Marching on Niagara: or, The Soldier Boys of the Old Frontier
The redman did not relax his hold even when both had been under the surface for some time. To him it was a struggle to the death, and he cared not how the grim terror might come, so long as the hated white person should go down with him.
But Dave, much younger, and with the hope of youth in his veins, did not intend to give up thus easily. As the waters of the river closed over him the idea of further battle with his opponent ended, and his one thought was now of how to save himself from drowning. He had been warned of the stream's treachery, and he knew that to keep from perishing would be no easy task.
With all the strength he could command he essayed to push the Indian away from him. But the warrior clung closer, for he could not swim and knew he could gain nothing by being left to himself. Thus the pair continued to struggle, and in the meanwhile the current carried them further and further away from the spot where the unfortunate tumble had occurred.
"I must get loose somehow!" thought the youth. "If only I could break that hold on my throat!" But the hold was like that of a steel band, and instead of loosening it seemed to grow tighter, until poor Dave's head began to swim and he gave himself up for lost. He drew up his knee and forced it against the Indian's breast, but still his endeavors had no effect. And now the water began to enter his mouth and nose and he felt himself growing unconscious. A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind – of Henry and Sam, and of his father and the other dear ones left behind. Was this to be the end of all – this drowning in the grasp of a hideously painted Indian?
Suddenly came an awful shock which threw Dave heels over head in the swirling waters. In their rapid passage down the stream, the Indian's head had struck fairly and squarely on a jagged rock just below the surface. The fearful impact of the blow had crushed in the warrior's skull like an egg-shell, and instantly his hold relaxed, and in a moment more the body passed from sight.
The shock threw Dave on another rock, rising less than a foot above the surface of the stream. Amid the foam and spray he felt the edge of the stone and by instinct more than reason he clutched at it wildly and held fast. Then, as he recovered his breath, he drew himself up until his head and his back were out of the water. His feet swung around with the current and there he remained, with the water tugging strongly to drag him down from his temporary place of safety.
He was in this position when discovered by the sharp eyes of Henry and Sam Barringford, and with all possible speed they ran down to the bit of shore which stuck out to within thirty feet of Dave's resting place.
"Dave! Dave!" called Henry. "Are you all right?"
"Henry! Help me! I – I can't stand th – this strain much longer," was the answer, delivered with a jerk and a gasp.
"We'll have to git a rope," came from Barringford. He raised his voice. "Hold tight, Dave, and we'll save you!"
He was off on the run then and Henry heard him crashing along the trail of the portage. Dave could hear but little save the pounding and rushing of the river torrent on all sides. He looked toward his cousin through the flying spray and the appeal went straight to Henry's heart.
The young soldier looked around. Not far away grew a number of saplings. He leaped toward the nearest, and with his hunting knife commenced to hack it down. The task was almost completed when Barringford reappeared.
"Thought I knowed whar I could git a rope," said the backwoodsman, as he held up the article. "Seen a dead Frencher with it a spell back. Going to git a tree, eh? Perhaps we'll need thet too. Let's try the rope fust."
He made a noose, and flung it forth with care. It slid close to where Dave lay, but the youth failed to grasp it. Then the rope was flung a second and a third time.
At last Dave caught the noose, and managed, although not without great difficulty, to slide it up his left arm above the elbow. This would leave his hands free to battle with any obstruction which might threaten him in the dangerous passage from the rock to the shore.
"Are you ready to be pulled in?" queried Barringford.
"Yes, but be careful. There's a sharp rock just below this point. I just caught sight of it," answered Dave.
"We'll pull you up stream – if we can," answered the backwoodsman.
In another moment Dave was again in the mad current. Planting their feet firmly between cracks in the rocks on shore, Henry and Barringford pulled in as quickly as possible.
As all had supposed, the current swung Dave down the stream and then flung him up along the rocks lining the bank. Still holding the rope Barringford told Henry to run down and help his cousin out of the water, and this the young soldier did.
Poor Dave was more dead than alive, and for a good half hour felt too weak to move from the river bank. While he was resting, with the others beside him, a small detachment of the English grenadiers came up.
"The battle is over," said one of them, in answer to Barringford's question on that point. "We've whipped 'em finely, and it's doubtful if they ever come back to try it over again."
"If that's the fact, then it means the fall of Fort Niagara," put in Henry. "The commander there has undoubtedly been waiting for reinforcements."
"Well, we're here to make the fort surrender," answered the soldier from England.
The soldiers had some rations with them, including some coffee, and after Barringford had started a fire whereat Dave might dry himself, the youth was given something hot to drink, which did much to revive him.
What Henry had said about the fall of the fort was true. That very evening General Johnson sent a Major Harvey to the commander of the fort, with news of the defeat at the falls and stating that the fort had better surrender at once, otherwise the Indians friendly to the English might take it into their heads to massacre all the French prisoners.
At first Captain Pouchot could not believe that the disaster to the French cause had been so great, and to convince him he was allowed to send an aide into the British camp. The aide reported that the contest was indeed lost, and thereupon, early on the following morning, Fort Niagara surrendered, and six hundred and eighteen officers and men became English prisoners. Later on, the majority of the prisoners were sent to England while the women and the children who had been driven to the fort for protection were, at their own request, allowed to depart for Montreal.
The fall of Fort Niagara accomplished all that the English government and the colonists had hoped for. It broke the chain of defenses the French had established between the lakes and the lower Mississippi, and closely following this disaster the enemy were compelled to vacate Venango, Presqu'île, La Bœuf, and other points, including the trading posts on the Ohio and the Kinotah. They retired to Detroit, and to the upper bank of the St. Lawrence, and the English and colonists quickly took possession of the places vacated.
It was not deemed necessary that Dave and his friends return to the vicinity of the fort the next day, and they and a party of rangers numbering eighteen encamped along the bank of the Niagara. Two of the rangers were suffering from wounds in the shoulders, and they and Dave were made as comfortable as possible, so that by the next night the young soldier felt once more like himself.
"But I never want to tumble into that river again," he said to Henry with a shudder. "I felt as if every minute was going to be my last."
"Yes, you were lucky though," answered his cousin. "Think of what that redskin got. It might have been your head instead of his."
"I've seen that Indian before, Henry. I can't tell where, exactly, but I think it was out at father's trading post."
"That's not unlikely. I suppose all those rascally French Indians came on with the French soldiers and traders to wipe us out. Well, they got what they least expected."
While the majority of the rangers were resting several of the number went off in search of game, for provisions were now running low. The most of the birds and wild animals had been scared away by the noise of battle, and the hunters had to beat about for several miles before they found what they wanted.
On the return to the camp beside the river they heard a man calling feebly in French, and moving toward the sound, discovered a French trader lying in some brushwood, covered with blood and dirt, the picture of weakness and despair. The trader had been shot in the leg and could not walk and was suffering for the want of food and water as well as attention to his wound.
"For ze love of heaven, do not leave me here," he begged, piteously. "Help me, kind sirs, and I vill revard you vell."
The trader was evidently a rough sort of a man, yet the rangers took pity on him, even though he did belong to the ranks of the enemy. Food and drink were furnished, and the wound washed and bound up, and then the rangers carried the prisoner with them to the camp.
Dave and Barringford saw the rangers returning, and at the sight of the prisoner Barringford leaped to his feet in high excitement.
"Jean Bevoir!" he exclaimed. "Jean Bevoir, jest as sure as fate!"
"Bevoir!" ejaculated Dave.
"Bevoir?" repeated Henry, who stood near. "Do you mean to say that fellow is Bevoir?"
"It is!" answered Barringford. "He's wounded, too."
Without waiting to hear more, Henry, followed by Dave, ran forward to where the prisoner had been placed on a moss-grown bank.
"You are Jean Bevoir," he began, sternly.
"Ah! you know me, eh?" returned the French trader. "I do not seem to know you?" and a puzzled look crossed his face.
"Then I'll tell you who I am!" roared Henry, clenching his fists. "I am Henry Morris, of Will's Creek. This is my cousin Dave Morris. You helped to steal my little sister Nell. Where is she? Tell me this minute!"
As Henry finished he advanced, as if to strike the prisoner down where he sat. Jean Bevoir grew pale and trembled with fear.
"No! no! do not heet me!" he cried. "I no do zat. Eet ees von mistake! I no see ze gal! I – "
"Don't talk that way to me!" interrupted Henry, whose blood was thoroughly aroused. "You'll tell me where she is, and at once, or I'll – I'll – " he hesitated and looked around, and then caught up a gun standing near. "I'll blow your head off, that's what I'll do!"
It is doubtful whether Henry would have carried out his threat, but his manner was so earnest that for once Jean Bevoir, wounded as he was, was well-nigh scared to death. He put up his hands beseechingly. Then he looked at the rangers gathered around; but no one stepped to his aid, for all had heard of his doings, and of how little Nell and the Rose twins had been carried off into captivity by the Indians and of how Bevoir had plotted to hold them for a ransom. Many looked at him as little short of a brigand, or pirate, and would not have been sorry had his miserable existence been ended then and there.
"No! no!" cried the trader and clasped his hands tremblingly before him. "No shoot, please you!"
"Then tell me where my little sister is!"
"I – I know not zat – now. I – I – the Indians da run away, an – "
Bevoir broke off short. The gun had been lowered, but now it was once more brought up and the muzzle touched his forehead. He gave a yell of terror and rolled backward.
"Stop! No shoot me! I will tell you all!" he screamed. "No shoot! De gal she in von cave up de river, near de falls. Da Indians bring her dare. No shoot! I show da place. No shoot!"
"In a cave near the falls?" queried Henry.
"Yees, yees! Not far from here. She dare now, if not runned avay. I show, you no shoot me!"
"Then show the way," commanded Henry. "And remember, if you are telling a lie, it will go hard with you."
CHAPTER XXXII
LITTLE NELL – CONCLUSION
Jean Bevoir was now thoroughly cowed, and once having exposed himself he did all in his power to curry favor with those he had so deeply wronged, in the hope that they would relent in their treatment of him and perhaps grant him his ultimate liberty. But neither Henry nor the others would make him any promises, for nobody had any intention of letting him go free.
"He deserves to become a prisoner," said Dave. "And he ought to be put in solitary confinement and on bread and water."
"Right ye are, lad," said Barringford. "He's wuss nor a snake in the grass. I don't wonder Henry felt like pepperin' him on the spot."
It was well along in the middle of the afternoon and the rangers who had been out on the hunt were thoroughly tired, yet it was arranged that those who had remained in camp should move to the cave near the falls without delay, after getting minute directions from Jean Bevoir, so that there should be no chance of making a mistake in the route. A strict guard was ordered over the trader and he was given to understand that if anything went wrong with those who set out on the search for little Nell and the others the blame would fall upon him.
It must be said that the hearts of both Henry and Dave beat rapidly as they pushed along the trail leading towards the falls. Henry, as we know, loved his little sister dearly, and Dave's affection for his little cousin was scarcely less strong. Throughout the whole campaign there had not been a day when they had not thought of her and of what she must be suffering.
Barringford led the advance, having questioned Bevoir so closely that he said he felt he could find the cave in the dark. As the party moved on, all kept their eyes and ears wide open for a possible surprise by the enemy.
But as we already know, French and Indians had fled in the direction of their boats beyond the upper rapids, and the only persons met with were half a dozen braves under White Buffalo, who were out doing spy duty for General Johnson.
"Heap glad to see Dave well," said White Buffalo, when they met. "Hear Dave go into rushing waters. Glad Dave get out."
"So am I glad, White Buffalo. And how did you make out in the battle?"
For answer the chief pointed to his girdle, at which hung two freshly taken Indian scalps. Then he pointed to the girdles of his followers, all similarly adorned. Dave nodded to show that he understood.
In these days such a showing would make one shiver, but in colonial times the taking of scalps by the Indians was such a common occurrence that it occasioned little or no comment, especially when practiced on an enemy of the same color. A few of the French soldiers had been scalped, but not many, since General Johnson had given strict orders that no mutilation of the whites would be allowed. On the other hand, the French Indians engaged in the battle had committed all the atrocities possible before retreating to the upper river and the woods.
Learning what was taking place, White Buffalo asked the privilege of joining the party with one of his braves, and this was readily granted. On they went again, through the thick undergrowth and around the rough rocks, for in those days where the town of Niagara Falls now stands was little short of a complete wilderness.
At length White Buffalo called a halt and pointed to the ground. Barringford had been watching the trail intently.
"Fresh footprints, eh, White Buffalo?" queried the frontiersman.
"Indians close by," answered the chief, gravely. "No friends to the English."
"Then we'll go slow."
The Indian grunted, and the word was passed for every soldier to be on his guard. Barringford now calculated that they were less than quarter of a mile away from where Jean Bevoir had said the cave was situated.
Suddenly a shot rang out and this was followed by the whizzing of an arrow over Barringford's head. One of the rangers had been struck in the shoulder, although the wound was but a trifle.
"This way," shouted Barringford, who had been chosen as the leader, and all followed him to a thicket. In another moment they had caught sight of several Indians and two French traders hurrying along a trail leading to the river bank above the falls.
"Look! look!" cried Dave, suddenly. "There is little Nell now! An Indian has her in his arms!"
He was right, and soon they saw two other Indians who were carrying the Rose twins. The dusky trio appeared but for a moment, then slipped out of sight in the timber.
With a yell to the others to follow, Dave darted after the redman who held little Nell, and Henry, Barringford and White Buffalo came close behind him. On they went through thickets which almost tore the clothing from their bodies and over rough rocks. The Indians seemed to know the way and kept a good distance ahead despite their burdens.
But now those in front had to cross a little opening, and while doing this Barringford and White Buffalo fired on them, bringing two of the number down. They were the Indians holding the Rose twins and in a few minutes more the twins, who were sobbing in fright, were safe in the rangers' care.
The Indian holding little Nell now bounded on with increased speed, making directly for the bluff overlooking the mighty falls. He knew of the opening under the falls and hoped by some chance to throw his pursuers off the scent and gain this hiding-place.
But those in pursuit were too clever for him, and in perplexity he turned, like a hunted hare, and started out on the bluff. Then, as he came again into the open, he swung little Nell to his back and held her there.
"He is making for the falls!" screamed Henry.
"What! do you think he means to jump over?" questioned Dave, in fresh horror.
"It looks like it. I reckon he's afraid if he's captured that we'll torture him."
This was probably the truth, and having glanced back once, to see if they were still pursuing him, the Indian kept on, until he was less than fifty feet away from the brink of the cataract.
"Oh, Dave – shall we – we shoot?" faltered Henry.
"We must!" was the quick answer. "It's our one chance to save Nell!"
Up came his gun, and up also came the weapons of Henry and several others of the party. Four reports rang out almost as one. The Indian staggered a dozen steps and pitched headlong, carrying little Nell down with him. Both lay perfectly still close to the brink of the cataract.
For the moment neither Henry nor Dave dared to go forward. Supposing one of those four bullets had found little Nell's body instead of that of the Indian?
It was Barringford who advanced, with several of the rangers. A glance showed him that the Indian was dead, with two bullets through the lower portion of his back. Little Nell lay beside the fallen Indian, unconscious and with the blood flowing from a scratch on her right lower limb. She was only stunned by the shock and as Barringford picked her up she opened her eyes wildly.
"Let me go! Please let me go!" she screamed, and then, on catching sight of her preserver, stared in astonishment. "Oh, Mr. Barringford, is it really you? Oh, I'm so glad! Save me from the naughty Indian."
"The Injun is dead, Nell," he answered, and then as Henry and Dave rushed up, he added, "You are safe enough now."
Henry caught his little sister in his arms and both hugged each other tightly. The young soldier was too overcome to say a word, nor could Dave speak as he embraced his cousin. It was truly a happy moment.
In a little while the other rangers came up with the Rose twins, who were as delighted as little Nell to find themselves among friends once more. In the mean time the other unfriendly Indians and the French traders disappeared, and although White Buffalo and some of the rangers went after them, they could not be captured.
That evening, seated around a generous camp-fire, and after the best supper they had enjoyed for many a day, little Nell and her companions told the tale of their captivity, – how the Indians had at first carried them off, how they had been moved from one spot to another, and of how Jean Bevoir had finally taken charge of them. The little girls were too young to understand how the rascally trader had hoped to make money by having them ransomed, but the boys and the other soldiers understood, and they made up their minds that Bevoir should not escape them and that the whole matter should be laid before the proper authorities at the earliest possible date.
"But I am so glad to be with you again!" murmured little Nell, as she nestled down between Henry and Dave. "I hope the bad Indians never carry me off again!"
"They shall never do it if I can help it," answered Henry; and Dave echoed the sentiment.
Let me add a few words more and then bring to a close this story of two young soldiers' adventures while "Marching on Niagara."
On the day following the rescue of little Nell and the Rose twins all our friends took themselves to Fort Niagara, which was now occupied by French and English combined. With the party went Jean Bevoir, a thoroughly miserable prisoner of war. The trader begged hard to be given his freedom and offered all sorts of inducements to those having him in charge, but nobody would listen to him, and one ranger threatened to thrash him if he ever mentioned a bribe again. At the fort the matter was laid before Sir William Johnson, and Bevoir was placed under guard in the military hospital; and that was the last seen or heard from him for some time to come.
Little Nell was very anxious to get back home, to see her father and mother, as well as Rodney and her Uncle James, and it was finally decided that she should be sent back, along with the Rose twins and a number of other captives who had turned up. The party was placed in charge of a company of rangers including Hans Schnitzer, who in the siege of the fort had lost an ear, and of Barringford, who had given his word to Joseph Morris that if he found little Nell he would not leave her out of his sight until the miss was once again with her parents.
"But what will you boys do?" questioned the backwoodsman of Dave and Henry.
"We have decided to remain in the army and see this war to a finish," said Dave. "We've got the French and their Indian allies on the run, as they call it, and both of us feel that it's our duty to remain at the front."
"That feelin' does ye both credit," was Barringford's answer. "Well, I reckon you'll git fighting enough before you're done. If it keeps on very much longer I allow as how I'll be back with ye sooner or later." What Barringford said about getting fighting enough was true, and the further adventures of our young friends will be related in another volume, to be entitled "At the Fall of Montreal; Or, A Soldier Boy's Final Victory." In this volume we shall meet all our old friends again and learn what they did toward establishing a lasting victory over France in Canada.
It was not long after the taking of Fort Niagara that the boys received good news from home. Matters were going well with all those left behind, and they were delighted to learn that little Nell was safe and would soon be with them. Dave's father was likewise delighted to learn that Jean Bevoir was a prisoner and that the French hold on the Ohio River and its tributaries was broken. He felt certain that the French traders and the Indians under them would never regain that which had been lost, and that in another season at the latest he would be perfectly safe in re-establishing his trading post on the Kinotah, and that by that time matters would be in proper shape for doing more trading than ever before.
"I hope what he says proves true," said Dave, as he and Henry read the letter on the subject. "I think we deserve whatever we can get out of that trading-post, seeing how hard we have worked to gain possession of our own."
"I am glad matters are going on so well at home," returned Henry. "My, but won't mother be glad to see Nell again! They'll hug each other to death." And he wiped something like a tear from his eye as he pictured the scene in his mind.
In the darkness of the evening Dave's hand stole into that of his cousin. "I am just as glad over it all as you, Henry," he said softly. And then after a short silence he added: "There is no disputing it. God has been very good to us; don't you think so?"
For answer Henry gave his hand a tight squeeze. "We can be thankful we're alive, considering what we've gone through with. War is no holiday making."
"You're right it's not. But I'm glad I'm a soldier anyway – and I mean to do my duty to the end, no matter what comes."
