CHAPTER XXVIII
WHEN ALL SEEMED LOST
SANDY ARMSTRONG was an impulsive boy, as has been shown more than oncein these pages.
He often acted on a sudden inspiration, and without weighing mattersover in his mind. This disposition to do things on the spur of themoment was a part of his nature, and did not spring from the mere factthat he was a lad; for his brother Bob had no such failing.
Kenton had seen it in Sandy, and it aroused a fellow-feeling in thebreast of the famous borderer for the young pioneer, because he himselfhad many times been taken to task by Daniel Boone for showing the sameweakness.
Sandy only saw that a scoundrel was creeping up behind a brave manwith the intention of doing him a deadly injury. Little he consideredthat Pontiac towered head and shoulders above every Indian foe thestruggling settlers in the wilderness might ever know, and that hisuntimely death would really be a blessing to the entire white race.
Horror filled his young soul at the dastardly nature of the revengefulLarue's intentions. The pondering sachem was utterly ignorant of thepresence of an enemy, as he sat there on that log, waiting for thereturn of the Seneca chief. Even then the French trapper was toweringover the bent figure, his hands grasping that club, as he summoned allhis strength for the blow, meaning to make short work of his enemy.
The public insult which Pontiac had put upon him doubtless rankled inthe heart of the Frenchman. Making his escape from the cavern, wherehe had been left apparently securely tied hand and foot, he must haveheaded for the Indian village in order to betray the plans of theinvaders. Then, suddenly discovering the great leader of the tribesseated there alone, an overmastering desire for revenge took completepossession of him.
Bob was himself almost frozen with horror as he saw the drama that wasbeing played there before his eyes. He wanted to shout out, and atleast warn Pontiac, so that the chief might have a chance for his life;but somehow it seemed as though his tongue clove to the roof of hismouth.
Then came a loud report. It was so close to his ear that it almostdeafened Bob; but he was conscious of the fact that his brother musthave fired the shot.
Sandy had indeed fired, just as he saw the burly Frenchman about tobring down his club on the unprotected head of the sachem.
As we know, the boy of the Ohio river cabin was a splendid shot withthat old musket which he carried; but even at such a time he could notfind it in his heart to attempt the life of a white man, however muchLarue merited such a fate. Consequently he endeavored to prevent theFrenchman's crime by sending a bullet through his uplifted arm.
Instantly all was confusion. It was as though that crash of a gunsounded the signal for an immediate upheaval. Larue's arm fell to hisside as, in a panic, he dropped the club, and tried to turn for flight.Pontiac was already on his feet, and, grasping the situation, a yellpealed from his lips as he flung himself boldly upon the back of theFrench trapper, bearing him to the ground, where they struggled like acouple of angry wolverines.
Scores of braves dashed wildly from their lodges, some calling, othersanswering, and all running hither and thither like a pack of houndssearching for a lost trail.
Bob was dazed by what had happened. He realized that probably it meantthe complete blocking of the bright plans which their friend, SimonKenton, had arranged for the rescue of little Kate.
Had Sandy been to blame? Should the reckless boy have restrained hisimpulse to shoot down the wretch who would slay the great Indian leaderin cold blood?
It was no time to ask such questions. They were themselves in greatdanger. The warriors were constantly widening their circles as theyran, and at any moment one of them might discover the crouching figuresof the young pioneers in the grass and weeds.
"Back out, Sandy! Quick, or all is lost!" Bob managed to whisperhoarsely in the ear of his comrade.
Doubtless Sandy realized how his act was likely to result. Had he beencontent to allow matters to take their course Pontiac would ere nowhave been hurried on his way to the Happy Hunting Grounds of the redmen; and all this confusion avoided.
It was too late for vain regrets. The thing was done, and all thatremained for them now was to try to escape. If they could manage to getoff undiscovered they might effect a reunion with the others, and hidein the forest, waiting for another opportunity to come.
So they started to push backward, hoping that fortune might be kindenough to allow them to reach the thick timber, where it would be easyto glide away unseen by the keen eyes of the red searchers.
Around Pontiac a dozen warriors had clustered. They seemed tounderstand that a desperate effort had been made to kill the greatsachem, whose words had so recently thrilled them in the grand council;for all accounts agree in saying that no Indian ever spoke as did thisgifted orator, Pontiac.
Larue was struggling in the hands of several furious braves. They wouldhave made short work of the treacherous Frenchman only that the voiceof Pontiac himself prevented his summary execution.
"Lay no hand on him in anger, warriors!" he called out. "Let him betaken to the strong lodge and there kept fast until your chief candecide his fate. It is the will of Pontiac; let none refuse to obey!"
After that no one dared strike the prisoner, who was dragged awayshrieking, and wildly defying the man he hated.
All this excitement was in the favor of the two boys. It gave them abetter opportunity to push further away from the dangerous vicinity ofthe log upon which the visiting sachem had been seated when so rudelydisturbed by that shot. And it goes without saying that both ladswasted not a second of time in trying to gain the shelter of the woods.
They knew that Kenton must have been discouraged in his plans by thisunexpected happening, because there came no sudden alarm of fire,though the wind was already strong enough to have answered his purpose.Perhaps he fancied that, through some unfortunate freak of fate, Boband his brother had fallen into the power of the Indians; that heavygunshot would seem to indicate as much, since few among the Senecascarried firearms.
While all these things had happened very rapidly, and it could nothave been more than three minutes since Sandy fired; still, the timeseemed tenfold as long to the retreating boys. Finally they reached theshelter of the heavier timber, and breathed a sigh of relief.
In those early days the settlers had a saying to the effect that "awhite man should not shout until he was out of the woods, nor anIndian until he had gained their shelter." When Bob and his brotherexperienced a sense of safety after finally reaching the timber, theycounted without their host.
Flitting figures were around them, though they knew it not, some of theIndians having hastened away at the first alarm, under the impressionthat it meant an attack on the part of the whites.
These braves flattened themselves against the earth, and lay like logsuntil the boys, straightening up, started to glide away. Then therewas a whoop, a sudden springing into life of the dusky figures, and,before either Bob or Sandy could make a single effort at self-defence,they were borne down under the weight of their enemies, who were notdeceived by the paint with which they had covered their faces.
With hearts as heavy as lead the brave boys were conducted into thevillage, now a seething volcano. Word had gone around of the baseattempt on the life of the sachem who had long been the idol of so manytribes; and looked upon as the leader sent by the great Manitou todrive the rash white men back into the sea whence they came.
Every minute the indignation increased. They saw in the act a dark plotto cut them off from the leadership of the only general who had everbeen able to make an alliance between a dozen tribes, and unite themagainst the common enemy.
The open space which, but a few minutes before, had been entirelyvacant, save for the presence of Pontiac and Kiashuta, was now aseething sea of jostling braves, waving their hatchets and knives, anddemanding summary vengeance on the treacherous snakes who had crawledinto their midst with such base designs in their hearts.
Sandy shrank back, appalled at the terr
ible sight. Bob bore himself alittle more bravely, though his heart, too, was cold with dread.
"Bob, forgive me!" cried Sandy, filled with remorse because againhad his hasty action brought them to the verge of disaster. "I was afool to do what I did; but I did not stop to think. I only saw thatscoundrel about to kill a defenceless man, and something urged me toprevent the murder. I deserve all that is coming to me. If only youcould be spared I wouldn't complain."
"Stop that sort of talk, Sandy," answered the other, hoarsely. "I amnot worrying over what will happen to me. All I regret is that now Katewill not have any chance to escape. And poor mother will be heartbrokenbecause all of her children have been taken from her."
"Oh! fool! fool that I was!" moaned Sandy, bitterly. "Father alwayswarned me that some day my hasty nature would play me an ill turn. Whatdo you suppose they will do with us now? Some of these braves look sougly that I do not think we will ever live to see the sun rise again."
"Wait," said Bob, with a trace of encouragement in his voice; butwhether he only spoke in this manner to comfort his younger brother, orbecause he really saw a sudden gleam of hope, Sandy could not guess.
When Bob uttered this one word his eyes were fastened upon the face ofPontiac, who was thoughtfully surveying the prisoners. And perhaps itwas something he saw in the countenance of the renowned sachem thatencouraged the boy.
Threatening braves pushed around them; tomahawks were waving in theair above their heads; and awful shouts sounded in their ears.
Sandy closed his eyes, as though unable to face the doom which hefeared was so close. Doubtless in that moment of suspense his mind flewto that dear cabin far away, where he knew his mother must be waitingevery day for the safe return of her children, and praying that theymight be spared to her.
A groan burst from his lips; but it did not spring from fear of thefate that hung over his own head.
"Kate! Mother! Oh! Heaven help them!" Sandy said, again and again.
Still Bob watched the great leader. He seemed to divine that, if helpcame at all to himself and his brother, it must spring from Pontiacalone. And when he saw the chief suddenly push forward toward thestruggling group, where the excited braves were jostling each otherabout, each anxious to have the glory of finishing the young captives,he had faith to believe that all was not yet over.
Now the voice of Pontiac was heard again, and as before commanding thatnone dare to injure the prisoners until permission were given.
He stood in front of them now, so close that, had Bob been free touse his arms, and dared, he might have put out a hand and touched theperson of the sachem. Long and earnestly did Pontiac look them over.Wonder marked his face when he saw that they were but half-grown lads,striplings who had better have been safe in their cabin far away,rather than here in a hostile land, with a thousand mortal foes aroundthem.
Then Pontiac turned to the heaving crowd of painted warriors, withevery wild eye fastened upon his face.
"These paleface boys carry no arms," he said. "Some warrior has the gunof each. Let them bring to me the shooting sticks, that I may examinethem!"
And, as he heard these words, somehow the heart of Bob gave a leap forjoy.
The Pioneer Boys on the Great Lakes; or, On the Trail of the Iroquois Page 31