Marching on Niagara - Part 22
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Part 22

"I've got another idea," said Henry, after a thoughtful pause. "I got the news through White Buffalo. General Johnson has been commissioned to stir up the Indians in the Mohawk valley and get them to join in the attack on Fort Niagara. White Buffalo and his followers are going to join Johnson's force. Why not go with the white men in this crowd? We'll be sure to hear more about those Indians and the French traders in that way than if we went with the regular army."

"But to train with redskins, Henry!"

"We needn't train with 'em. There will be at least a dozen white men with the crowd and we can go with them. I once met General Johnson. He's a big-hearted Irishman, full of hard, common sense, and I know we could get along with him. And when he heard our story he might put himself out to help us."

So the youths talked on until at last they fell asleep--to dream of fierce fights with the French and Indians and daring rescues of little Nell. But these were only dreams. Little did they realize how many real difficulties and perils still awaited them.

In the morning Dave insisted upon talking the matter over with Sam Barringford. They found the old hunter ready enough to listen to what they had to say.

"I'm with ye!" he exclaimed, after they had finished. "It ain't no half bad plan nuther. I know Sir William Johnson like a book--fact is, I know him a heap sight better nor any book. As ye say, he's whole-souled and chock full of common sense. The Injuns love him as they love few white men--an' all because he's treated 'em fa'r and squar'. Why he's done more fer the English government nor any dozen Indian Commissioners put together. He knows jest how to handle 'em, an' he makes friends o' foes almost afore ye can turn a hand. Yes, let us go to him by all means and I'll warrant when ye tell him the whole story he'll set some Injuns out to find little Nell an' them Rose twins."

That afternoon the subject was brought to the attention of the whole family. Mrs. Morris did not know whether to be glad or sorry, but in the end she told the boys to go, but be careful and not run into unnecessary danger, and in private she asked Barringford to watch over them carefully.

"I'll do my level best, ma'am," said the frontiersman. "And ef I can make it, they'll come back to ye unharmed. But they're putty hot-like when they strike a trail as suits 'em, ye know thet as well as I."

Preparations were at once made for their departure. Both Dave and Henry were fitted out with new hunting suits of the regular trapper pattern and each took along the best gun he could obtain. Sam Barringford had bought another rifle, which he christened Old Trusty No. 2. They went on foot, not knowing if their progress with the whites and Indians would admit of riding on horseback.

In the meantime it was decided that James Morris should remain at the cabin, to finish the building and do the planting, thus giving his brother ample time to regain his health and strength, and also making it easier for Rodney, who during the past few weeks had been working harder than was good for his const.i.tution.

"Good-bye, my son," said James Morris, when the trio was ready to start.

"Be careful, but do not forget that we look to you to bring little Nell back, if such a thing is possible;" and then Mrs. Morris kissed the boys; and the long journey into what had been the Indian country was begun.

Dave felt somewhat sober so long as they were in sight of the newly built cabin, but when the last rise of ground was pa.s.sed, and they had waved a parting farewell, to which Mrs. Morris had answered by a wave of her ap.r.o.n, his spirits returned, and soon he, Henry, and Barringford were chatting as though nothing out of the ordinary was occurring, yet down in his heart, each felt that this search for little Nell was going to prove a serious and, most likely, a dangerous undertaking.

"Where is Sir William Johnson now?" asked Dave, presently, after several miles of the trail through the forest had been covered.

"Somewhere near Fort Johnson," answered Barringford. "He's out to get the Six Nations to join General Prideaux's army either at Fort Stanwix or at Oswego--if Prideaux can get that far. Johnson is the very best man they could send to the Indians."

"Were you ever out with him?" asked Henry.

"Many a time, lad. He's a great hunter, too, let me tell you--can hit the bull's-eye at a hundred paces without half trying. And when it comes to dancing an Indian war dance he can do that, too."

"And yet he's an Irish n.o.bleman!"

"Yes, I allow as how he's an odd mixture of a man. But that mixture makes him just the right kind for the redskins. He understands 'em--top, bottom and sides, as the saying goes. He appeals to their brains as well as their instincts--and when he once makes friends of 'em they are willing to lay down their lives for him. In 1756 he was appointed sole superintendent of the Six Nations Indians, and he made a perilous trip all the way to Onondaga, their capital, and staid with 'em two weeks, and got 'em to swear that they would remain neutral. That was a big feather in his cap. Then the next year he joined Webb at Fort Edward with some of his Indians, but he was too late to do anything, although I've heard he was more than willing to fight. He was also on hand to fight Montcalm when Abercrombie attacked Ticonderoga, but his three hundred Indians didn't see the use of being slaughtered in the open at mid-day and they refused to fight, although they told Johnson they would take part in the battle in their own way."

"It's queer the English soldiers can't fight as we do," said Henry. "I really can't understand it. They get out in the open and the Indian gets behind a tree, and who has the best of it? Certainly not the man in the open."

"I think the English soldiers have learned a lesson or two," said Dave.

"I don't believe you'll find General Prideaux marching on Fort Niagara in the broad sunlight."

They were trailing through a dense forest, with trees on every side, lifting their heads a hundred feet and more to the sky. Gigantic roots lay sprawling on every side and they had to pick their way with care, for fear of pitching headlong or spraining an ankle. It was clear and moderately warm, and would have been warmer had the sunlight reached them.

"Years ago this was a great ground fer b'ar," said Barringford, as they rested for their noonday lunch, eating some things they had brought along from the cabin. "There war a cave 'bout two miles from here whar the b'ar ust to gather to the number of fifteen or twenty. But the cave was cleaned out so many times ain't likely to be any b'ar left."

"Shall we go near the cave?" questioned Dave. "I'd like to have a look at the spot."

"Yes, we'll go putty clost, lad. But you don't want to waste no time on game jest now, do ye?"

"Not unless it came very easy. If we got a bear it would give us some fine meat to take along, and we could sell the skin at Cherry Run."

"Ain't no b'ar there, I'm putty sure on it. But we can stop an'

see--jest out o' curiosity sake."

They did not rest long, for they were anxious to join General Johnson at as early a date as possible, and knew that it would take them at least two weeks to make the trip. They were on rising ground, but soon they struck a downward path, filled with rough rocks and loose stones, where the footing was far from certain.

"The cave is over yonder," said Barringford, pointing with his hand.

"The opening to it is on the other side. Come, I'll show ye the way. And have your guns ready--in case a b'ar should turn up."

After this no more was said, and they went forward, side by side--so that no one might hinder the aim of a companion. There was a slight undergrowth between the rocks but for the most part only tall trees, bare for a distance of thirty feet upward, marked the locality.

Suddenly Barringford put up his hand, to warn his companions. All came to a halt and listened, at the same time straining their eyes to see what might be ahead. They heard a low thump, followed by another, and then all became as silent as before.

"What was it?" at last whispered Dave.

"Some wild animal," returned Barringford, in an equally low tone. "Don't reckon as how it was a b'ar though."

They waited a moment longer, and then the old hunter again led the advance. There were several large rocks to cross and then they rounded one end of the cave, which, on top, was shaped very much like a huge rocky egg.

"A deer!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Henry. "Look out!"

All looked and saw a magnificent deer standing close to the mouth of the cave, gazing cautiously forward. Suddenly a fox leaped out of the opening and the deer started back in alarm.

Bang! It was the report of Barringford's rifle and the deer leaped high in the air, to fall dead immediately afterward.

"A good shot--" began Henry, when a noise behind him caused him to swing around swiftly. What he saw filled him with horror. A huge buck was glaring at him from the opposite end of the rocky eminence. In a second more the buck charged the crowd, rushing forward with lowered antlers and with the swiftness of the wind.

CHAPTER XXII

THE FIGHT WITH THE BUCK

"Look out!"

These were the only words Henry had time to utter and as they left his lips he leaped to one side as swiftly as possible.

Hardly knowing what Henry meant, Dave and Barringford stood their ground, looking first one way and then another.

On the instant the big buck came forward. His rush was aimed at Henry, but missing that youth, he went onward with a wild plunge, directly between Dave and Barringford.

"A buck!" yelled the frontiersman. "Back out, Dave, an' be quick about it!"

He himself started on a run, reloading his rifle as he went. Dave wanted to do as bidden, but he had been so surprised that before he could turn his heel caught on a rock and down he went flat on his back. His gun struck on the trigger and went off, the charge tearing over the top of the cave into the tree branches beyond.

Dave was now helpless and if the truth must be told the fall had more than half dazed him, for his head came down on a spot that was far from soft and comfortable. More than this, with an empty gun he could do but little to defend himself.