Marching on Niagara: or, The Soldier Boys of the Old Frontier

"Ain't no b'ar there, I'm putty sure on it. But we can stop an' see – jest out o' curiosity sake."

They did not rest long, for they were anxious to join General Johnson at as early a date as possible, and knew that it would take them at least two weeks to make the trip. They were on rising ground, but soon they struck a downward path, filled with rough rocks and loose stones, where the footing was far from certain.

"The cave is over yonder," said Barringford, pointing with his hand. "The opening to it is on the other side. Come, I'll show ye the way. And have your guns ready – in case a b'ar should turn up."

After this no more was said, and they went forward, side by side – so that no one might hinder the aim of a companion. There was a slight undergrowth between the rocks but for the most part only tall trees, bare for a distance of thirty feet upward, marked the locality.

Suddenly Barringford put up his hand, to warn his companions. All came to a halt and listened, at the same time straining their eyes to see what might be ahead. They heard a low thump, followed by another, and then all became as silent as before.

"What was it?" at last whispered Dave.

"Some wild animal," returned Barringford, in an equally low tone. "Don't reckon as how it was a b'ar though."

They waited a moment longer, and then the old hunter again led the advance. There were several large rocks to cross and then they rounded one end of the cave, which, on top, was shaped very much like a huge rocky egg.

"A deer!" ejaculated Henry. "Look out!"

All looked and saw a magnificent deer standing close to the mouth of the cave, gazing cautiously forward. Suddenly a fox leaped out of the opening and the deer started back in alarm.

Bang! It was the report of Barringford's rifle and the deer leaped high in the air, to fall dead immediately afterward.

"A good shot – " began Henry, when a noise behind him caused him to swing around swiftly. What he saw filled him with horror. A huge buck was glaring at him from the opposite end of the rocky eminence. In a second more the buck charged the crowd, rushing forward with lowered antlers and with the swiftness of the wind.

CHAPTER XXII

THE FIGHT WITH THE BUCK

"Look out!"

These were the only words Henry had time to utter and as they left his lips he leaped to one side as swiftly as possible.

Hardly knowing what Henry meant, Dave and Barringford stood their ground, looking first one way and then another.

On the instant the big buck came forward. His rush was aimed at Henry, but missing that youth, he went onward with a wild plunge, directly between Dave and Barringford.

"A buck!" yelled the frontiersman. "Back out, Dave, an' be quick about it!"

He himself started on a run, reloading his rifle as he went. Dave wanted to do as bidden, but he had been so surprised that before he could turn his heel caught on a rock and down he went flat on his back. His gun struck on the trigger and went off, the charge tearing over the top of the cave into the tree branches beyond.

Dave was now helpless and if the truth must be told the fall had more than half dazed him, for his head came down on a spot that was far from soft and comfortable. More than this, with an empty gun he could do but little to defend himself.

The big buck had now come to a halt and turned around. He stood as if uncertain whether to renew the attack or take to his heels. Then he gazed at his mate and a strange red light shone in his angry eyes. He was "blood struck," as old hunters call it, and drawing in a sharp, hissing breath, he leaped forward once again, straight for Dave, who was now trying to rise.

Bang! It was now Henry's gun that spoke up, and though the aim was not of the best – for Henry was excited because Dave was in such dire peril – the buck was struck in the shoulder and badly wounded. He leaped back and into the air, and when he came down lifted his right foreleg as if in intense pain. But he was still full of fight and now he came on once more, with eyes glittering more dangerously than ever.

Dave had not time to rise, so he did the next best thing, which was to roll over and over, until a clump of brush stopped his further progress. Then he slipped into the brush, worming his way to the other side.

The big buck came on and struck the brush a stunning blow that sent the stalks and twigs flying in all directions. Then the animal backed out and started for Henry, who had begun to reload.

All this had happened faster than I can relate it, yet it had given Barringford sufficient time to throw powder and ball into his gun and fix the priming. Now the old hunter came close to the side of the buck and blazed away once more, straight for those reddish eyes.

The shot was a telling one, for it tore out one eye completely and seriously damaged the other. Again the buck halted, and then turned slowly back and began to stagger off. But he could not see and in a moment more hit the rocks of the cave with a crash that could be heard for a considerable distance.

"Good for you, Sam!" cried Henry, who was now reloading. "I reckon we've got him."

"Don't be too sure," returned the old hunter. "He's got lots of fight in him yet."

Barringford was right, for again the buck turned and now catching a glimpse of Barringford through the blood of his wounds made a mighty leap for the frontiersman. But Barringford was too quick for him and leaping aside, sprang on the rocks of the cave, satisfied the wounded buck could not follow him to that spot.

By this time Henry had reloaded, and watching his chance he ran up and let drive for the buck's neck. This shot proved fatal, and rocking to and fro for several seconds the magnificent beast at last fell down on his side, and breathed his last.

"Is he – he dead?" came from Dave, as he pulled himself out of the tangle of brushwood.

"I think he is," replied his cousin. "But we had better make sure. Bucks are mighty tricky at times."

Taking out his hunting knife Henry went forward and cut the throat of the game. Then Barringford leaped from the rocks, and all went to inspect the buck.

"A regular monarch of the forest!" cried Dave, enthusiastically. "Don't know as I've ever seen a larger."

"Nor I," added Barringford. "An' he was a fighter, too, wasn't he?"

"We've got more deer meat now than we know what to do with," went on Dave.

"We don't want the meat of this buck," said Henry. "It would be as tough as all get-out. We can take the skin and some of the meat from that deer, and that will be enough; don't you say so, Sam?"

"Right you are, lad."

All were experienced in the work at hand, so it did not take them long to skin both beasts and then the best of the deer meat was cut out by Barringford and rolled up in one of the pelts.

After this the march forward was again resumed.

That night they slept in the open, near a generous camp-fire, without being disturbed, and by sunrise were again on their way. They reached Cherry Run – a collection of half a dozen cabins – a little after noon, and here exchanged the skins and some of the meat for other things of more importance to them.

"There is a Dutch hunter here, who is going to join General Johnson," said the pioneer who gave them other things for their skins. "His name is Hans Schnitzer. Perhaps he'd like to go along with you – if you want him."

"What, old Dutch Hans, the beaver hunter!" exclaimed Barringford. "Why certainly I'd like him along. Thar's more fun in him nor in a barrel o' wasps. Whar is he?"

"He vos right here," came a voice from behind Barringford, and a short, stout individual stepped forward. His hair was red and his shock of a beard bore the same color. Above two sunburnt cheeks peeped two small eyes of blue, ever on a twinkle. He was dressed in the typical suit of the frontiersman of that day, buckskin leggings, coonskin cap and all.

"So you dinks dare vos more fun py me as mit von parrel of vasps, hey?" went on the Dutch trapper. "Vell, how apout dot dime ven you vos going to git dot pird's nest in der hollow dree und you stick your hand py dat vasps' nest, hey? Vosn't dot funny, hey? Ha! ha! ha! I see dot yet – mit you dancing arount like you vos a sailor on a pipe-horn, eh?"

"Gosh! don't mention it, Hans," returned Barringford, ruefully. "I kin feel them pesky wasps yet, fer they war the biggest I ever ran across. But put it thar, old boy, I'm downright glad to see you – an' after all the fightin' we've been a-havin', too. I suppose ye broke loose, didn't ye?"

"Vell I dinks me so," said Hans Schnitzer. "I vos up py dot Mohawk Valley, und I got me into nine fights by von veek vonce, und fourteen fights after dot." He removed his cap. "See dot mark? Dot is vere two Injuns tried to kill me – von mit a tomahawk und der udder mit his shcalpin' knife – dinking I vos dead. But I vasn't dead. I chumped up und ve rasselled und rasselled, und I got dem poth down ven, vot you dinks? – Cheneral Johnson himself come up – und dot vos der last of dose Injuns putty quick I can tole you."

"Good for the general," said Barringford. Then turning, he introduced Dave and Henry, and a general conversation ensued. The boys liked Hans Schnitzer from the start, and having often heard of the comical Dutch trapper, soon felt at home with him. Schnitzer knew exactly where Sir William Johnson's camp was located, and promised to take the party there by the shortest and easiest trail.

The party of four left Cherry Run early the next morning, each in the best of spirits, Schnitzer gaily humming a song of the Fatherland. The trail led almost due north, until a small stream was reached. Here, in a convenient spot, the Dutch trapper had a canoe secreted. This they entered and followed the stream for a distance of thirty miles, when they again struck out on foot, this time over the hills leading into the beautiful Mohawk Valley.

Day after day passed without anything unusual happening. Game was to be had in plenty, and it often made Henry heart-sick to leave it behind without taking a shot.

"A regular Paradise!" he said. "When this war is over, how I would like to come up here and knock around for a few weeks. I reckon I could make it well worth while."

"You'll find game just as plentiful at father's post on the Kinotah," answered Dave. "If father can ever get the post back, you must make a trip out there with me."

Ever since leaving home Dave had wanted to see a bear, and one day, just before the sun was setting, his wish was gratified. But the game was too far away for shooting, and before they could get closer the bear took to his heels and went crashing out of sight in the brushwood.

"Never mind, lad, we'll go b'ar huntin' another day," said Barringford, consolingly. "Jest fer the present, we have other ground ter plough, as the sayin' goes."

At the end of ten days the journey began to grow tiresome to the boys, and they were glad when Schnitzer announced that another day would more than likely bring them in sight of General Johnson's camp.

That night they encamped on the bank of the Mohawk, in an ideal spot covered with brush and some timber. All were thoroughly tired, for the day's tramp had been a long one, and Dave and Henry were glad when preparations for supper were at an end and there was nothing more to do than to eat and go to sleep.

It had been a clear day, but with the coming of night, the sky had clouded over, showing that a storm was not far off, although neither Barringford nor Hans the trapper thought it would rain before morning.

"Put ven it does come, I dink me it vos come hardt," said Schnitzer. "Maype it vos rain for two or fife days, eh?"

"Oh, I hope it doesn't rain as long as that!" cried Dave. "Why, we'll be drowned out."

The wood was piled on the fire, and a little later all lay down to rest, and it did not take Henry and Dave long to reach the land of dreams. They lay on one side of the cheerful blaze while the two men lay on the other. The wind was blowing the smoke from the fire directly across the river, so this did not bother them.

Dave had been asleep three hours when he suddenly awoke and gave a cough. Thinking that he was in danger of being smothered by the smoke he sat up and gazed at the fire. The wind had shifted slightly, but not enough to do any harm.

"No use of waking up the others," he thought. "They need every bit of sleep they can get. That wood is about burnt out anyway, so there won't be much more smoke."

He was about to lie down again, when the snapping of some brushwood behind him caught his ear. Turning he caught sight of an Indian crouching in the bushes gazing at him. Then came a noise from another direction and four other redmen glided into view. All were armed with guns, and at once Dave realized that the camp was surrounded.

CHAPTER XXIII

UP THE MOHAWK VALLEY

"Henry! Sam! Schnitzer! Wake up! The camp is surrounded by Indians!"

Dave uttered the cry loudly, and on the instant Barringford leaped to his feet, reaching for his ever-ready gun as he did so. The Dutch trapper was also awake in short order, and Henry followed.

"Injuns?" queried Barringford. "Whar?"

"In those bushes, and behind yonder trees. What shall we do?"

Before the old frontiersman could answer that question, a voice came out of the darkness:

"Are the white men English?"

"Yes, we're English," answered Barringford.

"Then the redmen are glad to meet their brothers. The redmen were afraid the sleeping ones were French."

"Who are you?" asked Henry.

"Arrow Head, of the Miamis. We have joined the great English warrior Johnson, to fight the French. Let us be friends."

A few words more followed, and Barringford told the Indians to come forward. At this eight redmen advanced to the camp-fire, on which the boys threw some extra brushwood, so that they might see the new arrivals. The Indians had slung their weapons over their shoulders, as a sign of peace, and our friends did likewise.

Schnitzer had met Arrow Head before, and said he would vouch for it that the warrior was all right. From the under chief it was learned that General Johnson, with seven hundred Indians, had already marched to meet General Prideaux and that the camp of the army was some forty miles distant, up the river. Arrow Head had been left behind to "drum up" a few stragglers, but was now ready to go forward with the redmen under him.

"The war talk at Canajoharie castle was a great one," said the under warrior. "Your General Johnson has treated us like brothers, and we will fight for him to the bitter end. We have sung our war songs and put on our war paints, and no French soldiers shall stand up against us. Henceforth the English shall be our brothers for evermore."

"Yah, now you vos talkin' common sense," put in Schnitzer. "Ven you fight mid dem Frenchers you vos all fools – for dem Frenchers vill pe licked chust so sure as Henry Hudson discovered New York. I peen a Dutch prophet, und I know," and he said this so earnestly that Arrow Head was duly impressed. Schnitzer, who afterward made himself famous as a pioneer in Ohio, could do a few sleight of hand tricks, and because of these tricks many of the redmen considered him something of a wizard.

All rested until daybreak and then, after a hasty breakfast, in which the Indians joined the whites, the march forward was resumed. Soon it began to rain, but the drops did not come down heavily, and Barringford said the storm had shifted to the westward. In this he was right for by noon the sun was shining as brightly as ever.

As they trudged along, Dave and Henry questioned Arrow Head concerning the French Indians and their captives, and about Jean Bevoir. They could, however, get little satisfaction, excepting that Arrow Head had heard that all the captives had been removed to the shores of Lake Erie and Lake Ontario, and that a general movement toward Montreal and Quebec was contemplated.

While our friends were trudging through the woods northward, General Prideaux had gone to Schenectady. He had with him his own division of the army consisting of two regiments of English soldiers and twenty-six hundred Americans, principally from New York, although with the New Yorkers were a good sprinkling of rangers from Vermont, Massachusetts, New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Virginia, men who roamed from one colony to another, looking for a chance to better themselves and ever ready for a fight, be it with the French or the Indians.

From Schenectady General Prideaux moved up the Mohawk Valley, which was the most direct route to the lakes. This old Indian trail was protected by Fort Herkimer, Fort William, Fort Stanwix, Fort Bull, and other fortifications along the river and Lake Oneida. But this great wilderness was a wilderness still, with stopping places few and far between, and had it not been for the friendliness of the Indians – thanks to the good work done by General Johnson – matters might have gone badly with the English. More than once there was an alarm and at night sentries were posted with as much care as though they were in the very heart of the enemy's country.

It was not until three days after meeting Arrow Head and his followers that our friends came in sight of General Prideaux's command, toiling painfully around some of the rapids in the river. This first sight of the army was a thrilling one, for uniforms and weapons shone brightly in the clear sunlight. Dave's heart gave a bound.

"Puts me in mind of the time I marched with Braddock," he said to Henry. "Indeed, it might almost be the same scene over again."

"Well, let us hope it isn't the same defeat over again," returned his cousin, grimly.

The army came to a halt half an hour later, and then they learned that General Johnson and his Indians were miles away. They talked the matter over and at length concluded to move forward with the soldiers, trusting to luck to interview Johnson later.

It was an easy matter for Barringford and Hans Schnitzer to locate a number of friends among the rangers, and they received a hearty welcome, and Dave and Henry were put at their ease. One old soldier asked Dave if he had seen much of the war, and when the lad told him he had been both with Braddock and with Forbes in the attacks on what was now Fort Pitt the old soldier shook his hand warmly and "reckoned as how" he'd "do fust-rate to fight them Frenchmen at Fort Niagara."

Our four friends were assigned to a company under Captain John Mollett, who was known to Barringford, and inside of a couple of days felt thoroughly at home.

In those days the Mohawk River was navigable with canoes and batteaux to within four miles of Lake Oneida. From this point the boats had to be carried across the watershed, on the backs of horses, Indians, and soldiers to the lake. From Lake Oneida it was clear sailing down the Oswego River to Lake Ontario.

As they had done so many times in the past, some of the English soldiers were apt to sneer at the provincials, and this led to more than one wordy quarrel and not infrequently to blows.

"They make me sick!" declared Henry, one day, after listening to the bluster of several grenadiers. "To hear them talk one would think only they were able to fight. I reckon we can do our full share."

"If they say anything to me I'll tell 'em what happened under Braddock," returned Dave. "And they can take it as they please."

Barringford counseled moderation, but secretly he was as much put out as the boys even though some of the English were his warm friends. He had come near to having a quarrel with an English lieutenant named Naster and he was still much disturbed over this.

That very night Dave, while on picket duty, heard Lieutenant Naster finding fault with an old ranger named Campwell. Campwell was a pioneer over sixty-five years of age, and while a good shot and a good fighter was at times not just right in his mind, although he could by no means be called crazy. The pair came close to where Dave was on guard and the young soldier heard the lieutenant poke all manner of fun at the old man.

"Better go home and mind the babies, Campwell," said the English lieutenant. "It's more in your line of duty, isn't it now?"

"Let me alone!" cried the old man. "If I was to mind babies I'd not mind such a one as you, I'll warrant. 'T would have been better had you remained in England."

"Ha! so you call me a baby?" roared Lieutenant Naster, sourly. "If I am, how do you like that from me?" And he gave the old pioneer a shove that sent him headlong over the roots of a nearby tree.

The action was so cowardly, and so entirely uncalled for, that it made Dave's temper rise on the instant, and regardless of consequences he leaped to where Lieutenant Naster was standing and caught him by the shoulder.

"Leave him alone, you brute!" he ejaculated. "How dare you treat an old man like that?"

In sudden fear the English lieutenant wheeled around. When he saw it was only a boy who had spoken, and a hated provincial at that, his rage returned.

"What do you mean by placing your dirty hand on me!" he roared. "I'll have you arrested on the spot! This to me – an officer of the King's Guard! Preposterous!"

"It wasn't right to molest old Campwell," returned Dave, sturdily. "He is as brave as any of us, and I have heard tell that he has fought well all through this war. You ought – "

"Don't tell me what I ought to do, you dirty little plantation hand! Say another word and I'll report you at headquarters."

"As you please," answered Dave, recklessly. "But if you worry Campwell any more you'll have an account to settle with Colonel Haldimand – and I can tell you that he won't put up with it any more than any of us."

At the mention of the officer in charge of the provincials the English lieutenant was for the moment nonplussed. He knew Colonel Haldimand to be a Swiss-American of stern military bearing and one to whom many of the pioneers were warmly attached.

"You – you threaten me?" he asked, after an ugly pause.

"You can take it as you please."

"My affair with this old man was my own – not yours."

"Yes, but I'm glad he took my part," came from Campwell, as he arose slowly to his feet, for the fall had deprived him of his breath. "You took a mean advantage o' me. I've a good mind to fill ye full o' buckshot!" And he caught hold of his gun threateningly.

It was now that Lieutenant Naster showed his true nature. Much of his color forsook him and he retreated in alarm.

"Don't – don't!" he cried, hurriedly. "I – I didn't mean to be – ah – serious. The whole thing was meant in fun."

"No fun in shoving me down."

"I – ah – I didn't mean to shove you so hard – upon my honor I did not, Campwell. Let us drop it; won't you?"

The old pioneer gave a grunt. He was too open-hearted to understand such a mean, sneaking nature as that of the Englishman.

"We'll drop it – but keep your hands off of me in the future," he said, at last.

"I won't bother you. But you – " The lieutenant turned to Dave. "I'll bear you in mind, my fine young cock-of-the-walk, – and I'll take you down a peg or two ere I'm done with you, remember what I say!" And with a shake of his fist he hurried away in the darkness.

A minute after this Barringford came up, asking what was the matter. When told his brow contracted.

"That lieutenant is a regular sneak," he said. "Keep your eye open fer him, Dave – an' don't trust him a farthing's worth. He is just the kind to play you dirty the first chance he gits."

CHAPTER XXIV

HENRY IS ATTACKED

The days to follow were full of hard work for the young soldiers. They were detailed with the baggage corps, and had all they could do to bring through the many things left in their care. Although Dave did not know the truth, it was Lieutenant Naster who had much of this work piled on the young soldier's shoulders.

The sail down Lake Oneida proved a period of rest, for which both Dave and Henry were truly thankful. Both made the journey in a long and wide batteau, commonly called to-day a flat-bottom boat. It was now the end of June and the weather was hot. On one occasion the youths went in bathing, but this time nothing molested them. They also went fishing and brought out as nice a mess of fish as the clear waters of this lake afforded.

"It's an ideal spot for a home," said Dave. "Puts me in mind of the Kinotah."