The woodsman's and the Ranger's instinct kept true within him even in the confusion and darkness. He never deflected from his line.

"This way! this way!" he called to Roche in smothered tones, as they heard the sound of the fight growing fainter behind them. He took the lad's hand, and plunged into the marshy hollow. He knew that none would follow them there; the ground was too treacherous.

But there was a path known to himself which he could find blindfold by day or night.

He pulled his comrade along with a fierce, wild haste, till at a certain point he paused. There was a little cavernous shelter in the midst of the mora.s.s, and here the pair sank down breathless and exhausted.

"We are saved!" gasped Roche, clasping his comrade by the hand.

"For the moment--yes," answered Fritz; "but what of afterwards?"

Chapter 2: Escape.

Young Roche lay face downwards upon the rocky floor of the little cavern, great sobs breaking from him which he was unable to restrain. Fritz, with a stern, set face, sat beside another prostrate figure--that of a man who looked more dead than alive, and whose head and arm were wrapped in linen bandages soaked through and through with blood.

It was Captain Pringle, their friend and comrade in Fort William Henry, who had elected to remain with the garrison when the other two took part in a sortie and cut themselves a path to the forest.

Had he remained with them, he might have fared better; he would at least have been spared the horrors of a scene which would now be branded forever upon his memory in characters of fire.

What had happened to that ill-fated fort Fritz and Roche knew little as yet. They had heard the tremendous firing which had followed whilst they remained in hiding during the day the dawn of which had seen the last desperate sortie. They had at night seen flames which spoke of Indian campfires all round the place, and from the complete cessation of firing after two they concluded that terms of surrender had been made. They had meant to wander deeper and deeper into the forest, out of reach of possible peril from prowling Indians; but they had been unable to tear themselves away without learning more of the fate of the hapless fort and its garrison.

At daybreak--or rather with the, first grey of dawn--they had crept through the brushwood as stealthily as Indians themselves, only to be made aware shortly that something horrible and terrible was going on. Yells and war whoops and the screech of Indian voices rose and clamoured through the silence of the forest, mingled with the shrieks of victims brutally ma.s.sacred, and the shouts and entreaties of the French officers, who ran hither and thither seeking to restrain the brutal and savage treachery of their unworthy allies.

Roche had lost his head, and would have rushed madly upon the scene of bloodshed and confusion; and Fritz must needs have followed, for he was not one to let a comrade go to his death alone: but before they had proceeded far, they met their comrade Pringle dashing through the forest, covered with wounds, and pursued by half a dozen screeching Indians, and in a moment they had sprung to his rescue.

With a yell as fierce in its way as that of the Indians themselves they sprang upon the painted savages, and taking them unawares, they killed every one before the dusky and drunken sons of the forest had recovered from their surprise at being thus met and opposed.

But plainly there was no time to lose. The forest was ringing with the awful war whoop. Their comrade was in no state for further fighting; he was almost too far gone even for flight.

They seized him one by each arm; they dashed along through the tangled forest by an unfrequented track known to Fritz, half leading, half carrying him the while. The din and the horrid clamour grew fainter in their ears. No pursuing footsteps gave them cause to pause to defend themselves. The centre of excitement round the fort drew the human wolves, as carrion draws vultures. The forest was dim and silent and deserted as the fugitives pursued their way through it.

From time to time the wounded man dropped some words full of horror and despair. Young Roche, new to these fearful border wars, was almost overcome by this broken narrative, realizing the fearful fate which had overtaken so many of his brave comrades of the past weeks.

When at last they reached the little cave for which Fritz was heading, and where they felt that for the moment at least they were safe, he could only throw himself along the ground in an agony of grief and physical exhaustion: whilst the hardier Fritz bathed the wounds of their unfortunate comrade, binding them up with no small skill, and refreshing him with draughts of water from the pool hard by, which was all the sick man desired at this moment.

All three comrades were exhausted to the uttermost, and for a long while nothing broke the silence of the dim place save the long-drawn, gasping sobs of the lad. Gradually these died away into silence, and Fritz saw that both his companions slept--the fitful sleep of overwrought nature. Yet he was thankful even for that.

Moving softly about he lighted a fire, and having captured one of the wild turkeys which were plentiful in the forest at that season, he proceeded to prepare a meal for them when they should awake.

Roche slept on and on, as the young will do when nature has been tried to her extreme limits; but Pringle presently opened his eyes, and looked feebly about him.

Fritz had a little weak broth to offer him by that time, and after drinking it the Captain looked a little less wan and ghastly.

"Where are we?" he asked, in a weak voice; "and how many are there of us?"

"We have only Roche with us. We have been in the forest since the sortie when we cut our way out. We met you the next day with half a dozen Indians at your heels. We know nothing save what you have spoken of treachery and ma.s.sacre. Can it be true that the French permitted such abominations? The forest was ringing with the Indian war whoops and the screams of their wretched victims!"

A shudder ran through Pringle's frame.

"It is too true," he said; "it is horrible--unspeakably horrible!

Yet we must not blame the French too much. They did what they could to prevent it. Indeed, I heard the Marquis de Montcalm himself bidding the Indians kill him, but spare the English garrison, which had surrendered, and had been promised all the honours of war and a safe escort to Fort Edward."

"If men will stoop to use fiends to do their work," said Fritz sternly, "they must expect to be disgraced and defied by these fiends, over whom they have no sort of influence. If men will use unworthy instruments, they must take the consequences."

"Yes; but the consequences have been the ma.s.sacre of our hapless sick and wounded, and scenes of horror at thought of which my blood curdles. They have fallen upon us, not upon them."

"For the moment, yes," said Fritz, still in the same stern tone; "but, Pringle, there is a G.o.d above us who looks down upon these things, and who will not suffer such deeds to pa.s.s unavenged. We are His children; we bear His name. We look to Him in the dark moments of despair and overthrow. I am sure that He will hear and answer. He will not suffer these crimes against humanity and civilization to go unpunished. He will provide the instrument for the overthrow of the power which can deal thus treacherously, even though the treachery may be that of their allies, and not their own. It is they who employ such unworthy tools. They must bear the responsibility when these things happen."

There was a long silence between the two men then, after which Pringle said:

"If they had only sent us reinforcements! I know that we shall hear later on that the reserves were on their way. Why do we do everything a month or more too late? It has been the ruin of our western frontier from first to last. We are never ready!"

"No; that has been the mistake so far, but I think it will not always be so. There is an able man in England now whose hands are on the helm; and though full power is not his as yet, he can and will do much, they say. Even the more astute of the French begin to dread the name of Pitt. I think that the tide will turn presently, and we shall see our victorious foes flying before us like chaff before the wind."

"You think that?"

"I do. I have seen and heard much of the methods of France in the south--her ambition, her presumption, her weakness. Here in the north she has a firmer grip, and Canada is her stronghold. But if once we can shake her power there, all will be gone. They say that Pitt knows this, and that his eyes are upon the Western world.

France has her hands full at home. A great war is raging in Europe.

A few well-planted blows, ably directed from beyond the sea by England herself, might do untold harm to her western provinces. I hope to live to see the day when those blows will be given."

Young Roche began to stir in his sleep, and presently sat up, bewildered and perplexed; but soon recollection swept over him, and he stumbled to his feet, and joined the other two by the fire.

"Tell us all," he said, as they began to think of supper; for he and Fritz had scarcely broken their fast all day, and nature was now a.s.serting her needs. "I would learn all, horrible though it is.

Tell us--did Fort William Henry surrender?"

"Yes; there was nothing else for it. New batteries opened upon us, as well as the old ones. There was a great breach in the wall which could have been carried by a.s.sault at any moment, and our guns were all burst, save a few of the smaller ones. They gave us lenient terms. We were to march out with the honours of war, and keep one of our guns; they were to give us safe escort to Fort Edward; we were to take our baggage with us. The Marquis showed himself a generous foe--of him we have reason to think well; but the Indians, and even the Canadians--well. I will come to that in its turn.

Thank Heaven, I did not see too much; what I did see will haunt me to my dying day!"

The lad's eyes dilated. It was terrible; but he wanted to hear all.

"All was arranged. The French soldiers marched in and took possession. We marched out to the intrenched camp to join our comrades there, who, of course, had been included in the capitulation. In the charge of the French we left our sick, who could not march. Hardly had we gone before the Indians swarmed in in search of plunder, and finding little--for, as you know, there was little to find--they instantly began to murder the sick, rushing hither and thither, yelling wildly, waving scalps in their hands!"

"And the French allowed it!" exclaimed Roche, setting his teeth hard; for he had friends and comrades lying sick at the fort when he left it.

"It was done so quickly they might not have known. One missionary was there, and rushed hither and thither seeking to stay them; but he might as well have spoken to the wild waves of the sea in a storm. But that was not all. In an hour or so they were clamouring and swarming all round the camp, and the French soldiers told off for our protection either could not or would not keep them out.

Montcalm, in great anxiety, came over himself seeking to restore order; but the Indians were drunk with blood, and would not listen to him. He begged us to stave in our rum barrels, which was instantly done; but the act provoked the savages, and they pounced upon our baggage, which had been reserved to us by the terms of the treaty. We appealed to the Marquis; but he advised us to give it up.

"'I am doing all I can,' he said to Colonel Monro; 'but I shall be only too happy if I can prevent a ma.s.sacre!'"

"Horrible!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the young lieutenant. "Oh, better, far better, to have held the fort and perished in open fight than to be set upon in cold blood by those fiends!"

"Yes," quoth Pringle sternly; "that is what we felt and said. But it was too late then. The Indians were all amongst us. They were here, there, and everywhere. They got hold of the long hair of the women and the terrified children, and drew their scalping knives and menaced them till they shrieked and cried aloud in abject terror--"

Pringle paused; a spasm of horror shook him. After a brief pause he recommenced in more rapid tones:

"Why prolong the tale? it has lasted already too long. No proper guard was provided for us. Why I cannot tell, for the Marquis was truly horrified at what was going on. Perhaps he thought the steps he had taken were sufficient, or that the rage of the Indians was appeased; but be that as it might, when we marched out towards Fort Edward, we had no efficient protection, and the Indians were all round us, s.n.a.t.c.hing at caps and coats, and forcing the soldiers to give them rum from their canteens, every drop of which seemed to add fuel to the fire."

"And you had no escort?"