Chapter 8: The Boat Builders

Robert and Grosvenor lay, side by side, propped up partly on their elbows, their rifles thrust well forward, and watching toward the north. They were not able to see anything, save the dark outline of the forest, and a little puff of smoke rising where an Indian had fired. The wilderness itself was absolutely still but Robert’s vivid imagination as usual peopled it thickly. Although his eye did not reach any human figure his mind pictured them everywhere, waiting patiently for a chance at his comrades and himself. He, more than any other of the five, realized the full extent of the danger. His extraordinary fancy pictured to him every possibility, and so his courage was all the greater, because he had the strength to face them with a tranquil mind.

A flash in the thicket and a bullet struck on a rock near Robert, glanced off and buried itself in a tree beyond them. He shivered a little. Fancy pictured the bullet not as missing, but as hitting him.

Then he steadied himself, and was as ready as Willet or Black Rifle for whatever might come.

“I think that shot was fired by a sharpshooter who has crept forward ahead of the others,” whispered the hunter. “He’s lying behind that low bush to the west.”

“I’m of your mind about it,” said Black Rifle. “As soon as he reloads he’ll chance another shot at where he thinks we’re lying, and that will be his last.”

Robert heard the low words, and he shivered again a little. He could never grow used to the taking of human life, even in dire necessity.

He knew that Willet had spoken the truth, and that the red sharpshooter would fire only one more shot. Soon he had the proof. The second flash came from the same point. Again the bullet glanced among the rocks, but, before the report of the rifle died, another answered.

It was that of the hunter and he found his mark. A cry came from the bush, followed by a fierce yell of anger from those farther back, and then the sinister stillness settled again over the wilderness.

“The Indian has gone!” whispered Grosvenor in an awed tone to Robert.

“Yes, Dave fired at the flash, and he never misses. The cry showed it.

But it will make the warriors all the more eager to take us.”

The silence lasted about a quarter of an hour, and then fire was opened upon them from three sides, bullets singing over their heads, or spattering upon the rocks.

“Lie flat, lads,” commanded Willet. “This is random lead, and if we keep close to the earth ‘twill all pass us by. The warriors are seldom good marksmen.”

But one of the bullets, glancing from a rock, nipped Black Rifle in the shoulder. It was a very slight wound, though, and its only effect was to make him more eager to reach his enemy. In a few minutes his chance came as he caught a glimpse of a dusky but incautious figure among the trees, and, quick as a flash, drew trigger on it. There was no cry, but he saw the shadowy figure go down, not to rise again, and the fierce soul of Black Rifle was satisfied.

Scattered shots were fired, after another silence, and a bullet grazed the back of Grosvenor’s hand, drawing a drop or two of blood. It stung for a few moments, but, on the whole, he was proud of the little hurt.

It was a badge of honor, and made him truly a member of this great forest band. It also stimulated his zeal, and he became eager for a shot of his own. He watched intently and when the warriors fired again he sent his bullet at the flash, as he had seen Willet and Black Rifle do. He did not know whether he had hit anything, but he hoped. Tayoga, who fired for the first time presently brought down a warrior, and Robert wounded another. But Willet and Black Rifle talked together in whispers and they were anxious.

“They won’t try to rush us so long as we keep among the rocks,” said the hunter. “They know now that we’re good shots, but they’ll hold us here until day when their main force will come up and then we’ll be finished.”

“It seems pretty certain that’s their plan now,” said the scout, “and between you and me, Dave, we’ve got to get away from here somehow.

The moon has faded a bit, and that will help us a little. What do you think, Tayoga?”

“We did not escape other traps to remain here in this,” replied the Onondaga. “We must take the chance and go.”

“In half an hour, perhaps. When the clouds floating up there get well before the moon.”

Robert heard them distinctly and he glanced at the moon which was steadily growing paler, while the shadows were deepening over the forest. Yet it was obvious that it would not become very dark, and the half hour of which Willet had spoken would probably measure the limit of the increase.

“Can you hear them moving in the bush, Tayoga?” asked Willet.

The Onondaga put his ear to the ground.

“Only a light sound toward the north reaches me,” he replied.

“Warriors there seem to be moving about. It may be that they have received more help. I think, Great Bear, that the time for us to go, if we go at all, is coming fast.”

Willet decided in a few minutes that it would not be any darker than it was then; and, choosing a southern direction, he crept from the rocks, the others following him in line, Tayoga as usual bringing up the rear. They made a hundred yards in silence, and, then, at a low signal from the hunter, they sank down, almost flat, every one listening for a sound from the besiegers. Only Tayoga was able to hear faint noises to right and left.

“They do not know yet that we have left the rocks,” he whispered, “and they are still watching that point. Manitou may carry us in safety between them.”

They were about to resume their painful creeping, when a half dozen rifles on their right flashed, and they dropped down again. But the bullets did not come their way, instead they rang among the rocks which they had just left. Tayoga laughed softly.

“They think we are still there,” he whispered, “and they send much lead against the inoffensive stone. The more the better for us.”

“I’m devoutly glad the rocks catch what is intended for us,” said Grosvenor, feeling intense relief. “How long do you think it will be, Tayoga, before I can stand up and walk like a man again?”

“No one can answer that question,” replied the Onondaga. “But remember, Red Coat, that you are getting splendid practice in the art of going silently along a trail on a dark night. It is what every forest runner must learn.”

Grosvenor in the dusk could not see the twinkle in Tayoga’s eye, but, drawing upon fresh founts of courage and resolution, he settled himself anew to his task. His elbows and knees ached and it was difficult to carry his rifle as he crawled along, but his ambition was as high as ever, and he would not complain. The lone hoot of an owl came from the point on the right, where one of the Indian groups lay, and it was promptly answered by a like sound from the left where another group was hidden.

“I think they’re beginning to suspect that we may have slipped away,” said Willet, “and they’re talking to one another about it. Now they’ll stalk the rocks to see, but that will take time, which we can use handily. Come on, lads, we’ll go as fast as possible.”

Curving around a small hill, Willet rose to his feet and the others, with intense relief, did likewise. Robert’s and Grosvenor’s joints were young and elastic, and the stiffness quickly left them, but both had done enough creeping and crawling for one night. All stood listening for a minute or two. They heard no more shots fired at the rocks, but the two owls began to call again to each other.

“Do you understand them, Tayoga?” asked Willet.

“They talk the Huron language,” replied the Onondaga, in his precise fashion, “that is, their signals are those used by the Hurons. They are asking each other what has happened at the rocks, and neither can tell. Their expression is that of doubt, impatience and worry. They say to each other: ‘Those whom we believed we held in a trap may have broken out of it. It will take time to see and also much peril if they are still in the trap, because they can use their rifles well.’ We annoy them much, Great Bear.”

The big hunter chuckled.

“I don’t mind that,” he said. “Their worries are not my worries. Ah, there they go again! What are they saying now, Tayoga?”

“Their tone grows more anxious. You can tell what they feel by the expression of the owl. Their fear that we may have stolen out of the trap is increasing, but they cannot know unless they go and see, and then they may be creeping into the muzzles of our rifles. It is a difficult problem that we have given them to solve, Great Bear.”

“We’ll leave it for ‘em, lads. Now that we’re on our feet we’ll go at speed.”

They walked very rapidly, but they stopped when they heard once more the faint cries of the owls, now almost lost in the distance. Tayoga interpreted them.

“They are cries of anger,” he said. “They have discovered that we are not in the rocks, and now they will look around for our trail, which will be hard to find in the darkness of the night.”

“And the thing for us to do is to keep on toward the south as hard as we can.”

“So it would be, Great Bear, but others are coming up from the south, and we would go directly into their arms.”

“What do you mean, Tayoga?”

“A number of men are advancing, and I think they are warriors.”

“Then we have merely slipped out of one trap to fall into another.”

“It is possible, Great Bear. It is also possible that those who come are friends. Let me put my ear to the earth, which is the bringer of sound. It is clear to me that those who walk toward us are warriors.

White men would not tread so lightly. I do not think, Great Bear, that any force of the Indians who are allied with the French would be coming up from the south, and the chances are that these be friends.”

He sent forth the call of a bird, a beautiful, clear note, and it was answered instantly with a note as clear and as beautiful.

“They are friends!” said Tayoga joyfully. “These be the Ganeagaono!”

“Ganeagaono?” exclaimed Grosvenor.

“Mohawks,” explained Robert. “The Keepers of the Eastern Gate. The leading warriors of the Six Nations and friends of ours. We are, in truth, in luck.”

Ten dusky figures came forward to meet them, and with great joy Robert recognized in the leader the fierce young Mohawk chief, Daganoweda, who once before had come to their help in a crisis. But it was Tayoga who welcomed him first.

“Daganoweda, of the clan of the Turtle, of the nation, Ganeagaono, of the great League of the Hodenosaunee, the sight of you is very pleasant to our eyes,” he said.

“Tayoga, of the clan of the Bear, of the Nation, Onondaga, of the great League of the Hodenosaunee, you are my brother and we are well met,” the chief rejoined.

They saluted each other and then Daganoweda greeted the others, all of whom were known to him of old save Grosvenor, but who was presented duly in the ceremonious style loved by the Iroquois.

“We are pursued by men of Tandakora,” said Willet. “They are not far away now. We do not wish to fight them because we would hasten below with a warning.”

The black eyes of the fierce Mohawk flashed.

“Will the Great Bear give us his battle?” he said.

He asked for it as if for a favor.

“We usually fight our own quarrels through,” replied Willet, “but as I said, duty calls us from here in haste. Then, since you wish it, Daganoweda, we pass the fight to you. But have you enough men?”

“Ten Mohawks are enough to meet any wandering band of our enemies that may be in the woods,” replied the young chief, proudly. “Let Great Bear and his friends go in peace. This fight is ours.”

Despite the dusk, Robert saw Daganoweda’s eyes glisten. He thoroughly understood the fierce soul of the young Mohawk chief, who would not let such a brilliant opportunity for battle pass him.

“Then farewell, Daganoweda,” said Willet. “You have been a friend at the right moment.”

He led again in the flight toward the south and the five saw the chief and his warriors passing the other way sink into the dusk. Soon they heard shots behind them and they knew that the Mohawks were engaged in battle with the Hurons and their friends. They sped on for a long time, and when they stopped they were close to the shores of the lake, the water showing dimly through the trees.

“I think we may rest easy for a while now,” said Willet. “I’m certain not one of those warriors was able to get by the Mohawks, and it’s not likely that an enemy is within several miles of us. Can you hear anything, Tayoga?”

“Nothing,” replied the Onondaga. “Tododaho, on his star, tells me that we have this part of the forest to ourselves.”

“That being so, we’ll stay here a long time. Lads, you might unroll your blankets and make the best of things.”

Grosvenor’s blanket had not been taken from him when he was a prisoner, and it was still strapped on his back. He and Robert found the rest most welcome and they were not slow in wrapping the blankets around their bodies and making themselves comfortable. Without willing it, they fell asleep, but were awakened shortly after dawn.

“See!” said Willet, pointing toward the south.

A filmy trail of blue smoke rose across the clear, blue sky.

“That, whatever it is,” said the hunter, “is what St. Luc is advancing against, but in spite of all the risks we’ve run we’ll be there in time to give warning.”

Robert looked with the deepest interest at the smoke, which was a long way off, but it seemed to rise from the lake’s edge and he thought it must be a British or American post. It was at a most exposed and dangerous point, but his heart thrilled at Willet’s words. Yes, in spite of every danger that had been thrown across their path, they would be able to carry word in time.

“We’ll be there in half an hour, and we’ll know what’s going forward,” said Willet.

“We’ll know before then,” said Grosvenor confidently. “Our marvelous Indian friend here will tell us when we’re half way.”

Tayoga smiled, but said nothing, and they started again, Willet, as usual, leading, and the Onondaga bringing up the rear. The spire of smoke thickened and darkened, and, to Robert and Grosvenor, it seemed most friendly and alluring. It appeared to rise from a little point of land thrust into the lake but they could not yet see its base, owing to an intervening hill. Just before they reached the crest of the hill Tayoga said: