CHAPTER IX
THE MOCCASIN TRACKS THAT TOED-IN
"FIRE!"
Wildly Bob gave tongue, as he managed to draw on his garments. Thewhole of the cabin's inmates appeared on the scene in answer to hiscries, and all of them filled with the gravest apprehensions.
There was no need to ask questions, for Bob had flown out of the door,leaving it open behind him.
"Get buckets, and dip into the barrel!" shouted Mr. Armstrong.
Already had Bob started his work against the devouring flames, whichwere licking up the side of the cabin, as though bent on destroyingthe weeks of work on the part of the pioneers, in this one dreadfulhalf-hour.
Even Kate helped, finding some sort of pan in which she could carrywater, and dash it on the burning logs. Bob quickly saw that the barrelwould soon be exhausted at this rate. They must have a further supplyof water if they hoped to battle successfully with the greedy flames.
"Come with me to the spring, Sandy!" he cried huskily. "We must havemore water! This way, Mr. Brewster, with your bucket! And please runwith all your might!"
A neighbor had arrived on the scene, for the cries of the family asthey fought the devouring element had been heard, and there was noneed to ask what had happened, since the flames could be seen for somedistance.
Mr. Brewster had come up with his musket in one hand, and an emptybucket gripped in the other. Thus he was prepared for almost anythingthat might arise, for, with all this talk of an Indian uprising in theair, it was only natural that he might suspect there would be need forthe firearm as well as the wooden pail.
The three hastened to the spring, in order to secure a further additionto the supply of water. Before they had gone half way another figureshowed up, being a second neighbor who, like Mr. Brewster, had comeprepared to cope with any emergency. He joined the procession ofrunners; and in this order they arrived at the spring, which waslocated about eighty yards from the Armstrong cabin, and used byseveral families in common.
Fortunately it was of some depth, so that quite a pool formed at its"run-off." Here they filled their buckets, and started back just asfast as they could go without spilling the contents.
Others began to arrive, for, as the clamor increased, every cabin inthe settlement yielded up its quota of eager assistants. In a littlecommunity like this, where hundreds of miles separated them fromcivilization, with untold perils surrounding them, the interest of onemust ever be the interest of all. They knew not what terrible dangermight be abroad; but, with the bold spirit that marked the earlypioneer, they sallied forth to grapple with whatever threatened.
And these men did yeoman service. Some slapped at the creepingflames with garments that had been saturated with water; others beatfrantically with branches and bushes; while the few who had means forcarrying water dashed this natural enemy of fire on the flames.
Thus it was only a short time before they got the fire under control,for many hands made light work. Some damage had been done, it is true,and Mr. Armstrong would have to do more or less repairing to his cabinere it would be in as good shape as before the fire. Still, he and hisgood wife felt that they had much for which to be grateful.
"How did it start?" asked old Anthony Brady.
There was latent suspicion in his voice, for he had seen that the firehad all been on the outside, which would indicate that it certainlycould not have started in the interior from a smouldering brand fallingbeyond the hearth, such as had been the case in one other alarm theyhad had earlier in the season, before the cool nights had gone.
"I think I can make a guess," remarked Mr. Brewster, who had also beenlooking about while actively engaged in fighting the devouring element."You can see that it was on the side where Mrs. Armstrong has hersoap-kettle. She must have left a bed of red ashes after rendering downthe bear fat with the lye, and, during the night, the wind swept someof these against the logs. Perhaps there was a handful of dead leavesto act as tinder; and the rest came easy."
"But," said Bob's mother, quickly, "I did not have a fire under thesoap-kettle yesterday, nor the day before. Indeed, it is a full weeknow since I used it."
The men looked quickly at one another. They realized now that theremight be something more about this midnight burning than any of themhad ventured to imagine. Log cabins do not take fire so easily, in themiddle of the night, without some human agency back of the catastrophe.
"Come," said Anthony Brady, hoarsely, "this must be looked into. Ifsome wicked person put the torch to this cabin, we ought to find outwho he was, and punish him accordingly."
By this time there were fully a dozen men around, and nearly all ofthem carried guns of some pattern, either the long rifles of the day,or muskets that at close quarters were just as deadly.
Stern faces grew even more set as they heard their leader thus declarehimself. If a house-burner were abroad, then he must surely belongto one of two species--for they could not imagine any but a sneakingIndian, or a malicious French trapper, doing so mean a deed.
Several of the most expert trailers began to circle around at somelittle distance from the cabin. They carried either rude horn lanterns,or else burning torches of fat pine, with which each cabin was usuallywell supplied, since candles were not plentiful in those days, and hadto be made, like the soap, from the surplus fat taken from some bearthat had been secured for food.
Bob and Sandy came together while thus employed.
"Did you hear what old Reuben Jacks said, Bob?" asked the older boy,meaningly.
"You mean about that Frenchman, Armand Lacroix?" the other lad replied.
"Yes," Sandy went on, eagerly; "they hunted for him high and low, butwithout success. Reuben believes that he, or one of his men, must havedone this out of revenge, because we defied him and took away the buckwhen he had declared he meant to possess it."
"It may be so," Bob observed, thoughtfully. "I have heard so much aboutthe treachery and trickery of those traders from the north, that Iwould not think it beyond one of them to try and burn a cabin in thenight. That man hates us both, and you particularly, because of theway you held your gun at his head. I shall never forget how his blackeyes glittered as he looked at you on leaving. It was as if he wantedto remember you for years to come."
"Listen! some one is calling!" exclaimed Sandy just then.
"It is old Reuben Jacks, and he has made some sort of discovery; orelse he would not lift his cracked voice in that shrill way. Come,Sandy, let us run thither, and see what it may be."
The two boys, both of whom were now carrying their guns, even thoughbut partly dressed, made a dash toward the spot where the shouts wentup. They overtook several others; and in another minute quite a grouphad gathered around the figure of the gaunt old woodranger.
"What is it, Reuben; what have you found to give tongue that way?"demanded Anthony Brady, with authority in his heavy voice.
"Look, neighbors!" said the other, pointing down toward his feet.
"Footprints leading away from the cabin!" exclaimed one.
"And made by an Injun, too, for the toes turn in!" came from another.
"Reuben, you have made a valuable discovery," Brady remarked, after hehad himself bent over to examine the footprints in the soft soil, whichthe keen and practised eye of the old man had detected. "An Indian hasbeen here after night set in; for you all remember there was just alittle rainfall at dark, and this trail has been made fresh since then."
"It is the track of the burner! Let us follow it, and punish the handthat held the torch!" cried an excitable young man, waving his gunabove his head.
Bob and Sandy exchanged a quick glance; and the latter seemed to ask aquestion of his brother, since Bob quickly remarked:
"No, this does not prove that we were wrong; for Lacroix may have beenin league with the Indians; and he could easily engage one of the redmen to come here to do his work for him. It may be that the torch of aPottawottomi or a Shawanee set fire to our cabin; but, Sandy, the handof a Frenchman was back of it!"
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With Reuben in the van, half a dozen of the men started followingthe fresh trail. They could have but little hope of coming upon theculprit, unless the Indian might have hidden near by, wishing to enjoythe confusion and wild alarm his wanton act had caused; but, sincethey were so aroused, it might be just as well to scour the immediateneighborhood in order to give vent to some of their enthusiasm.
A few of the settlers had gone home. They could not tell what thismidnight burning might signify. Perhaps other incendiaries were abroad,and at any moment another fire would call for attention.
Every man was keyed up to a pitch where it would have gone hard withany Indian or half-breed falling into his clutches just then. Theentire settlement was astir. Women had armed themselves, not knowingbut that a general attack might be forthcoming. And the wives anddaughters of these early Ohio pioneers were well fitted to be themates of the bold spirits that braved the unknown perils of the greatwilderness. Many of them could handle a gun almost as well as the men.
The tracking party had now entered the dense woods. They had beenwarned by the older and more cautious members of the community to becareful lest they fall into some cunning ambush. That plain trail mayhave been left purposely in order to excite their anger, and bringthem under the guns of concealed enemies, who would shoot them downwithout mercy.
This was Indian nature. Treachery went hand-in-hand with the wartactics of the red men. They thought it no wrong to lure their foesinto a trap, and then slaughter them as wolves might be cut down.Pontiac himself had shown how exceedingly clever and crafty a warfarecould be exercised against the white man.
At the important trading post of Michilimackinac hundreds of hisIndians, mostly Sacs and Chippewas, had been loitering around the fortfor days. On the king's birthday they had proceeded to celebrate by agreat game of ball.
The sport had been carried on with all the customary noise andconfusion; and the unsuspicious garrison allowed the players to rushwithin the stockade when the ball, seemingly by accident, was knockedover the high palisade.
Under their blankets many of the Indians carried muskets, with thebarrels sawed off short; while all had their tomahawks and knives. Ata given signal they fell upon the garrison, and, although a terriblefight ensued, the surprise was complete, so that a massacre hadfollowed.
Nine other trading posts had fallen in much the same way, and the mostimportant of all, Detroit, had a close call, when the sachem Pontiaclaid siege with his allied tribes.
Although time had passed since these exciting days, the wily chieftainstill lived to plot new schemes for the destruction of the encroachingwhites. And never was his dreaded name mentioned in a weak bordersettlement without a shudder.
This was why the older men had warned the more hotheaded to be carefullest they run into an ambuscade; for it was a favorite trick among theIndians to lure rash settlers away from the shelter of their stockadeby some such stratagem, and then fall upon them in overpowering numbers.
Clouds hid the moon from sight, but, only for dense foliage of theforest trees, the night would hardly be called dark. There were justseven in the band that pushed through the woods, following that trail.Old Reuben, at the head, held his blazing and smoking pine torchlow, so that his eagle eyes might keep track of the imprint of thosemoccasins that toed-in. Behind him came the others, with guns readyfor immediate use, and eyes trying to pierce the gloom that loomed upahead like a black wall.
No doubt after a time, when they had cooled down somewhat, a moresensible view of the situation would come over these eager trailers.Finding that the Indian had headed straight away from the settlement,they must realize the folly of trying to follow him further in theperilous night time, and retrace their steps back home.
Once they heard a crash, as some frightened wild animal flounderedthrough the bushes ahead. It must have been a prowling bear, for noother creature would make so great a noise. Again their alert ears,that could pick up the faintest sounds, caught the snort of a deer thatmay have been viewing the advance of these strange fireflies throughthe woods until they came too near for comfort, and then fled swiftlywith tremendous bounds.
Each time the men had gripped their guns, thinking that something wasabout to occur; but only once more to relax the nervous strain.
"I surely saw something move ahead, Bob!" exclaimed Sandy, who wasalongside his brother in the forward movement.
"Where?" asked the other, quickly; while the nearest neighbor cockedhis head to listen, half raising his musket menacingly.
"Over there where that tree hangs down across the way," replied Sandy,pointing with his gun.
"Well, we must soon know whether it means anything," replied Bob, "forwe are headed that way right now."
"Look! look! it must be a man; and he is waving a white flag to us! Hedoes not want us to fire upon him at sight!" cried Sandy, a few secondslater.
"Yes, you are right," declared his brother.
Of course the attention of all the members of the tracking party hadnow been attracted toward the moving object, which every one could seewas a piece of white cloth being waved up and down. They changed theircourse just a little, and headed in a bunch for the spot.
"Be careful, lads!" said old Reuben. "Nobody kin tell what the slycritters may be up to. Keep yer hands on yer triggers, but don't shoottill I give the word. Unless I'm mightily mistaken, that arm is anInjun's. Spread out a leetle, lads. He wants us to get closer still,afore he gives over wavin' that rag. Thar! he's dropped the thing!Easy now, and wait! Ha!"
As the old woodranger gave vent to this last exclamation, the unseenparty who had been signalling to them from behind the big oak, suddenlystepped into view, holding both hands above his head in token of amity.
Both Bob and Sandy uttered cries of astonishment.
"Why," cried the latter, "see Bob, it's our friend, Blue Jacket!"
The Pioneer Boys on the Great Lakes; or, On the Trail of the Iroquois Page 12