Munroe Kirk
At War with Pontiac; Or, The Totem of the Bear: A Tale of Redcoat and Redskin
CHAPTER XXIII
DISCOVERED AND PURSUED BY SAVAGES
It was only for a moment that Donald was overcome by the chill despair that, in presence of an imminent and overwhelming danger, often paralyzes the most resolute. Then it passed as suddenly as it had come. The hot blood surged through his veins, his heart was filled with a fierce joy at the prospect of contest, and, under the vigorous impulse of his stout young arms, the canoe bounded forward as though it were animate and shared his feelings. Perhaps it was all owing to the fact that, having rounded the point, the pursuing savages were momentarily lost to view, and their yells no longer rang in his ears. At any rate, the sudden terror was conquered, as it always is by brave men, though with cowards it stays to the end.
Donald headed straight for the beach, gained it, hastily dragged his canoe behind some bushes, and, seizing only his rifle, plunged into the forest. He reflected that it must be some minutes before his pursuers could strike his trail; and, with that advantage of time, he surely ought to reach the fort in advance of them. So, while he ran at a great speed, he still saved his strength, and by no means did his best. This he reserved for a later emergency.
He had hardly got under way when the spiteful crack of a rifle rang out from the forest directly in front of him. Almost at the same instant he threw up his arms, staggered forward, and fell. As he did so, a painted savage leaped from behind a tree and raised a hand to his mouth to produce the quavering of a triumphant war-whoop. With its first shrill note a second rifle uttered its deadly summons; the exulting Indian leaped high, and fell, pierced by Donald's bullet. Then the latter arose, hastily reloaded, and, with only a contemptuous glance at the dead foe who had been so easily beguiled, sped on his way. There might be other Indians in his path; but if they were all as simple as that fellow, he should not mind them.
The young woodsman had not been harmed nor even grazed by his adversary's bullet, and unexpected as it was, he had been quick-witted enough to put into practice one of Truman Flagg's long-ago lessons. Often, when he was a child, playing in the edge of the woods near Tawtry House, had he flung up his little arms and dropped in that very manner, at the sound of an unexpected shot, fired into the air, from the old scout's rifle. Thus, though he had never before been obliged to resort to it for self-preservation, the action now came to him as naturally as breathing.
Now, as he sped forward, his pace was accelerated by a series of yells that announced the landing, and discovery of his trail by the pursuers whom he had first seen. Then, though an unbroken silence reigned in the pleasant forest glades, he knew that swift runners were on his track and that the time had come for his utmost exertions.
Mile after mile he ran until he had covered a goodly number before his strength began to fail. At length he was panting so that each hissing breath was a stab, and his eyesight grew dim. He plunged, almost headlong, down the precipitous side of a ravine and at its bottom, fell, face downward, into the cool waters of a rippling brook. How deliciously refreshing were the two or three great gulps that he swallowed. How the life-giving fluid thrilled his whole frame! If he could only lie there as long as he chose and drink his fill! But he could not; two magic words rang like bells in his ears, "Edith" and "Christie." For his own life alone he would hardly have prolonged this terrible race with death; but for theirs he must run while he had strength to stand. So, almost as he fell, he was again on his feet and scrambling up the steep opposite side of the ravine.
As he gained its crest, a rattling sound caused him to look back—the foremost of his pursuers was leaping down the farther side. How fresh and powerful he looked—within two minutes he would overtake him. Would he? Edith and Christie! The crack of a rifle, the hiss of a bullet, and the powerful Indian lay quietly beside the little stream as though resting after his long run. Donald had no time for reloading, and flinging away his gun, he again sprang forward.
There was a ringing in his ears; but through it he heard the howls of rage that announced the discovery of the silent one lying by the little stream, and knew that a desire for vengeance would add swiftness to the feet of his pursuers. His own seemed weighted with lead, and he felt that he was crawling; but though he could not realize it he was still running splendidly, and with almost undiminished speed.
As he leaped, crashing through the underbrush, he was mistaken for a deer, and only the quick eye of a hunter who was already raising his rifle for a shot saved him from death at the hands of those whom he would warn of their peril.
"Halt! who comes?" rang out in crisp tones from him who still presented his rifle hesitatingly, as he detected the Indian costume of the advancing runner.
"Friend! The enemy! Oh, Christie!" gasped the fugitive as he staggered into the arms of the young commandant at Fort Presque Isle.
"By Heavens! It is Donald Hester," he cried in terror, "and I came near shooting him for a deer! Thank God! Thank God that my hand was stayed! Why, lad, what is it? You are near dead with running; what danger threatens?"
"Fly, Christie, fly," panted Donald. "The savages are in hot pursuit."
"And leave you, lad? Not while I have breath in my body and a rifle in my hand. Rest a minute and recover your breath while we welcome those who follow you so hotly. Martin, get behind yon tree while I hold this one. Take you the first redskin who appears, and I will deal with the second. That will at least serve to check them while we can reload. Steady! here they come."
It was fortunate indeed for Donald that his friend, seized with a longing for fresh venison, had chosen that morning for a hunt, and, taking a man with him, had entered the forest. They were not yet a half-mile from the fort when they met the exhausted fugitive as described. Now their rifles blazed at other game than deer, and, as Christie had predicted, the pursuit was checked; for only two had followed thus far, though within a mile scores of others were ranging the forest.
The two men instantly reloaded and, without exposing themselves beyond the sheltering tree trunks, waited a full minute without detecting further movement or sound. Then Donald begged them to retreat while there was yet time, and the three set forth for the fort.
As they ran, each of the others passed an arm through one of Donald's, and the woods being open, they were able thus to make good speed. Even as they went, Donald could not repress the one eager inquiry that, in spite of all distractions, was ever uppermost in his thoughts.
"Edith. Is she safe, Christie?"
"My poor fellow, I know nothing concerning her. I hoped you had news."
"Has Cuyler reached the tort?"
"Yes; and left two days since for Niagara."
"And Edith was not with him?"
"No."
"He knew nothing of her fate?"
"Nothing."
Donald said no more; but his form as supported by the two men became noticeably heavier, as though it had been suddenly deprived of some upbearing and stimulating force.
As the three dashed into the little post, which was only garrisoned by a score of troops, they were none too soon; for, almost at the same moment, a rattling volley and fierce yelling gave notice that the siege of Presque Isle was begun. But the garrison was not taken by surprise, for the shots from the forest had been heard, and half a dozen soldiers had run out to protect the retreat of the fugitives.
Christie's first attention was given to the friend whose coming had not only placed the garrison on guard, but had saved him from being cut off, as he certainly would have been had not his hunting been interrupted. So he led Donald to his own quarters, showed him where to find food and drink, and then left him to recover his strength.
The so-called fort of Presque Isle was but a collection of a dozen low wooden buildings ranged about a parade ground, in which was the single well of the place. It was unprotected by palisades or walls of any kind; but was provided with a citadel in shape of a stout blockhouse that stood at one angle of the fort and was separated by a few yards of open space from the quarters of the commanding officer.
The location of the post was unfortunate, from a military point of view, in that it occupied a small, open flat, commanded on one side by the beach ridge of the lake, and on another by the equally high bank of a stream that entered the lake at a right angle.
The first fire of the enemy, who had fully expected to surprise the place and effect its capture as a mere incident in their pursuit of Cuyler, was delivered from the beach ridge and was harmless. A few minutes later, however, there came a scathing cross-fire from the high creek-bank on the other side. By this, one man who was crossing the parade was killed and several were wounded. A little later tongues of flame appeared on the bark-covered roof of a building, and it was evident that no place of safety existed outside the blockhouse. To this, then, Christie ordered the immediate retreat of his entire force.
Already were the rifles of several picked marksmen blazing from the upper story of this stronghold, and the rest of the garrison, by running close along the sheltering walls of the other buildings, gained in safety the protection of its stout logs.
"Sorry not to give you a little longer breathing spell, old man," said Ensign Christie to Donald, as he entered his own quarters for the last time; "but those chaps out there are so inconsiderate in their shooting that it has become necessary for us to move. So if you will just step over to the castle, we will try to entertain you there, and can at least promise you plenty of occupation."
"All right," replied Donald, "I'm ready, and nearly as fit as ever; but have you any hope of beating them off eventually, Christie? If not, I want to make a break for the woods as soon as it comes dark. I must get back up the lake, for I am not yet prepared to give up the search for my sister Edith."
"Nor shall you, my dear fellow, and I would join you in it with all my heart if it were not for my duty here," replied the other, earnestly. "At present, though, it would be more than folly to attempt an escape from this place, and our only hope is to hold out until Wilkins sends the reinforcements for which I have applied through Cuyler."
"Is there any chance of doing it?"
"There is every chance for us to do our best in trying."
A minute later the two young men had passed into the blockhouse, its heavy oaken door was slammed and barred behind them, and the defence of the little wilderness stronghold was begun.
CHAPTER XXIV
CHRISTIE'S BRAVE DEFENCE OF HIS POST
Twenty men, with scanty supplies of everything, shut up in a tiny castle of logs, and fighting against two hundred, who were well armed, well provisioned, and protected by natural earthworks, not over forty yards distant. Donald's heart grew heavy as he realized the situation; but with Christie's cheery voice in his ears he could do naught save follow so brave an example and set to work with a will. There was plenty to be done in that hot little enclosure, already filling with smoke, and only lighted by narrow loop-holes pierced in the thick walls. The fire of the enemy was chiefly directed at these, which rendered the task of watching from them most dangerous. Still, it must be done, for many of the Indians were brave enough to dash across the open with blazing firebrands in hand, and these must be stopped at all costs. Half a dozen were killed in this attempt before it was abandoned, and the efforts to set the blockhouse on fire were continued by another and most ingenious device.
This was the throw-stick, or fire-bow, which they soon began to work with serious effect from behind their breastworks, which they had strengthened by rolling logs to the top of the banks. The fire-bow was a stout bar of ash, hickory, or other pliant wood, one end of which was firmly set in the earth. In the other was hollowed a shallow cavity, and just beneath was attached a stout thong, by which the bow could be drawn back. A ball of tow, or other inflammable material, wound about a small stone to give it weight, was saturated with pitch. The upper end of the bow was drawn back, a fire ball placed in the cavity and lighted, the thong released, and the blazing missile projected with the force and accuracy of an arrow against the devoted building.
Again and again its walls caught fire, but each blaze was extinguished by the activity of the garrison as soon as discovered.
Fire-arrows, shot into the air, fell on the dry shingles of the roof, and hardly a minute passed that a tiny blaze did not spring from one part or another of it. The roof could be gained from the interior, through an opening protected on two sides by a barricade of plank, and here Donald was stationed, at his own request.
From this elevated position he soon discovered a new danger, and one that he had never before heard of in Indian warfare. He could see quantities of earth and stones being thrown out behind one of the breastworks, and became convinced that the enemy were excavating a subterranean passage, or mine, toward the blockhouse. So well did the young soldier realize the terrible menace of this new danger, against which no defence could be made, that he dared not announce it to the troops for fear of disheartening them. So, deserting his post for a moment, he hastened to report it in person to Christie.
Ere the latter had time to consider this peril, another equally grave and more imminent confronted him. The water barrels were nearly empty, and the roof was again on fire. Donald rushed back to his post, while Christie ordered two men to follow him to the lower story. He knew that without water all hope of resistance must quickly disappear. Certain death awaited him who should attempt to reach the well in the parade ground. There was no other.
"So," said Christie, with a calm cheerfulness, "we must needs dig one nearer at hand." With this, he and his two men set to work tearing up the floor of the lower story, and, seizing a spade, the commander himself began flinging out the earth beneath it.
Inspired by this example, his men worked with a will at this cheerless task, and in spite of darkness, heat, thirst, and the suffocating atmosphere, never was a well sunk more quickly. At the same time it was not half completed when so serious a fire broke out on the roof that the entire remaining stock of water was exhausted in extinguishing it.
An hour later the roof was again in a blaze; but Donald caused himself to be lowered by a rope, and amid a shower of bullets tore away the flaming shingles with his bare hands. Thus was the danger once more averted.
By this time the day was well spent. Several of the garrison had been killed, and a number were wounded. These last called piteously for water, and gazed with longing eyes at the limitless expanse of the lake, so near at hand and yet so hopelessly remote. By sunset the well-diggers were in moist earth, before nine o'clock the wounded were eagerly quaffing a muddy liquid that gave them new life, and by midnight two feet of water stood in the well.
During the night, although the enemy's fire was slackened, it never entirely ceased. Balls of blazing pitch were discharged at frequent intervals, and no moment of rest was allowed the weary garrison. At daybreak, exulting cries from the rear, and a ruddy glow, announced some new cause for anxiety. In a few minutes the worst was known. The underground approach had been advanced as far as Christie's quarters, which were immediately set on fire. Only a narrow space separated this building from the blockhouse, and with the fierce blaze of its pine logs the stifling heat in the latter became almost unsupportable. It seemed to the men that the time to yield had come; but their commander was not yet ready to acknowledge the situation as hopeless. Even when the scorched and smoking walls of their prison house burst into flame, he only bade them work the harder, and inspired them by his own heroism. Thanks to the new well, they succeeded in holding the flames in check until the blazing building that had threatened them finally sank into a mass of glowing embers, and their little fortress still stood intact.
With the reaction following this supreme effort, many of the men again gave way to despair. All were sickened by the great heat, the stifling smoke, and the exhaustion of twenty-four hours of continuous fighting. Donald held to his strength better than any, because from his perilous position on the roof he could at least breathe pure air; while Christie, who fought beside his men, was so upheld by his indomitable will that he would not acknowledge fatigue.
So the defence was maintained, until the second day of incessant toil, fighting, and hoping against hope for relief, dragged out its weary length, and darkness once more brooded over Presque Isle. From behind the breastworks rifles flashed incessantly until midnight, when the firing ceased, and from out of the darkness a voice hailed the fort in English.
"What is wanted?" demanded Christie.
"You are called upon to surrender," answered the voice, "since further resistance is useless."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you will shortly be blown into eternity. Your fort is undermined, and a great store of powder is already in position to blow it up. If you surrender, your lives shall be spared."
"Ask them to wait until morning for your answer," suggested Donald, in a low tone. "I have a particular reason for the request."
Christie agreed to this, and the proposition was submitted.
There was a long pause, and an evident discussion, before the voice answered:—
"The beggars will only grant that request on one condition."
"Name it."
"It is that neither you nor those under your command shall make any attempt to escape during the time of truce."
"Am I under your command, Christie?" asked Donald.
"Certainly not," was the answer.
"All right. I only wanted to be sure that the condition wouldn't bind me."
"Well," cried the voice, impatiently, "do you agree?"
"I agree," replied Christie, "and by sunrise will have ready my final answer."
In the profound and grateful quiet that followed the cessation of firing, most of the exhausted garrison flung themselves down where they stood, and were instantly buried in slumber. Donald and Christie sought food, and while they ate discussed the situation.
"You have splendidly defended your post, Christie, but you have come to the end of your resources," said the former. "You could not hold out for another day, even if what that fellow said about the mine should prove false."
"No, I suppose not," replied the young commander, sadly. "My poor lads are nearly used up."
"Then you will surrender?"
"I suppose so."
"In that case, they will probably spare your lives, at least until they get you to the Indian villages near Detroit."
"They may do so."
"But you will be prisoners, and that is what I cannot afford to become. I must retain my freedom, if it lies within my power to do so, until I have found Edith, or discovered her fate."
"What do you propose to do?" inquired Christie, starting from his despondent attitude.
"I mean to leave this place within an hour and take to the woods."
"But—"
"There are no buts, my dear fellow. I am determined to make the attempt. You have acknowledged that I am not under your command, and so am not held by the condition just imposed. I hate to leave you, and would a thousand times rather stand by you and share your fate, whatever it may be; but my duty seems to lie so plainly in another direction that I must go."
"You are right, Hester," assented Christie, sadly, "and with all my heart do I wish I were free to share your mission. There is no peril, no hardship, that I would not gladly face in the cause for which you are enlisted. I tremble, though, for your safety, and cannot believe that you will escape without detection from the savages who encircle us."
"I can try," answered Donald, "and the cause is certainly worthy of the effort."
So it was settled, and soon afterward the two young men, whose friendship had become like the love of brothers, stood by the partially opened door of the blockhouse. The night was of inky blackness, and the silence was profound. Only a dull glow still lighted faintly the smouldering ruins of the commandant's quarters. Donald held a rifle, and bore with him a stout knife, a small supply of ammunition, and a little store of food. No word accompanied the parting. There was but a long, firm hand clasp, and then one was gone as noiselessly as a fleeting shadow, while the other remained to meet his unknown fate.
