How Canada Was Won: A Tale of Wolfe and Quebec

"If snow begins to fall, those who are out scouting will make at once for Fort William Henry," said Steve. "They will endeavour to hit upon the meeting-place where this rascal sells his news, while those who are resting here will file off to that point on the lake, and will draw a line out from it. It will be cold work, boys, but it may bring success, and thanks from our commander. I think, too, that it might help if the men engaged in this last duty were dressed as Indians, for then a Frenchman who happened to catch sight of one of our number would not take fright so easily. You see, we have very few braves working with us, and they seldom come even as far from the fort as this. The French have, on the other hand, some hundreds of Hurons, Micmacs, and other braves, and they make long excursions."

"It air a good thing that," agreed Pete. "What's more, there ain't a one of us that can't dress as an Injun in quick time, and act the part too. As for dress, there's plenty of the braves lyin' out in the forest."

For a week the scouting work of the band of trappers went on without incident. The two parties fell into their duties as if they were born to them, and all agreed that their lot was infinitely more pleasant than it would have been had they remained at Fort William Henry. Thanks to the care which Steve had taken, the men had ample time for rest and sleep, and either half of the band on their return from scouting always found a good meal ready, that being one of the duties of those resting in the fort.

"Reckon that 'ere attack and the way we beat 'em off has shook them Frenchies and their Injuns up a bit," said Jim, one night as he sat smoking in front of the cosy fire which blazed in the fort. "They've had their own way for a precious long time, and it's kind'er taken their breath away to have someone suddenly stop 'em. There ain't no news from Fort William Henry, Cap'n?"

"Only that the commandant thinks that whoever has been sending news to the enemy has been quiet this last week. It has been fine, Jim."

"Ay, and it'll snow afore many hours have gone. Jacob thar?"

"Waal, what air wrong? What's wanted?"

A bearded head, topped by a coon-skin cap of huge dimensions which covered the ears, was thrust into the opening of the fort, while the owner held the blanket aside with one of his thickly gloved hands. The firelight shone upon his tanned face, and upon the hundreds of tiny icicles which clung to his beard, his moustache, and eyebrows.

"Waal?" he repeated. "What's amiss?"

"Nothing, lad. But you air the boy on sentry go, as Mac calls it, and it's reasonable to think that you've looked to the weather. What's it doin'?"

"Nothing. Jest cold as ever it was. But it's cloudy. There ain't so many stars. Suppose it'll snow afore midnight."

"Then sing out when the first flake falls," called Jim. "Now, shut that 'ere door, Jacob, and quick with it. The wind comes in like a knife, and we're warm and smokin'."

The bearded face at the opening grinned, a grin denoting disgust rather than merriment.

"You was always like that, Huntin' Jim," Jacob growled. "Just wait till it's your turn for sentry go. I'll be the boy then to sit snug in thar and smoke, and I won't let you know it, oh no, of course I won't."

He was gone, and they heard his feet scrunching the frozen snow outside. The blanket fell into its place, and the men inside lounged again, spreading their hands to the flare, smoking and gossiping, for your trapper was not always the silent person he is sometimes painted, but a garrulous individual, fond of company, and making the most of it when he had the opportunity. A little later blankets were produced, and the whole party lay down with their feet to the fire, over which a huge iron pot of stew was left simmering.

"It air snowin'. Jest rouse yerselves and come out. It'll liven some of yer outside, for the wind air like a knife."

Jacob's bearded face appeared again, and he roused the trappers with no gentle hand. They sprang to their feet, rubbed the sleep from their eyes, and prepared to depart. Ten minutes later saw them all filing from the fort, all save two who were to act as guard. They were dressed in their usual hunting costumes, under which all wore the thickest and warmest garments that they could procure for otherwise they could never have endured such exposure. And now, in addition, each had an Indian blanket wrapped round him, while an eagle's crest was secured to the warm fur caps which all wore.

"We shall pass," said Steve, as he inspected his comrades in the firelight. "Now, one word more before we go. This must be the work of one man to-night. We shall be spread out over the ice, and should the Frenchman come, he will probably be seen by one only of our number. That one must pounce upon him promptly. Come along."

He turned to the doorway and went out, the band following close upon his heels. It was snowing outside, but not so hard as it did on the day when the Indians and French attacked them. It was, in fact, just the night that a man would choose for an expedition such as that of meeting a rascal from the British force, and buying information from him, for the snow would act as an excellent cloak, while it was not so thick as to prevent a man from making progress in it. Then again, though the wind was cold, it was not blowing strongly, and what there was came from the south.

Steve stepped over the snow wall which had been left in front of the fort, and gaining the steep slope beyond it, promptly slid down, his snowshoes scattering the white particles in a fine spray on either side. One by one the band followed, floundering down to the bottom. Then they moved off in single file, and very soon had plunged into the depths of the silent forest. Three miles took them to the bank of Lake St. George, when they struck out on to the ice, here clear of snow, for the wind had been in the opposite direction, and had swept it away. Their faces were now turned to the north, and they kept on in that direction for half an hour. Then Steve halted. It was still very dark, and snowing a little. But all were glad to find that the forest, which clad the point below them, sheltered them from the keen wind, and that it was considerably warmer.

"We will spread now," said Steve. "If you find that you are getting cold, swing your arms round your head. Don't beat them against your sides, for the sound would carry."

"It air likely, too, that some of the boys will fall asleep with this cold and standin' still," whispered Jim. "Steve, supposin' yer order the men to beat up and down past one another. That'll keep 'em lively, and it'll make it more sartin that no one can get through."

There were twelve in all, and their young leader at once adopted the suggestion.

"We'll divide again into two parties," he said. "Jim, you will have command of the five out farthest, making with yourself six. I'll command the other half. We will spread out for a quarter of a mile from this bank, you posting yourself at the farthest point. The men will be at intervals of about forty yards, and as soon as they are in position they will commence to beat to and fro, each couple exchanging places. In that way the ground will be thoroughly patrolled. Understand?"

"Right, Cap'n."

"Then take your men. This fellow may be along at any moment."

Within ten minutes the twelve watchers were in position, and for four long and weary hours the men continued to patrol the snow-covered ice. But trappers were used to such work, and made light of the exposure, though the wind was so cold, even here in the shelter, that untrained men would quickly have succumbed. However, Jim's idea helped not a little, for the men patrolled backwards and forwards without cessation, walking at a brisk pace, which kept their blood circulating and their extremities warm. And as they watched, the snow still fell silently and gently, sometimes almost ceasing altogether. The sky overhead was still overcast, but not so much as before, and that added to the reflection from this vast expanse of white made it possible for all the men to see a few yards in all directions, and to retain their relative positions. A deathly silence hung over the lake, broken only by an occasional crash, as the wind sent a mass of snow tumbling from the trees in the forest. Then the sound would reverberate down the long expanse of ice, and go rolling away to the mountains far beyond.

"It looks as if we were going to be disappointed, Jim," said Steve, as he walked along the line to speak to the hunter. We have been in position four solid hours, and have seen nothing."

"Which don't say as there ain't nothin' to be seen, Cap'n," was the answer. "I reckon it's somewhere's about three in the mornin', and a good hour for this feller to be returnin'. P'raps he slipped past here before we turned out of the fort. He may have made so far through the forest, and then dropped on to the ice when the snow commenced. Give him another two hours, and then we may as well get back to the fort and curl up in front of the fire. It's cold here. Them chaps down at Fort William Henry would ha' been asleep or frozen long ago."

They separated again, and another half hour passed without interruption. Then, suddenly, from the lower end of the lake there came a shout, then a second, and almost immediately afterwards the report of a rifle, heard very clearly at that distance, for the ice acted as a sounding-board. At once all was excitement amongst the waiting trappers. They lifted their coon-skin caps so as to make sure that they would hear even the slightest sound, and ranged up and down at an even faster pace. They were on the qui vive, and determined to catch anyone who attempted to pass them.

"Chances air that Pete and the other boys have come upon the meeting of these varmint," said Jim, as he drew close to Steve. "They've likely as not shot one of 'em, and will be followin' the other. Supposin' we extend a little."

The movement was carried out promptly, Steve stationing himself on the far extremity of the line. An hour later, when the excitement had died down and the trappers were beginning to murmur that there was little use in staying, for the man, if he actually existed, must have already passed, or have been shot lower down the lake, Steve thought he caught sight of a figure flitting across the snow quite a distance out on the lake. He could not be certain, but as it would not do to miss even a chance, he hurriedly set off in the direction, trusting that the trapper stationed next to him would be careful to notice that he had gone, and would follow on his traces. Dashing ahead at his fastest pace, it was not long before he came upon the marks of snowshoes, and, thanks to the increased light out there on the lake, made sure that two men had passed. Then he set off after them, sweeping over the snow at a rate which would have taxed the endurance of an Indian, for Steve was an old hand with snowshoes. A quarter of an hour later he again caught sight of a figure, and within a few minutes made out a second, in advance of the first. The time for action had arrived. He took one swift glance behind him, and thought he saw the dull outline of one of the trappers following in his wake. Then he started forward again, and soon was within easy distance of the last of the figures.

"Halt, there!" he shouted, as he lifted his musket to his shoulder. "Throw your hands up, both of you, and return at once."

There was an exclamation, a shout of alarm, and almost instantly the two men threw themselves on their faces in the snow. Then there was a short interval, followed by the loud report of a musket. A splash of flame illumined the darkness, while a leaden ball raced past Steve's head, and went humming into the distance. He was down in an instant, and having waited to make sure of the position of the enemy, he took careful aim and fired. Instantly there was a loud scream, one of the dark figures started up, staggered, and fell again, to roll over and over in the snow. Then something else happened. A dozen shots were fired from a spot some little distance to the right, while Indian war-whoops broke on the air.

"They must have had friends waiting for them," thought Steve, as he busily reloaded. "Where is Jim? He and the men should be here by now. Ah! That must be their fire."

He swung round suddenly, for more shots had rung out behind him, shots which he made sure came from the muskets of his friends. But in a moment he found that he was mistaken. A series of loud reports answered the last discharge, and the flashes told him that the muskets were aimed in his direction.

"Surrounded! The Indians have got between me and my friends," thought Steve. "I must creep away, and make the best of a bad position."

He knelt up stealthily, saw no one in his immediate neighbourhood, and commenced to creep on hands and knees. But he was not allowed to go very far, for one of the two dusky figures which he had been following rose at once, and strode back a few paces. There was the loud ring of a ramrod as the man drove in a bullet, and then came the report, the crash of which rang in Steve's ears. Stars flashed in front of his eyes, and the snow over which he was creeping turned to a blood-red hue. He fell all of a heap, and lay there for some few seconds, while the shouts of the combatants rang in his ears. Then he revived a little, staggered to his feet and fell again, this time with a crash which left him senseless. When he came to himself again he was being carried on the shoulders of four Indians, the snow had ceased, and the lights which twinkled in the distance were those of Ticonderoga. Steve was a prisoner.

Chapter XIV

Steve meets an Old Enemy

Steve Mainwaring was a prisoner, and as he realised that fact a thousand misgivings filled his mind. For to be taken by the French and their Indians was not a fate which even the boldest of the British courted.

"It may mean torture," he thought. "The French are not always able to control their Indians, and even if they were always capable of doing so, there are the backwoodsmen. We have heard what they are, and the fugitives from our settlements have given us many a tale of their ferocity."

No one, in fact, could guess in those rough days what pains were awaiting him if he fell into the hands of the French, and if there had not been sufficient evidence already, there was to be abundance in the near future. But that was hardly required. The thousands of unhappy settlers who had been driven from the forests and the backwoods were full of tales of brutality, of cruelty on the part of French pioneers and Indians alike. And it was a known fact that even if the French were kindly disposed and desirous of treating their prisoners well, they often had to stand aside and look on helplessly while the braves who were their allies wreaked a terrible vengeance on the unhappy people who had been captured. This was the price which New France had too often to pay for the allegiance of these monsters.

"I have been taken in fair fight, and am a prisoner of war," Steve said to himself. "That in itself should gain fair treatment for me. But what is the use of worrying? I am cold, and have a severe pain in my side. I suppose I have been wounded. Brothers, have you a blanket with which to cover me? My blood runs cold with the frost and my wound, and in a little while I shall be frozen."

He spoke the last aloud, addressing himself to the Indians who carried him, and speaking in the Mohawk tongue. All four instantly came to a halt, there was a grunt from the leading man on the right, and then Steve was gently laid on the ground.

"Cold, brother?" said the leader, a fine specimen of a brave, if the faint light could be trusted. "We will give you a covering and see to your comfort. Tell us, how comes it that you speak our tongue, or rather, that of the Mohawks? Have you lodged in their wigwams?"

Steve answered with a nod. "I have lived and hunted with them," he said feebly, for he was very weak. "They are firm friends of mine, as are others of the Iroquois nation. They call me Hawk."

At that there was another grunt, a grunt which denoted approval and the small amount of astonishment which the brave would permit himself to express.

"Hawk. Yes, we have heard of you. Then you were the chief of those whom we attacked a week ago?"

"I was. The fight was a fair and open one. The Hurons attacked boldly, but were unfortunate. Those who fell were as brave as those who lived to return to Ticonderoga."

This time all the bearers nodded their approval and grunted. For these Indian braves, with all their faults, with all their ferocity and their barbarous customs, had one redeeming virtue. They were brave, and they respected bravery. It was the one great virtue after which all strove, and if an enemy could speak well of their conduct, then he was for the time being a friend. More than that, these wild men of the backwoods, who had come so many miles to aid the French, were accustomed, like other Indian nations, to make much of their prisoners, provided they had fought with courage. A prisoner with them was a man who had already shown fortitude, and who, by becoming a prisoner, threw down the gage to his captors as it were, and boldly asserted that if they were bold, he was still bolder, that if they and their brothers could support hardship and pain amounting to the acutest agony, he could support the fiercest pains which they his captors could design. In fact, a prisoner was wont to boast loudly of his own superiority, to defy his captors to make him flinch, and when the time for the ordeal came, to endure hours of the most diabolical torture, and finally the pangs of death without so much as a groan, if possible with a smile of triumph on his quivering lips. And till the time for torture arrived he was a brother and a man, deserving of respect and attention, not a beast to be goaded and bullied and loaded with chains.

"Our brother is weak," said the brave. "He shall have a covering at once, and we will carry him with all comfort and care. The Hawk is our friend. We have heard of him. There are braves with us who met the Hawk and his brothers on the Mohawk river and down in the great valley beyond. Yes, of a truth, the Hawk is known to us as a man of bravery and energy." He went off over the snow at a swinging pace, and presently his tall figure appeared again, while in his hands he bore a huge rug of bearskin.

"This will keep the warmth in you, Hawk," he said kindly. "We will wrap you in it till you are completely covered. Then your blood will run again. You have lost much, brother. See, it is frozen on your shirt."

Steve had not felt the place before, but was glad to hear the news, for he reckoned that if there had been severe bleeding from his wound, as seemed to have been the case, for he was very weak, the frost had arrested further hæmorrhage, and perhaps saved his life. He submitted while the Indians wrapped him in the skin rug, and then felt himself lifted on their shoulders again. Very soon he was in a comfortable glow from head to foot, and that, combined with his weakness and weariness, caused his eyes to close, and he fell asleep. An hour or more later a light flashed in his face, for the dawn had not yet broken, and on looking round, he found that he was in a big hut, the walls of which were constructed of whole timbers. The light flashed from a candle lamp hanging to the rafters, and showed beside the walls and roof of the hut, the figures of the four Indians standing about him, and some twelve French soldiers and as many backwoodsmen, the irregulars on the side of France. Someone was speaking in the background, and for a time he listened to the words. Then some familiar note in the voice struck on his ear, and he found himself wondering who was speaking, wondering why the voice caused his heart to flutter so and his pulses to beat.

"One captured, you say? Only one? Peste! Is this carrying out my orders?"

There was a bang as the speaker's hand came down upon a table which stood close to one of the walls.

"That is so, monsieur. One only was taken," came the answer, and by dint of craning his head, Steve saw that it was a regular who spoke, dressed in the familiar uniform of the French line, but now swathed in warm furs, which, however, did not cover the chevrons, which showed that he was a sergeant. "One only, monsieur," he repeated, as if excusing himself.

"And for this fine capture you paid well no doubt. What was the price? Come, I am asking you."

The voice was very calm now. There was a note of satire in it, and those who listened could tell that the man who spoke was angry, that his calmness was only the prelude to an outburst of temper. The sergeant felt that, too. He drew himself up at attention, clapped his pike close against his shoulder, and looked askance at his commander.

"The price, monsieur. There was one killed by this prisoner, and three others who fell within the five minutes which followed. Yes, four were killed altogether, one of these being a messenger."

"Ah! I hear. But there were three messengers. That was the arrangement, friend, for if one were fool enough to be captured or killed, then there were two left. You follow, sergeant? You give me news of one of these fine fellows. I have been roused in haste, and have come here expecting other news. You do not bring it. You have only one beggarly prisoner to show. The whole tale, man. Let me have it."

This time the speaker's rage got the better of him, and he thumped on the table as an excited Frenchman might be expected to do, leaning far over it till his face was within an inch of the sergeant's. Not till then did Steve catch sight of his features, and when he did so, he fell back with a scarcely suppressed groan. It was Jules Lapon, the very man who had hunted him and his friends out of house and home.

"The whole tale, monsieur? You have heard it already, unless – "

"Unless what? Speak fool. I am but just out of my bed, and have gathered nothing, save the fact that you have returned without a single messenger."

"Then the news is still bad," came the faltering answer. "One messenger was killed within four miles of this, while the hunter who accompanied him as guide escaped unharmed. They were set upon near the British fort, and they alone escaped. The other two messengers are therefore accounted for. They were surrounded and attacked by hunters, just as the two who escaped were suddenly followed and fired on at this end of the lake. We put the enemy's numbers down at a dozen, and of those we captured one. He is here, monsieur."

The sergeant having unburdened himself of a disagreeable tale, endeavoured to distract his angry commander's attention from himself and his failure to the prisoner, and succeeded. Jules Lapon scowled at him for a little while, drumming with his fingers on the table. Then he cleared a path for himself by savagely sweeping the soldiers aside, and in a moment was standing over the prisoner.

"Bring a light and let us see the fellow," he growled. "Come, it is so dark in this hole that one cannot see. Are you sure, sergeant, that he is one of the enemy? You have done so well that perhaps you have half-killed and then captured one of our own side. Mistakes are made in the darkness."

"By white men, perhaps, monsieur," came the answer, an answer which caused Jules to writhe. "Indians were with us, monsieur, and they are not often in error."

"The lamp, man! Hold it higher, and pull that skin from his head. Ah!"

He started back as if he had been shot, and gripped instinctively at the tomahawk which was thrust in his belt. For a moment he looked thoroughly frightened, and then of a sudden his features assumed an expression of triumph and hate and of the most diabolical malice all intermingled till those who watched him were amazed and horrified. As for Steve, he was utterly bewildered. He knew well that the meeting between himself and this Jules Lapon would hardly prove a pleasant one, for the relations between them were somewhat strained. He and his friends had, in fact, obtained two consecutive victories over this Frenchman and his band of Indians, and no doubt those successes had roused the ire of Jules. But the tables were turned now, and had been for some time. For if Jules had lost at first, he was the conqueror now. He had turned Steve out of house and home, the settlement where the hunters had lived so happily was his, by right of conquest if by no other right, and now, to crown all, here was the Hawk his prisoner, wounded and completely in his hands. Then why so much triumph and hate?