Shadow of the North — Ch 1: The Onondaga, part 2
The night thickened and they were still uncertain what to do.
Robert made a silent prayer to the God of the white man, the Manitou of the red man, for a sign, but none came, and infected strongly as he was with the Indian philosophy and religion, he felt that it must be due to some lack of virtue in himself.
He searched his memory, but he could not discover in what particular he had erred, and he was forced to continue his anxious waiting, until the stars should choose to fight for him.
Tayoga too was troubled, his mind in its own way being as active as Robert's. He knew all the spirits of earth, air and water were abroad, but he hoped at least one of them would look upon him with favor, and give him a warning.
He sought Tododaho's star in the heavens, but the clouds were too thick, and, eye failing, he relied upon his ear for the signal which he and his young white comrade sought so earnestly.
If Tayoga had erred either in omission or commission then the spirits that hovered about him forgave him, as when the night was thickest they gave the sign.
It was but the faint fall of a foot, and, at first, he thought a bear or a deer had made it, but at the fourth or fifth fall he knew that it was a human footstep and he whispered to his comrades: "Some one comes!"
As if by preconcerted signal the three arose and crept silently into the dense underbrush, where they crouched, their rifles thrust forward.
"It is but one man and he walks directly toward us," whispered Tayoga.
"I hear him now," said Robert.
"He is wearing moccasins, as his step is too light for boots."
"Which means that he's a rover like ourselves," said Willet.
"Now he's stopped.
There isn't a sound.
The man, whoever he is, has taken alarm, or at least he's decided that it's best for him to be more watchful.
Perhaps he's caught a whiff from the ashes of our fire.
He's white or he wouldn't be here alone, and he's used to the forest, or he wouldn't have suspected a presence from so little."
"The Great Bear thinks clearly," said Tayoga.
"It is surely a white man and some great scout or hunter.
He moved a little now to the right, because I heard his buckskin brush lightly against a bush.
I
think Great Bear is right about the fire.
The wind has brought the ashes from it to his nostrils, and he will lie in the bush long before moving."
"Which doesn't suit our plans at all," said Willet.
"There's a chance, just a chance, that I may know who he is.
White men of the kind to go scouting through the wilderness are not so plenty on the border that one has to make many guesses.
You lads move away a little so you won't be in line if a shot comes, and I'll give a signal."
Robert and Tayoga crept to other points in the brush, and the hunter uttered a whistle, low but very clear and musical.
In a moment or two, a like answer came from a place about a hundred yards away, and Willet rising, advanced without hesitation.
Robert and Tayoga followed promptly, and a tall figure, emerging from the darkness, came forward to meet them.
The stranger was a man of middle years, and of a singularly wild appearance.
His eyes roved continually, and were full of suspicion, and of a sort of smoldering anger, as if he had a grievance against all the world.
His hair was long and tangled, his face brown with sun and storm, and his dress more Indian than white.
He was heavily armed, and, whether seen in the dusk or in the light, his whole aspect was formidable and dangerous.
But Willet continued to advance without hesitation.
"Captain Jack," he said extending his hand.
"We were not looking for you tonight, but no man could be more welcome.
These are young friends of mine, brave warriors both, the white and the red, Robert Lennox, who is almost a son to me, and Tayoga, the Onondaga, to whom I feel nearly like a father too."
Now Robert knew him, and he felt a thrill of surprise, and of the most intense curiosity.
Who along the whole border had not heard of Captain Jack, known also as the Black Hunter, the Black Rifle and by many other names?
The tale had been told in every cabin in the woods how returning home, he had found his wife and children tomahawked and scalped, and how he had taken a vow of lifelong vengeance upon the Indians, a vow most terribly kept.
In all the villages in the Ohio country and along the Great Lakes, the name of Black Rifle was spoken with awe and terror.
No more singular and ominous figure ever crossed the pages of border story.
He swept the two youths with questing glances, but they met his gaze firmly, and while his eye had clouded at first sight of the Onondaga the threatening look soon passed.
"Friends of yours are friends of mine, Dave Willet," he said.
"I know you to be a good man and true, and once when I was at Albany I heard of Robert Lennox, and of the great young warrior, Tayoga, of the clan of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the great League of the Hodenosaunee."
The young Onondaga's eyes flashed with pleasure, but he was silent.
"How does it happen, Willet?"
asked Black Rifle, "that we meet here in the forest at such a time?"
"We're on our way to the Ohio country to learn something about the gathering of the French and Indian forces.
Just before sundown we saw smoke signals and we think our enemies are planning to cut off a force of ours, somewhere here in the forest."
Black Rifle laughed, but it was not a pleasant laugh.
It had in it a quality that made Robert shudder.
"Your guesses are good, Dave," said Black Rifle.
"About fifty men of the Pennsylvania militia are in camp on the banks of a little creek two miles from here.
They have been sent out to guard the farthest settlements.
Think of that, Dave!
They're to be a guard against the French and Indians!"
His face contracted into a wry smile, and Robert understood his feeling of derision for the militia.
"As I told you, they're in camp," continued Black Rifle.
"They built a fire there to cook their supper, and to show the French and Indians where they are, lest they miss 'em in the darkness.
They don't know what part of the country they're in, but they're sure it's a long distance west of Philadelphia, and if the Indians will only tell 'em when they're coming they'll be ready for 'em.
Oh, they're brave enough!
They'll probably all die with their faces to the enemy."
He spoke with grim irony and Robert shuddered.
He knew how helpless men from the older parts of the country were in the depths of the wilderness, and he was sure that the net was already being drawn about the Pennsylvanians.
"Are the French here too, Black Rifle?"
asked Willet.
The strange man pointed toward the north.
"A band led by a Frenchman is there," he replied.
"He is the most skillful of all their men in the forest, the one whom they call St. Luc."
"I thought so!"
exclaimed Robert.
"I believed all the while he would be here.
I've no doubt he will direct the ambush."
"We must warn this troop," said Willet, "and save 'em if they will let us.
You agree with me, don't you, Tayoga?"
"The Great Bear is right."
"And you'll back me up, of course, Robert.
Will you help us too, Black Rifle?"
The singular man smiled again, but his smile was not like that of anybody else.
It was sinister and full of menace.
It was the smile of a man who rejoiced in sanguinary work, and it made Robert think again of his extraordinary history, around which the border had built so much of truth and legend.
"I will help, of course," he replied.
"It's my trade.
It was my purpose to warn 'em before I met you, but I feared they would not listen to me.
Now, the words of four may sound more real to 'em than the words of one."
"Then lead the way," said Willet.
"'Tis not a time to linger."
Black Rifle, without another word, threw his rifle over his shoulder and started toward the north, the others falling into Indian file behind him.
A light, pleased smile played over his massive and rugged features.
More than the rest he rejoiced in the prospect of combat.
They did not seek battle and they fought only when they were compelled to do so, but he, with his whole nature embittered forever by that massacre of long ago, loved it for its own sake.
He had ranged the border, a torch of fire, for years, and now he foresaw more of the revenge that he craved incessantly.
He led without hesitation straight toward the north.
All four were accomplished trailers and the flitting figures were soundless as they made their swift march through the forest.
In a half hour they reached the crest of a rather high hill and Black Rifle, stopping, pointed with a long forefinger toward a low and dim light.
"The camp of the Pennsylvanians," he said with bitter irony.
"As I told you, fearing lest the savages should miss 'em in the forest they keep their fire burning as a beacon."
"Don't be too hard on 'em, Black Rifle," said Willet.
"Maybe they come from Philadelphia itself, and city bred men can scarcely be expected to learn all about the wilderness in a few days."
"They'll learn, when it's too late, at the muzzles of the French and Indian rifles," rejoined Black Rifle, abating a little his tone of savage derision.
"At least they're likely to be brave men," said Willet, "and now what do you think will be our best manner of approaching 'em?"
"We'll walk directly toward their fire, the four of us abreast.
They'll blaze away all fifty of 'em together, as soon as they see us, but the darkness will spoil their aim, and at least one of us will be left alive, able to walk, and able to tell 'em of their danger.
We don't know who'll be the lucky man, but we'll see."
"Come, come, Captain Jack!
Give 'em a chance!
They may be a more likely lot than you think.
You three wait here and I'll go forward and announce our coming.
I dare say we'll be welcome."
Willet advanced boldly toward the fire, which he soon saw consisted of a great bed of coals, surrounded by sleepers.
But the figures of men, pacing back and forth, showed that the watch had not been neglected, although in the deep forest such sentinels would be but little protection against the kind of ambush the French and Indians were able to lay.
Not caring to come within the circle of light lest he be fired upon, the hunter whistled, and when he saw that the sentinels were at attention he whistled again.
Then he emerged from the bushes, and walked boldly toward the fire.
"Who are you?"
a voice demanded sharply, and a young man in a fine uniform stood up in front of the fire.
The hunter's quick and penetrating look noted that he was tall, built well, and that his face was frank and open.
"My name is David Willet," he replied, "and I am sometimes called by my friends, the Iroquois, the Great Bear.
Behind me in the woods are three comrades, young Robert Lennox, of New York and Albany; Tayoga, a young warrior of the clan of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the great League of the Hodenosaunee, and the famous hunter and border fighter, of whom everybody has heard, Captain Jack, Black Hunter, or Black Rifle as he has been called variously."
"I know the name," replied the young man, "and yours too, Mr. Willet.
My own is Colden, James Colden of Philadelphia, and I am in command of this troop, sent to guard the farthest settlements against the French and Indians.
Will you call your comrades, Mr. Willet?
All of you are welcome."
The hunter whistled again, and Robert, Tayoga and Black Rifle, advancing from the forest, came within the area of half light cast by the glow from the coals, young Captain Colden watching them with the most intense curiosity as they approached.
And well he might feel surprise.
All, even Robert, wore the dress of the wilderness, and their appearance at such a time was uncommon and striking.
Most of the soldiers had been awakened by the voices, and were sitting up, rubbing sleepy eyes.
Robert saw at once that they were city men, singularly out of place in the vast forest and the darkness.
"We welcome you to our camp," said young Captain Colden, with dignity.
"If you are hungry we have food, and if you are without blankets we can furnish them to you."
Willet and Tayoga looked at Robert and he knew they expected him to fill his usual role of spokesman.
The words rushed to his lips, but they were held there by embarrassment.
The soldiers who had been awakened were already going back to sleep.
Captain Colden sat down on a log and waited for them to state their wants.
Then Robert spoke, knowing they could not afford to delay.
"We thank you, Captain Colden," he said, "for the offer of supper and bed, but I must say to you, sir, that it's no time for either."
"I don't take your meaning, Mr. Lennox."
"Tayoga, Mr. Willet and Black Rifle, are the best scouts in the wilderness, and before sunset they saw smoke on the horizon.
Then they saw smoke answering smoke, and Black Rifle has seen more.
The French and Indians, sir, are in the forest, and they're led, too, by Frenchmen."
Young James Colden was a brave man, and his eyes glittered.
"We ask nothing better than to meet 'em," he said, "At the first breath of dawn we'll march against 'em, if your friends will only be so good as to show us the way."
"It's not a matter of waiting until dawn, nor even of going to meet 'em.
They'll bring the battle to us.
You and your force, Captain Colden, are surrounded already."
The young captain stared at Robert, but his eyes were full of incredulity.
Several of the soldiers were standing near, and they too heard, but the warning found no answer in their minds.
Robert looked around at the men asleep and the others ready to follow them, and, despite his instinctive liking for Colden, his anger began to rise.
"I said that you were surrounded," he repeated sharply, "and it's no time, Captain Colden, for unbelief!
Mr. Willet, Tayoga and I saw the signals of the enemy, but Black Rifle here has looked upon the warriors themselves.
They're led too by the French, and the best of all the French forest captains, St. Luc, is undoubtedly with them off there."
He waved his hand toward the north, and a little of the high color left Colden's face.
The youth's manner was so earnest and his words were spoken with so much power of conviction that they could not fail to impress.
"You really mean that the French and Indians are here, that they're planning to attack us tonight?"
said the Philadelphian.
"Beyond a doubt and we must be prepared to meet them."
Colden took a few steps back and forth, and then, like the brave young man he was, he swallowed his pride.
"I confess that I don't know much of the forest, nor do my men," he said, "and so I shall have to ask you four to help me."
"We'll do it gladly," said Robert.
"What do you propose, Dave?"
"I think we'd better draw off some distance from the fire," replied the hunter.
"To the right there is a low hill, covered with thick brush, and old logs thrown down by an ancient storm.
It's the very place."
"Then," said Captain Colden briskly, "we'll occupy it inside of five minutes.
Up, men, up!"
The sleepers were awakened rapidly, and, although they were awkward and made much more noise than was necessary, they obeyed their captain's sharp order, and marched away with all their arms and stores to the thicket on the hill, where, as Willet had predicted, they found also a network of fallen trees, affording a fine shelter and defense.
Here they crouched and Willet enjoined upon them the necessity of silence.
"Sir," said young Captain Colden, again putting down his pride, "I beg to thank you and your comrades."
"You don't owe us any thanks.
It's just what we ought to have done," said Willet lightly.
"The wilderness often turns a false face to those who are not used to it, and if we hadn't warned you we'd have deserved shooting."
The faint whine of a wolf came from a point far in the north.
"It's one of their signals," said Willet.
"They'll attack inside of an hour."
Then they relapsed into silence and waited, every heart beating hard.
CHAPTER II
