Chapter 6: Black Rifle

They had been following the trail about half an hour, when Tayoga noticed that it was growing deeper.

“Ah,” he said, “Black Rifle now walks much more slowly, so slow that he barely creeps, and his feet press down harder. I think he is going to make another stop.”

“Maybe he intends to cook a part of that fat bear,” said Grosvenor, struggling hard, though, to keep all trace of envy out of his voice.

“You said a while back that he was going to kill the bear, because he was hungry, and it seems to me that he would be a very foolish man, if having got his bear, he didn’t make use of any portion of it.”

Tayoga laughed with sincere enjoyment.

“Red Coat reasons well,” he said. “If a man is eager to eat, and he has that which he can eat, then he would be a silly man if he did not eat. Red Coat has all the makings of a trailer. In a few more yards, Black Rifle will stop and cook himself a splendid dinner. Here he put his bear meat upon this log. The red stains show it. Then he picked up dead and fallen wood, and broke it into the right length over the log.

You can see where he broke places in the bark at the same time. Then he heaped them all in the little hollow, where he has left the pile of ashes. But, before he lighted a fire, with his flint and steel, he made a wide circle all about to see if any enemy might be near. We knew he would do that because Black Rifle is a very cautious man, but his trail proves it to any one who wishes to look. Then, satisfied, he came back, and started the flame. But he kept the blaze very low lest a prowling foe see it. When the bed of coals was fanned he cooked large portions of the bear and ate, because Black Rifle was hungry, ah, so hungry! and the bear was very savory and pleasing to his palate!”

“Stop, Tayoga, stop!” exclaimed Grosvenor, “I can’t stand such torture! You’ll make me starve to death where I stand.”

“But as you are about to become a warrior of the woods, Red Coat,” said the Onondaga gravely, “you must learn to endure. Among us a warrior will purposely put the fire to his hand or his breast and hold it there until the flesh smokes. Nor will he utter a groan or even wince. And all his people will applaud him and call him brave.”

Grosvenor shuddered. He did not see the lurking gleam of humor in the eye of Tayoga.

“I don’t need to pretend for the sake of practice that I am starving,” he said. “I’m starving in fact and I do it without the need of applause.”

“But Black Rifle was enjoying himself greatly,” continued the Onondaga, “and we can rejoice in the joys of a friend. If we have not a thing ourselves it is pleasant to know that somebody else had it.

He used his opportunities to the utmost. Here are more bones which he threw away, with shreds of flesh yet on them, and which the forest people came to pick clean. Lo, their tracks are everywhere about Black Rifle’s little camp. One of them became so persistent and bold--a wolf it was--that Black Rifle, not willing to shoot, seized a large stone, and threw it at him with great violence. There lies the stone at the edge of the wood, and as there is fresh earth on its under surface it was partly imbedded in the ground where Black Rifle snatched it up.

There, just beyond your right foot, Red Coat, is a little depression, the place in the earth, from which he tore it. Black Rifle’s aim was good too. He struck the wolf. At the foot of the bank there are red stains where several drops of blood fell. The wolf was full of mortification, pain and anger, when he ran away. He would never have been so bold and venturesome, if his hunger had not made him forget his prudence. He was as hungry as you are this minute, Red Coat.”

“I suppose you are giving me preliminary practice in torture, Tayoga.

Well, go on with it, old fellow. I’ll try to stand it.”

“No, that is enough as a beginning. We will follow the trail of Black Rifle again. After he had eaten so well he was so much refreshed that he will start again with a vigorous and strong step. Lo, it is as I said! He is taking a long stride, but I do not think he is walking fast. His pace is very slow. It may be that there is something in what Dagaeoga says. It is possible that Black Rifle is waiting for those who will not be unwelcome to him.”

Robert was quite able to fathom what was passing in the brain of the Onondaga. He saw that the trail was growing quite fresh, and his spirits became buoyant.

“And Red Coat is hungry,” said Tayoga, that lurking gleam of humor in his eye growing larger. “Let him remember that however he may suffer from lack of food he can suffer yet more. It is wonderful what the body can endure and yet live. Here Black Rifle stopped and rested on these stones, perhaps an hour. No, Red Coat, there are no signs to show it, but the trail on the other side is much fresher, which proves it. It is quite clear now that Black Rifle is waiting. He is not running away from anybody or anything. Ah! Red Coat, if we only had some of his precious bear steaks how welcome to us they would be!”

“Go on, Tayoga. As I told you, I’d try to stand it.”

“That is well, Red Coat. But it is not enough merely to wish for Black Rifle’s bear steaks. We will have a portion of them ourselves.”

“Now, Tayoga, your talk sounds a little wild to me.”

“But listen, Red Coat.”

The Onondaga suddenly put his fingers to his lips, and blew a shrill whistle that penetrated far in the forest. In a few instants, the answer, another whistle, came back from a point a few hundred yards ahead, and Tayoga said quietly:

“Red Coat, Black Rifle is waiting for us. We will now go forward and he will give us our dinner.”

They advanced without hesitation and the figure of the dark hunter rose up to meet them. His face showed pleasure, as he extended his hand first to Willet.

“Dave, old comrade,” he said, “the sight of you in the forest is always a pleasure to the eye. I thought you’d be coming with the lads, and I’ve been making ready for you. I knew that Tayoga, the greatest trailer the world has ever known, would be sure to strike my traces, and that he’d read them like print. And here’s Robert too, a fine boy, if I do say it to his face, and Lieutenant Grosvenor. You mayn’t know me, Lieutenant, though I recall you, and I can tell you you’re mighty lucky to fall into the hands of these three.”

“I think so too,” said Grosvenor earnestly.

“Red Coat is happy to see you,” said Tayoga, “but he will be happier to see your bear.”

“The Lieutenant is hungry,” said Black Rifle. “Then come; there is enough for all.”

“What made you wait for us?” asked Robert.

“You know how I roam the woods, doing as I please and under nobody’s command. I found that Tandakora was by the lake with warriors and that St. Luc was not far away. Tandakora’s men seemed to be trailing somebody, and hiding in the bushes, I spied on them. I was near enough to hear two warriors talking and I learned that it was you they were following. Then, coming on ahead, I left a trail for you to see. And I’ve got plenty of bear steaks already cooked for you.”

“God bless you, Mr. Black Rifle,” said Grosvenor fervently.

“Amen!” said Robert.

Black Rifle showed them his lair among dense bushes, and, after they had satisfied their hunger, the bear, divided in equal portions among all, was stored away in their knapsacks, Grosvenor luckily having retained his own as the Indians had not deprived him of it. They now had food enough for several days, and one great source of anxiety was removed.

“What had you found, Black Rifle?” asked Willet.

“St. Luc has a big force. He’s throwing a sort of veil before Montcalm, while the Marquis fortifies to meet the attack of the British and Americans that all know is coming. Perhaps the Lieutenant can tell us most about that force!”

“It’s to be a great one,” said Grosvenor.

“And we’ll go through to Quebec!” said Robert, his eyes flashing, his imagination at once alive. “We’ll put out forever the fire that’s always burning in the north and give our border peace.”

“Easy, lads, easy!” said Willet. “A thing’s never done until it’s done. I feel pretty sure we’ll do it, but we’ll reckon with present difficulties first. It seems to me it’s our duty now to follow St.

Luc, and see what he means to do with his force. It’s hard on you, Lieutenant, because you’ll have to stay with us. You can’t go back to Albany just yet.”

Grosvenor glanced around at the unbroken forest. “I’m resigned,” he said. “After that wonderful escape I’m ready for anything. I see that this is my great chance to become a scout, and I’ll do the best I can.”

“I take it,” said Black Rifle, “that the main object of St. Luc is to clear the forest of all our scouts and skirmishers in order that we may be kept in complete ignorance of Montcalm’s movements. We’ll show him that he can’t do it. You have not forgotten any of your skill, have you, Tayoga?”

“So far from forgetting any of it he’s acquired more,” said Willet, answering for the Onondaga. “When it comes to trailing that boy just breathes it in. He adds some new tricks every day. But I think we’d better lie by, the rest of to-day, and to-night, don’t you, Black Rifle? We don’t want to wear out our lads at the start.”

“Well spoken, Dave,” responded Black Rifle. “It’s a camp in the enemy’s country we’ll have to make with the warriors all about us, but we must take the risk. We’d better go to the next brook and walk up it a long distance. It’s the oldest of all tricks to hide your trail, but it is still the best.”

They found the brook only a few hundred yards farther on, and extended their walk along its pebbly bed fully a mile and a half as a precaution, keeping to their wading until they could emerge on rocky ground, where they left no trail.

“It will be only chance now that will bring them down on us,” said Willet. “Do you think, Lieutenant, that after such a long walk you could manage another bear steak?”

“If the company will join me!” replied Grosvenor. “I don’t wish to show bad manners.”

“I’ll join you,” said Willet, speaking for the others, “and I think we’ll make a brief camp on that wooded hill there.”

“Why on a hill, Mr. Willet? Why not in a hollow where it seems to me we would be better hidden?”

“Because, besides hiding ourselves, we want to see, and you can see better from a height than from a valley. In the bushes there we’ll have a view all about us, and I don’t think our enemies can come too near, unseen by us. When we get into the thicket on the hill, Lieutenant, you can resume that pleasant nap that you did not finish.

Eight or ten hours more of sleep will be just the thing for you.”

“All of you sleep a while,” said Black Rifle. “I’ll guard. I’m fresh.

But be sure you walk on the stones. We must leave no trace.”

They found a fairly comfortable place in the thicket and soon all were asleep except Black Rifle, who sat with his rifle between his knees, and from his covert scanned the forest on all sides.

Black Rifle felt satisfaction. He was pleased to be with the friends for whom he cared most. An historical figure, solitary, aloof, he was a vivid personality, yet scarcely anything was known about him. His right name even had disappeared, and, to the border, far and near he was just Black Rifle, or Black Jack, a great scout and a terror to the Indians. In his way, he was fond of Willet, Tayoga and young Lennox, and he felt also that he would like Grosvenor when he knew him better.

So, while they slept, he watched with a vigilance that nobody save Tayoga could surpass.

Black Rifle saw the life of the forest go on undisturbed. The birds on the boughs went about their business, and the little animals worked or played as usual in the bushes. Everything said to him that no enemy was near, and his own five senses confirmed it. The afternoon passed, and, about twilight, Tayoga awoke, but the others slept on.

“Sleep now, Black Rifle,” said the Onondaga. “I will take up the watch.”

“I don’t feel like closing my eyes just yet, Tayoga,” replied the scout, “and I’ll sit a while with you. Nothing has happened. Tandakora has not been able to find our trail.”

“But he will hunt long for it, Black Rifle. When my race hates it hates well. Tandakora feels his grudge against us. He has tried to do us much harm and he is grieved because we have not fallen before him.

He blames us for it.”

“I know he does. Did you hear something walking in the thicket at the bottom of the hill?”

“It is only a bear. Perhaps he is looking for a good place in which to pass the night, but he will go much farther away.”

“Why, Tayoga?”

“Because the wind is shifting about a little, and, in another minute, it will take him a whiff of the human odor. Then he will run away, and run fast. Now he is running.”

“I don’t hear him, Tayoga, but I take it that you know what you are saying is true.”