CHAPTER VII
THE THREE FRENCH TRAPPERS
"KEEP cool, now, Sandy!" advised Bob, as he felt his brother tremblingwith indignation because of this bold attitude on the part of the trioof French forest rangers, who evidently believed in the maxim that"might makes right."
"But, Bob, see, they mean to take our game from us!" exclaimed theimpetuous Sandy, who could not mistake the intentions of the Frenchtrappers.
One of the men was a tall, gaunt fellow, with the eye of a hawk. Heseemed to be something of a leading spirit among his comrades. Bob feltthat he possessed a cruel nature, and such a man, he believed, wouldonly too gladly conspire with bloodthirsty Indians to surprise the newsettlements of the English, and raze them to the ground.
This fellow thrust himself forward, and, scowling darkly, demanded infairly good English:
"What for you say zat ze game is yours? Haf you not ze eye to see zataftaire ze first fire ze buck he nevaire run far? And as for zat bulletyou send, poof! it haf been waste in ze air!" and with that he snappedhis fingers contemptuously, as though that settled the matter beyonddispute.
They were only a couple of half-grown boys, after all, and could hardlyhold out against three burly men, accustomed to a strenuous life.
But Sandy was quick to see things; nor did he have the prudence tohold his tongue when he believed he was being wronged. No doubt he hadbeen more or less influenced in his opinion of these French tradersand _voyageurs_ by what he had so often heard Pat O'Mara declare--thatthey were without exception the "scum of the earth, and fit only fortreason, stratagem and spoils."
"But see, only one bullet has struck the deer in a place where it woulddown him--right here behind the shoulder!" he cried, pointing with atrembling hand at the blood on the red hair of the animal.
"Zat is so, young monsieur," said the Frenchman smoothly, and with amocking bow; "and I assure you it was just zere zat I aim my rifle.Sacre! Andre, and you, Jules, tell me if zis be not one fine shot!"
"But," cried the indignant Sandy immediately, "I tell you that isimpossible!"
The tall and ugly Frenchman scowled, and then laughed harshly.
"Say you so, my leetle fire-eater?" he exclaimed. "How it is zat youcome to zat conclusion?"
"Because," said the pioneer boy boldly, "if you look you will see thatthe bullet that killed the buck entered from the _right_; and we wereon that side, not you. So the honor of killing this deer belongs to mybrother."
The other Frenchmen evidently understood the point Sandy was making,even though not capable of speaking much English. They grinned, andcast quick glances at the dark-faced leader, as if wondering how hewould take this thrust.
The tall trapper scowled savagely, and half raised his empty gunmenacingly. But Sandy never gave way a particle. He knew that his gunwas still loaded, while, in all probability, those of the others hadnot been recharged; three shots had sounded, proving that all had takena chance at hitting the elusive buck.
"Zat is a great meestake," the fellow ejaculated, fiercely; "and itvould be well for you nevaire to repeat it to me. It makes me out vonliar, and think you I vill stand for zat from a boy like you? My bullethe come _out_ on ze right side, but he go _in_ at ze left!"
"Prove that, and neither of us will offer any objection to yourclaiming the game," said Sandy, quickly; but the French trapper's scowlgrew blacker than ever, for no doubt he caught the chuckling of hiscompanions.
"It does not mattaire in ze least," he remarked, with his teethsnapping together. "Zis buck is my property. I take it as my right. Allze game in zis country is ours, and ze Eenglish steal every time zeyshoot even von deer. Soon shall zey know who is ze real master here.Soon will zey repent zat zey come over ze mountains to zis land of thered men. Zey haf not take ze warning, let zem beware!"
Bob was thrilled by these words; they seemed to contain a threat ofcoming peril to the settlers. Undoubtedly Pat O'Mara had not broughthis warning any too soon, for the crafty French trappers, many of themhalf-breeds too, had stirred up the Indians to the point of declaringactual hostilities. Why, perhaps the real purpose of these three mensouth of the Ohio was not to find new trapping fields, but to spy outthe settlements, and learn of their weak points, so that later in theseason they could lead the hordes of painted savages against them, withtorch and tomahawk.
Sandy was not yet ready to give up his claim to the meat. He knew wellit had been the bullet from his brother's musket that had brought thisnoble buck to the earth.
So the boy stepped a pace backward, and raised his musket, covering theform of the tallest French trapper. The fellow was evidently astonishedat this show of resistance from those whom he was disposed to treat ashelpless, half-grown cubs.
"If you want that deer," said Sandy, plainly, "you will have to proveyour right to ownership. Turn him over, and show us the place whereyour bullet went in! When you have done that I will own up it is yourgame. But, until you do, we claim it. And I have here a _loaded_ gun toback up my claim, while all of yours are empty! Keep your distance, orI will fire!"
Bob caught his breath. He had known his impetuous brother to do manyunwise things in the past; but it seemed that he was now distancinghis own record. Nevertheless, since the gage of battle had been throwndown, Bob was not the one to shrink from accepting his share of itsresponsibilities.
His first act was characteristic of the boy; for it was to slip acharge of powder into the barrel of his gun. If he could succeed inloading before any one of their enemies thought of doing likewise,there would be two guns to oppose any move the French trappers mightthink of making.
The tall man glared at Sandy as though he would give considerable tolay hands on the boy who dared threaten him. Still, somehow, he didnot appear to fancy the way that gun kept pointing in his direction.And the face of the determined lad behind the gun told him that, if heventured to make a single aggressive movement, Sandy would press thetrigger his forefinger was touching.
The tall trapper muttered some words to his companions, who immediatelybegan to back away, one moving toward the right, and the other towardthe left.
Faster flew Bob's fingers in the effort to get that obstinate bulletrammed home before hostilities actually opened. Sandy was compelled tokeep his eyes fastened on the man directly in front of him, so that hecould not watch the others; but all the same he knew how to control thesituation.
"Remember, you sir, that, if either of your friends makes a movement,it will cost you your life, for I shall fire instantly; and at thisshort distance there is no chance for a miss. Tell them to keep back ifyou want to live!" he said, firmly.
The French trapper spluttered in rage, but he saw something in the faceof the determined young pioneer that he did not exactly fancy. So heagain spoke in his native tongue to his companions.
They immediately commenced to hastily recharge their own rifles, takingpattern from the actions of Bob. That worthy had, however, by this timesucceeded in removing his ramrod, after sending the patched bullethome, and was even priming his gun so as to be in readiness for action.
"Stop!" he exclaimed, as he menaced first one and then the second ofthe other Frenchmen. "This thing must be settled now and for good! Youhave forced us to stand up for our rights. Prove that the deer belongsto you, and we will not put in a claim."
The tall man was once more calling out, and how Bob wished that heunderstood French, so that he could tell what was said, since he fearedthat it was intended for their undoing.
Sure enough, as he turned once more toward the third trapper, hediscovered that the man had disappeared, having dropped upon his faceand rolled behind a neighboring tree. And, while he thus stood, filledwith chagrin because he had been in a measure outwitted, the secondfellow also made a quick leap that gave him temporary shelter behindanother stump.
The situation was becoming very much strained, and, with their threeenemies thus widely scattered, Bob saw that he and his brother couldnot long hope to hold the whip hand over the situation.
It seemed too bad to think that, after all, they must draw off, andallow these rascally allies of the Indians to lay hold of the game thatby rights belonged to the Armstrong larder. But, perhaps it would bebest to believe that "the one who fights, and runs away, may live tofight another day."
"Come, Sandy, we must go, and admit defeat," he said, quickly, fearinglest even now he find some trouble in convincing his hotheaded brotherthat their best policy lay in retreating while they had the chance.
Sandy shrugged his shoulders as if to show that he did not like toabandon such a fine buck when they had the best right to it.
"If we have to fight for it, let us begin by knocking over this rascalhere!" he exclaimed, waving his levelled musket menacingly at thedark-faced trapper.
"Wait, Sandy!" cried Bob. "See, there are other men coming on the run.If they prove to be Frenchmen we must get away! But perhaps they may befriends, and then we shall soon see to whom the deer belongs."
He had hardly spoken when Sandy let out a yell of delight.
"It is Simon Kenton! That is he waving his cap to us. Now hold yourown, Bob, and do not think of leaving this game. They will see fairplay on both sides. And I say again, if the deer belongs to these men Iwould not claim it for worlds. Huzza! what great luck we are having!"
Bob, too, was thrilled by the sight of Kenton, with several other menin buckskin, advancing through the forest, and closing in on the sceneof the dispute.
The trio of French trappers, unwilling to risk the chances of flight,immediately assumed a different aspect. Smiling affably, they waitedto greet the newcomers, as though now perfectly willing to submit thequestion to arbitration.
Simon Kenton, tall and lithe as a sycamore, hastened to shake handswith each of the Armstrong boys. They had been favorites of the youngwoodranger ever since the first day he met them, when, with DanielBoone, he had joined the pack-horse caravan headed for the banks of theOhio.
"What's going on here?" he asked in his musical voice, as his keen eyestook in the belligerent attitude of the two lads, and the fact thatthey were confronted by a trio of French trappers; for the other twohad now come out from their places of hiding.
"Oh! only a dispute as to who shot the buck," said Sandy, as thoughsuch an event were of every day occurrence with him.
"We were over yonder, while these men came from that direction," saidBob, as he pointed one way and another. "I was just about to fire,when there came a shot. The buck bounded off. Then two more guns spoke;but the deer only leaped the harder. I pressed the trigger and the buckdropped. When we came up, these men met us, and claimed the game. Wetold them that the only fatal bullet had entered from the right, andoffered to prove our claim, or hand the prize over to them; but theysaid they meant to have it anyway. We were just trying to back up ourwords when you happened to come up. And, Sandy, we'll let Simon Kentondecide whose bullet killed this fine buck."
Kenton looked toward the three French trappers, whom he seemed to know.
"Fairer words were never spoken, Armand Lacroix, and you know it,"he said, sternly. "You would follow out the custom of your partner,Jacques Larue, with whom my young friends are already acquainted, andclaim everything in sight because you are French, and they are English.But that sort of game will not go here. Bagstock, take a look at thebuck, and tell me whether the bullet has gone clear through the body."
One of his comrades accordingly stooped, and threw the dead animal overon the other side; when it was plainly seen that there was no mark ofa wound in the forequarter.
"I knew it!" cried Sandy, triumphantly, as he grinned at the baffledFrenchman.
"There you see, Lacroix," observed Kenton, with a nod and a smile, "thelead that brought this buck low came from the right; and this lad sayshe and his brother were on that quarter, while you stood on the left.But thar's a fairer way to decide the truth than that. Hand me yourgun, Lacroix; I promise that you shall have it again."
The French trapper looked daggers at the young ranger; but the Englishwere now five to three French, and he knew the temper of Daniel Boone'sfriend too well to test it to the breaking point.
Accordingly he reached out his discharged rifle, one of thoselong-barrelled affairs that carried so deadly a messenger, whenproperly aimed.
"Bagstock, dig for the bullet that killed the buck," Kenton went on.
Sandy's face was wreathed in a huge grin; for he instantly saw what thewoodsman had in mind.
"Now you will learn the truth, M. Lacroix," he said, exultantly, asthe burly forest ranger, laying his rifle aside, took out his huntingknife, and commenced to hack at the side of the deer, following thecourse of the bullet.
The French trapper did not appear to be at all pleased with theprobable outcome. Truth to tell, he had already discounted the resultin advance, for he knew full well that himself and comrades had not thefirst claim on the buck.
Presently Bagstock uttered an ejaculation of satisfaction, and, pickingsomething up, handed it to Simon Kenton. It was the bullet that hadbrought down the deer, a trifle dented from striking the animal'sbones, but apparently in good shape for the purposes of identification.
"Just as I thought," said Kenton, laughingly. "This bullet fits onlyin a musket such as these boys carry. Nobody could ever get it in asmaller calibre rifle like the ones you and your comrades own, Lacroix.So, that is settled, and settled the right way. And your road liesyonder. Bagstock, you and Andrew keep an eye on our friends, and ifthey so much as turn around within a mile of this, _you know what todo_!"
And thus the three baffled French trappers went away. They grumblednot, seeming to accept their defeat as the fortune of war; but themalignant look Armand Lacroix cast toward the two brothers told whatwas on his mind. If by chance they ever ran across his path again, andfortune was kind to him, the Frenchman would not be apt to forget howhe had been baited by a couple of half-grown English-speaking Americanlads. And perhaps, under such conditions, he might be able to makethings rather interesting for Bob and Sandy, particularly the latter.
The Pioneer Boys on the Great Lakes; or, On the Trail of the Iroquois Page 10