CHAPTER VI
 
AN UNEXPECTED SEPARATION

I don’t believe the storms are entirely over yet,” said Dave, on the following morning, after a walk down to the lake shore and a look at the sky.

“It is going to be cloudy and windy,” answered Henry, as he began to wash up in a neighboring pool. “We’ll have to work hard for every mile we gain.”

While the two were talking, White Buffalo joined them. His foot was still very sore, but he said he intended to turn back toward Fort Niagara as soon as the morning meal was finished.

It did not take long for the soldiers to prepare breakfast, and immediately after this the traps were loaded on the boats and the young soldiers bid White Buffalo good-by.

“Tell Sir William that you met us,” said Silvers, “and tell him how the storm made us go into camp;” and this the Indian chief promised to do.

There was a strong, raw wind, and despite the rising sun they were glad to keep on their coats as they bent to the oars and sent the two rowboats speeding on their way. Once more they hugged the shore, Raymond stating that they might run into another squall at any moment.

Although they kept their eyes on the alert, no signs of white man or red were seen during the morning. Once they saw an overturned canoe resting in the mud, but by the appearance of the craft they came to the conclusion that it had been rotting there for several months, if not a year.

“The Indians have deserted this territory and the French have all sailed to the north shore of the lake,” said Dave. “It will be a long while before another village or trading-post is established here.”

But a few minutes later Shamer proved that Dave was wrong. Standing up suddenly, he pointed to a spot where the lake shore was thinly fringed with trees and brushwood.

“What do you see?” demanded Silvers.

“Redskins—three or four of them,” was the low answer.

“Where?”

“Back of those trees. They are gone now.”

“If that is so, we must be on our guard,” said the leader of the expedition, and called to those in the second boat to pull further out into the lake.

They watched for a long time, but nothing more was seen of the Indians, and presently Silvers asked Shamer if he was sure his eyesight had not deceived him.

“I am sure I saw them,” said the backwoodsman.

“I saw one of the Injuns myself,” put in Gilfoy. “Just as I spotted him he dodged out of sight.”

Just ahead of the boats the shore made a deep inward curve and Silvers decided that they should row directly across the bay thus formed.

“The bay isn’t over a mile across,” he said. “But if the redskins try to follow us up they will have a good three or four miles to travel.”

“Unless they put out in canoes,” came from Raymond.

“If they do that we can easily see them and be on our guard,” answered the leader of the expedition.

The constant rowing was beginning to tell on Dave’s hands, and he was not sorry when it came his turn to steer the craft occupied by himself, Henry, and Raymond.

Good progress was being made when, about three o’clock in the afternoon, the sky became unusually black and the wind freshed up at a remarkable rate.

“Now we are going to catch it,” said Raymond. “And a good deal more of wind than of rain.”

The backwoodsman was right, and they had just time in which to reach shore when the wind-storm came rushing on them in all of its fury, hurling the whitecaps one over another and causing the tall trees to groan and bend beneath the blast.

“Don’t catch me under the trees in such a blow,” said Gilfoy, and the others agreed that it would be a foolhardy move to look for shelter there at such a time. More than one branch came down with a crack like that of a pistol, and further off they heard half-decayed monarchs of the forest come down with low booms.

The wind continued to blow, at first in irregular puffs and then in a steady gale, directly from the east. The raindrops were large and scattering and scarcely wet the ground.

“It’s of no use to try rowing in this wind,” said Silvers, after a careful look at the sky. “We’ll be blown back and all our strength wasted.”

“How far are we from Oswego?” asked Henry.

“I should say about sixty miles.”

“We might tramp that distance,” put in Dave. “But it would take not less than two days over this rough ground.”

“It’s out of the question, lad. The ground is rougher than you imagine. No, I think we had better rest until morning. This wind can’t last.”

This being decided, the party proceeded to make themselves comfortable, moving inland to where a series of rocks formed something of a cliff, thickly overgrown with vines and bushes. Here they formed a shelter by leaning long branches and saplings against the rocks, and in a hollow a fire was lit, where they made something hot to drink.

“We must be on our guard here,” said Silvers. “Those Indians may be following us. This cliff——”

He stopped short, having received a violent push from Dave, who stood close at hand, under the shelter of a thick tree branch. As the leader of the expedition fell an arrow whizzed by his side, and buried itself in the dirt between the rocks.

“The redskins!” cried Henry. “They are behind us!”

“They are surrounding us,” put in Gilfoy.

Another arrow and still another whizzed through the air, and Shamer was struck in the arm. Then came a fierce yell from the forest, which was answered by another from the lake front.

“They must number twenty or thirty,” said Dave.

“We are caught like rats in a trap!” ejaculated Henry. His eyes began to blaze. “We’ve got to fight for it—and fight our best, too!”

Another yell sounded out and several Indians appeared, hideous in their warpaint. More arrows were fired—one grazing Henry’s hand—and eight of the warriors leaped toward the shelter, flourishing their tomahawks.

“Fire on ’em. Don’t waste a bullet!” sang out Silvers, and brought his long rifle to bear on the leading Indian. As the weapon rang out the red man leaped upward and fell in a heap, the bullet having pierced his brain.

The firing now became general and soon the shelter by the rocks was filled with smoke, so that but little could be seen. Dave was beside Henry, and both discharged their muskets at the enemy, and they saw two more Indians stagger and fall back. Then a tomahawk came whizzing through the air, and poor Gilfoy went down to rise no more. Shamer was also hit in the leg; and the din became frightful.

“We must get out of here,” cried Raymond, catching Dave by the arm. “Come on!”

“Come, Henry!” exclaimed Dave. “Follow us!”

“All right,” was the answer, and in a second more the three were running for the nearest patch of brushwood, loading their muskets as they ran.

As the new shelter was gained, two tall warriors leaped out to meet them. Tomahawks were raised, but Raymond swung his musket over his head and sent one Indian reeling to the earth. In the meantime the second warrior threw his tomahawk at Dave, but the youth dodged and before the red man could recover from his throw Henry was on him with the hunting knife he had carried since the breaking out of the war.

“That for you!” cried Henry, wild with excitement, and buried the knife in the Indian’s shoulder. The warrior sank with a groan; and in a moment more he and Henry were on the ground, in a fierce hand-to-hand struggle for life.

Dave was somewhat bewildered by the quickness of the various moves made, and when he could recover somewhat he found himself by Raymond’s side running up the lake shore. A fierce yell and shouting came from a distance, interspersed with gun and pistol shots.

“Whe—where is Henry?” he gasped.

“Reckon he is following us,” answered Raymond.

“Come on, don’t stop here. The Injuns will be after us ag’in in a minute or two.”

“But I don’t want to—to leave Henry behind.”

“Don’t worry but what he’ll follow, unless they kill him, Dave. Come, it’s suicide to stay here,” urged Raymond, and caught the youth by the hand and dragged him forward.

The yells of the Indians now came closer, and fearful of being surrounded once more the backwoodsman and Dave plunged into the forest. They chose a point where the tall timber was thick, and they did not stop in their course until a hundred yards or more had been covered. Sheltered by some bushes, they reloaded their muskets, which had been discharged four times since the struggle began.

“This attack has been a bad one, lad,” said Raymond, who was breathing heavily. “Gilfoy is dead, and I saw Shamer go down, too.”

“And Henry?” panted the young solder. “Oh, do you think——” He could not go on.

“Let us hope for the best, lad.”

“If I thought I could help him I’d go back.”

“No, no, lad, don’t you try it. The Injuns are three or four to one, and you’ll lose your scalp just as sure as you are born.”

With great bitterness of mind, Dave was forced to realize that this was true. Yet, he could not bear to leave Henry to his fate.

“If he is killed I’ll never forgive myself,” he thought.

Listening intently, they heard the Indians moving around the neighborhood, evidently trying to pick up the trail the whites had left. Gradually they appeared to come closer.

“We must get out of here,” whispered Raymond. “Follow me, and don’t make a sound.”

As silently as a shadow he led the way through the brushwood and to the open forest once more. Fortunately the coming of night now favored them, along with the heavy clouds which still hung low in the sky.

Deeper and deeper they plunged into the growths until they came to some rough rocks, back of which was a hollow filled with stagnant water.

“Let us climb over some of the rocks,” whispered the backwoodsman. “That will cut off the trail—in case they do happen to strike it.”

With a heavy heart Dave did as advised, and the pair covered another distance of a hundred yards. Here the rocks were larger, forming a cliff considerably higher than that where the fateful shelter had been located.

“I see something of an opening,” announced Raymond presently. “It ought to make a good hiding place.”

He pointed to a split between the rocks. The opening was high and just wide enough for them to squeeze through. To the rear was located a dark cave of unknown depth.

“We’ll rest here,” said Raymond, and threw himself on a rocky seat. “Keep your musket ready for use.”

“It is all ready,” answered Dave, and sank beside his companion, wondering what had become of Henry, and how this unexpected encounter was going to terminate.