Under Wolfe's Flag; or, The Fight for the Canadas

by Rowland Walker

  *CHAPTER X*

  *A LONELY FRONTIERSMAN*

  "Paleface?" exclaimed the lads, standing up in the canoe, and strainingtheir eyes as if to catch a glimpse of that mysterious stranger who washidden in the depth of the forest.

  "Aren't you afraid that we may be attacked?"

  "Ugh!" replied the warrior, without moving a muscle of his dark face, orshowing the slightest trace of alarm. "Him--great paleface hunter.Friend of the Iroquois. Smoke peace-pipe with the White Eagle."

  As they paddled quickly past the spot Jamie turned again and again tolook at that faint column of receding smoke, now growing fainter andfainter.

  "Who can this paleface hunter be, so far away from his home and friends,dwelling alone in these dark forests? Perhaps he is an exile from hiscountry!" murmured the lad to himself. Then a strange yearning cameover him. He longed to go ashore, that he might join this lonelyfrontiersman, and share his hardships and his perils, but he hesitatedto suggest it to the chief, whose face now bore such a stolid, mask-likelook. And soon the long, swift strokes of the paddles bore them pastthe spot.

  There must be something in nature--though perfectly inexplicable to us,who know so little of the unseen verities--that transmits through theether that surrounds us, feelings of sympathy and love to kindred souls,just as in these later days of our civilisation the wireless message isflung from ship to ship and coast to coast. For the fact remains, thatjust at this moment the sturdy paleface hunter, as he stooped to placemore pine-wood on his blazing fire, felt at his very heart a twinge ofpain, so that for an instant his eyes were blurred, and he saw no longerthe blazing fire, the dark forest, or the pile of beaver skins that hisskilful hands had taken, for another vision rose before his face.

  'Twas the vision of an old-world village, in a sweet little island thatrose out of the main, far-off; and to him 'twas "Home, sweet home"still, though his feet must never tread that land again, for he was anexile, a victim to the cruel game-laws, that had banished him from hiscountry. Here, 'twas true, the whole forest was his, with all itcontained. The beaver, the otter, the fish in the streams, and even thered-spotted deer were his for the taking; but still his heart stole backagain to that forbidden land.

  "Oh, that I might drop a tear and plant a flower on thy grave, Lisbeth!Thou wert all the world to me--a true wife and a friend. And the bairn?Oh, my God! the bairn! Where is he?"

  And here this strong man, hardened by nature to all the toils anddangers of the forest, the rapids, the wild beasts, and the scalpingparties of red foes, broke down in an agony of tears and wept, for hethought of his little blue-eyed laddie of two years; the poor motherlessbairn, as he had last seen him, with his flaxen curls nestling in hisarms.

  How often he had longed to go home and find his boy, to find even if hewere yet alive; but the thought came to him each time--

  "How have they taught the lad to regard his father? Perhaps they havetold him that I am dead! Well, maybe 'tis better so! Or perhaps theyhave said, 'He is an exile in a far-off land, and he will return nomore, for in the eyes of the law he is a criminal.' Then so it mustremain, lest the father's curse should blight the lad; but what would Inot give to see my child again after all these years."

  Then he flung himself down upon a pile of skins and wept again. Thatnight sleep fled from his eyelids, as it had often done before whenthese longings for the homeland had come over him, but never, neverbefore had his agony been so great. He prayed his God for something hehad never dared to ask before. It was that he might be permitted,before he died, to look upon the face of his child again, even thoughthe lad should not know him. And his prayer was answered, for an angelfrom the stars above came down and kissed him, as he lay beneath thesilent pines, and whispered--

  "It shall be!"

  And he slept, for his cares had fled, and a deep peace had filled hissoul.

  Such were thy sons, oh, England! Their bold, proud spirits chafed andwere cramped within thy narrow limits, and narrower laws, made by andfor the selfish few, in days, happily, long past. And yet they lovedtheir native land, though exiled from hearth and home; and when dutycalled, they lined thy distant frontiers; they held thy far-flungborders, and were content to leave their bones to bleach beside somelonely outpost of the Empire they helped to build. But let us for awhile leave this lonely frontiersman, and return to our friends andtheir Iroquois companions.

  Four days had been spent in navigating Lake Ontario, and they were nowapproaching Niagara, below whose thunderous rapids stood the French fortthat guarded both the river and the lakes.

  Towards evening on the fourth day a distant speck was seen approachingfrom the westward, and the White Eagle, standing in the bow of theforemost canoe, as he gazed into the face of the setting sun, permitteda sudden cry of surprise to escape from his lips--

  "Algonquins!"

  'Twas only too true, for there, rapidly approaching and hugging thesouthern shore of the lake, was a large party of their hated foes, intheir big canoes of elm-bark.

  The discovery appeared to be mutual, for both parties rent the air withtheir respective war-cries, and hastened ashore to make ready for thecoming battle. Darkness soon settled over forest and lake, but allthrough the night the woods resounded with the dreadful war-whoops ofthe Indians, as they chanted their war-songs, and worked themselves intoa frenzy of fury.

  What a night that was for the two young paleface warriors! The warfever of the Iroquois had in a measure entered into their blood, forthey saw in the Algonquins the allies of France and the enemies ofEngland, so they prepared to defend themselves in the morning.

  Day dawned at last, and White Eagle and his braves pressed forward tobattle; not shoulder to shoulder, nor in unresisting phalanx, as thesoldiers of the palefaces fought, but in true Indian fashion thedark-skinned warriors leapt from tree to tree, and cover to cover.Showers of arrows and bullets rattled amongst the trees and rocks, andthe wild yells became every moment fiercer and fiercer. Several warriorshad fallen on each side, and a dozen scalps had been taken, as thefrequent yells of triumph announced.

  Deeds of desperate valour were recklessly performed. Homeric contests,ending in frightful wounds or instant death were frequently engaged in,when suddenly, from behind the cover of a huge elm-tree, the Algonquinchief, his plume of black raven feathers nodding with his frenziedaction, rushed into the open and challenged the Iroquois leader tosingle combat.

  With a yell of delight White Eagle bounded into the clearing, andaccepted the offer. Then, instantly, as if by instinct, every weapon waslowered, and the non-combatants ranged themselves on either side, in arude semicircle, with a rising back-ground of tall pines and elms, towatch this gladiatorial contest, which threatened to be both brief andsanguinary.

  Then followed a pause, during which the two chiefs addressed each otherin the figurative but boastful braggadocia, in the use of which the redmen excelled all the other nations of the world. The Algonquin chief,whose name was "Black Raven," began as follows--

  "Mingo dog! where are the scalps of the Iroquois warriors who came tothe Canada River? Ten of them have not returned to their tribe, sincethe snows melted. My children went to the lodges of the Maquas and theOneidas, but they found only squaws and children. The scalps of theIroquois are in the wigwams of the Canadas, and the Canada Father hasrewarded his children with many hatchets, and powder to burn in the faceof their enemies, because they have cleared the snakes from the woods!The moccasins of the Iroquois cannot be found in the forest. They havebeen driven from the hunting-grounds of their fathers, never, never toreturn----!"

  "Skunk of the Algonquins!" retorted the Iroquois, "your tongue isforked, like the serpent that hides its head in the grass, and your armis feeble as the squaw of the Delaware. The singing-birds have calledyour young men from their Canada lodges, so that my warriors may taketheir scalps, for before the sun is amongst the pines, your warriorswill have followed him into the hunting-grounds
of the Great Spirit."

  "Iroquois muskrat! Your tongue is sharper than your knife!"

  "Hark! What is that sound that I hear? 'Tis the wailing of the squawsin your Canada lodges, because their young men return no more."

  "Iroquois snake! Skulking fox!" retorted the Algonquin. "'Tis to youthat the singing-birds have spoken, but they have spoken falsely.Slaves of the Yengeese! Never more will your war-whoop be heard in thewoods; never more will you fish the streams and hunt the deer, forbefore the sun shall rise the girdles of my young men will be heavy withyour scalps. 'Tis the Mingoes who are women, like the Delawares. Theykilled my young men when the face of the Manitou was turned away fromHis children in anger, but now the Great Spirit has delivered you intoour hands, and nevermore shall your squaws behold you."

  "Dogs of the Canadas! The Iroquois are free and strong as the eaglethat soars to the clouds, but the Algonquins are skunks and muskrats.They are slaves to the Canada palefaces. Go hunt the deer and the moosefor your French Father, and when, for your portion, he throws you theoffals--be grateful."

  The tomahawk of the French Indian whirled in the air, as, stung by thisbiting insult to his tribe, he hurled it at his enemy, and so true wasthe aim that it only missed the scalp of the Iroquois by an inch, for itcarried away half his plume of eagle feathers.

  A loud cry of vengeance arose from his warriors as this deadly missilewhizzed past their leader.

  The next instant the wild scream of an eagle, which was the peculiarwar-cry of this renowned chief, rang through the glades and across thelake as the leaders closed in deadly combat. Like the leap of thepanther, when robbed of its young, was the fierce onset of the Iroquoischief. Fifty gleaming knives were snatched from their sheaths, and heldaloft; but before the warriors on either side could reach the spot, thetomahawk of the White Eagle had stretched his opponent upon the ground,and with keen knife he had already snatched away the trophy that honourdemanded.

  Then, amid war-whoops and wild yells of savage fury, the fierce passionsof the warriors became undammed, and a short but sanguinary conflictoccurred. The Algonquins, despite the loss of their leader, foughtbravely for a while, but were at length overwhelmed by the relentlessfury of the Iroquois. Then they quickly broke and scattered through theforest, pursued by their enemy.

  Thus ended another of those fierce fights, so common amongst the Indianstribes in the middle of the eighteenth century, while all the time thearmies of the two paleface nations from towards the sun-rising werepreparing for that final death grapple, which was to settle for ever thedestiny of the northern half of that mighty continent; and to drive thescattered tribes of the children of the Manitou ever westward towardsthe setting sun.

  In this brief fight the youths had remained little more than passivespectators, for they soon saw how the conflict must end, and thatwithout their help the Iroquois, although outnumbered, would secure thevictory.

  "I do wish, Jack, that our allies would desist from that barbarouspractice of taking scalps. See there! a dozen scalps already hang atthe girdles of our comrades, and even yet they are not satisfied, butmust pursue their wretched victims into the woods. Bah! My heartsickens at the sight!"

  "'Tis Indian nature, Jamie. Victory brings them no honour unless thevictim's scalp be taken. Even the squaws look askance at the warriorwho returns from the war-path without these hideous trophies hanging athis belt."

  "There seems little honour to me in mangling the corpse of a fallenvictim."

  "Why, the youth is scarcely regarded as a man till he has brought homehis first scalp. Their belief is, that the spirit and strength of thedead man enters into the victorious brave, and, horrible as it is, andGod knows how I hate it all, 'tis not more horrible than the deeds ofsome of the paleface pirates in the Southern Seas, who sometimes treattheir unfortunate victims in a cruel and barbarous manner."

  They had been leaning on their rifles, on a little rising ground nearthe lake, watching the fight and the pursuit, when suddenly from out thedark aisles of the forest there came the piercing scream of the eagleonce more.

  "What can be the matter now? Surely the enemy are not returning,reinforced!" cried Red Feather, quickly bringing his rifle to the ready.

  "No. 'Tis the signal for the return of the braves; evidently WhiteEagle scents a new danger, and is anxious to get away."

  "What new danger can there be?"

  "Why, don't you see that the Algonquins have taken the route that willlead them to the French fort at Niagara, where almost every soldier willturn out to their assistance, when they hear that the renowned WhiteEagle is within twenty miles of the fort? At least, I assume that isthe cause; but look! Here comes the chief himself, and he is making forthe canoes. Let us speak with him."