CHAPTER VIII

THE NIGHT-WATCH

Quickly the canoes were drawn to the bank and hidden amongst the overhanging bushes. A moment later a rustling was heard amongst the branches, and Wabeno stood before them.

"What has my red brother seen?" asked the major.

"Wabeno has seen the trail of a serpent!" replied the chief.

"Had the serpent moccasins?"

"Yes! The moccasins of the Iroquois."

"Humph! How many?"

The Algonquin held up seven fingers, to indicate how many footprints he had seen.

"'Tis only a small scalping party, then, which has passed this way. We'd better camp here for the night."

Wabeno insisted, however, that there was probably a larger party of Iroquois in the neighbourhood, and was for resting only until sunset, and then travelling rapidly through the night in order to reach the lakes as soon as possible. He seemed to think, also, that for several days past they had been watched by the scouts of the enemy.

As the chief spoke he looked keenly at the forest on the other side of the stream, as though he would like to read some fatal secret which that dense, virgin growth held inviolate; then, without further words, he turned and disappeared into the forest, as though to join his scouts.

"His words seem rather ominous, Jamie," said Jack, when he had gone, and they were busying themselves making fast the canoes and unloading a few things.

"Yes, I'm sorry that the major paid so little attention to his words. He seems to think that they are only a small band of marauding Indians who have recently crossed the river, and that if they do attack us we shall be more than a match for them. Well, let's hope he's right."

"There's something wrong, and I like not the redskin's uneasiness, old fellow. He scents danger, though he won't press his opinions upon the leader. He believes it's more than a scalping party, but he evidently thinks he's a match for Iroquois cunning."

"Did you notice the way he looked across the river? I wonder if that's the quarter he suspects? But come, we must lend the men a hand, for 'twill be dark in a few minutes," said Jamie.

Major Ridout took every precaution, however, against a surprise attack. All the Indians except two were sent into the forest to keep a strict watch. A few trees were felled and a rude abattis constructed, which instilled a certain amount of security into each mind.

Then darkness fell, and one by one the men stretched themselves on the ground and slept, with their rifles beside them. The two comrades, however, still talked in whispers as they lay rolled in their blankets.

"Just look at the men, Jack! How quiet they all are to-night? No noise, no singing or dancing this time. 'Tis my belief that we're in a tight corner, and if the Iroquois manage to get in past the scouts, there won't be a scalp left on any of us at daybreak."

"Never mind, we can only die once. The scouts are sure to give us warning, and then we'll sell our lives dearly. We've been in many a scrape before, old fellow, and we've always pulled through. There seems to be a Providence over us."

"Why, yes, it seems so. Do you remember the fight with the French cruiser?"

"Shall I ever forget it? I thought every moment would be my last when the broadsides opened upon us."

"Hush! What was that?"

The hoot of an owl was distinctly heard twice, and a moment afterwards it was answered by the call of the night-raven. The first call seemed to come from the depth of the forest on the other side of the river.

Scarcely had the last sound died away when the two Indians who remained in the camp, though apparently fast asleep, sprang to their feet, seized their rifles and disappeared into the thicket. Several of the men half raised themselves, looked around, and then lay down once more.

For a moment the boys listened in silence, their faces turned first to the deep gloom of the forest shades, half expecting to hear from thence the deadly whoop of the fierce Iroquois, and to see the rush of savage warriors upon the sleeping camp, then they looked suspiciously across the stream that flowed at their feet.

Overhead the stars shone brightly, and the placid stream reflected their fiery points on its broad bosom. Now and again its mirrored surface was broken by the splash of the salmon and the large river-trout.

"'Twas only a bird after all, Jack. Let us go to sleep. See, the men are sleeping peacefully."

"If 'twas only a bird, then why did the Indians leave to join the scouts?"

"I can't say. Perhaps 'twas only a private call for extra scouts. You know the call to arms is the howl of the coyote, repeated twice. Besides, 'tisn't likely that the enemy will get through the scouts without being seen. An Indian is all eyes, even in the dark."

The boys laid down again, but though Jamie was soon asleep Jack remained awake, gazing up at those bright twinkling points, and listening acutely for any sound that might come. Once or twice he raised himself and looked around.

A ripple in mid-stream caught his attention. While in the starlight he gazed upon it, it seemed to come nearer. Then another ripple, and another, that spread themselves out wider and wider, and in the middle of the disturbed area there appeared a tiny speck, as though a swimmer were breasting the stream. But even as he watched it, it disappeared and was lost in the darkness.

Five minutes--ten minutes passed, but the speck, whatever it was, did not reappear. What could it be? It would be foolish to alarm the camp prematurely, so he would just creep down to the water's edge and make sure. He threw off his blanket and crawled along through the reeds and willows. He had nearly reached the water when a rustling amongst the reeds caused his heart to cease beating for an instant. What could it be?

Two glaring eyeballs, that glowed like fire, were fixed upon his, not six feet away. Jack instinctively felt for his pistol, when, horror of horrors, he had left it beside the embers of the fire. He drew his hunting-knife from its sheath, keeping his eyes fixed the while upon those glaring eye-balls; when the wild creature, evidently a wolf, attracted to the river by thirst, suddenly uttered a snarl, turned tail and made off.

"Thank God!" he gasped. "Better a wolf than an Indian." For though naturally a brave lad this sudden apparition had given him a shock that made the perspiration stand out like beads on his forehead, but he quickly recovered himself and crept down to the edge of the stream.

He could just make out the dark, indistinct outline of the forest on the opposite bank, but no ripples or dark objects were visible. Then he looked down-stream, but nothing could he see.

"I must have been deceived. What a good thing I didn't alarm the camp! How they would have laughed at me," he muttered.

Just then, however, he cast his eyes upstream. As he did so, he started again. A long, dark shadow, like a log or a canoe, half-way across, seemed to be drifting towards the northern shore on which they were camped. It was not more than two hundred yards away. It seemed to crawl along, then close behind it he saw a similar object, and still another.

What were the scouts doing? Had they been betrayed? What could they be, but canoes--Indians? Then the enemy must be crossing over, and he raised his voice for one mighty shout of--

"Iroquois."

But even as he uttered that startling cry the fierce howl of the coyote, repeated twice, the signal to alarm the camp, came from the woods, and the crack of a rifle awoke a hundred echoes and roused the men to a sense of their danger.

Even as for an instant he lingered beside the river-bank a blood-curdling yell, the war-whoop of the Iroquois, rang across the stream and echoed and re-echoed through the forest. A dozen rifles spattered out their leaden hail, for the conflict had begun at last.

Jack rushed back into the camp and found Major Ridout and the men already in position behind the logs, prepared to receive the enemy as soon as they should burst through that thin line of Algonquin scouts.

"Hullo, Jack!" cried Jamie. "Where have you been? I feared that you were a prisoner. Have you been scouting too?"

"Why, yes! That is, I couldn't sleep, and I thought I saw a curious object in mid-stream and went down to see what it was."

"And what did you find?"

"Well, I could no longer see it when I got there, but just as I was coming away I happened to look up-stream, and I saw three canoes crossing over from the southern bank.

"I wonder why the chief did not discover them before. He seems to have been watching the forest instead of the river! Hullo! What's this?"

The sounds of a desperate struggle, a hand-to-hand fight in the bushes a few yards away, attracted their attention. It was too dark, however, to see anything as yet, although the dawn would be upon them shortly.

"Stand ready, lads!" cried their leader, and every man levelled his rifle in the direction whence the sounds came.

The next moment a wounded Algonquin rushed into the camp, leaping over the abattis, and then rolled over on the ground dead. He was fearfully gashed, and it was evident that an attempt had even been made to scalp him. How he had escaped was a marvel. The yells and war-whoops had ceased now, and for a brief space even the rifles had ceased to speak, and there was a dead silence. The men waited impatiently behind that rude barricade, reserving their fire.

Suddenly a sharp, short, piercing scream, broken short, fell upon their ears, as though a mortal wound had been given and received.

"Ah, Wabeno! That is the end of Wabeno!" exclaimed one of the men.

It was indeed Wabeno who uttered that scream, and it was both his war-cry and his death-cry, for at that instant he had met in single combat the Iroquois chief, and the tomahawk of the greatest warrior within a hundred leagues of the lakes, had sunk into his brain and stretched him lifeless.

"Now the Algonquins will scatter like the leaves of the forest, and we must fight it out alone, lads. Oh! that the dawn would come!" exclaimed the major, casting a brief look towards the east.

Even as he spoke the first flush of the sunrise was lighting up the edge of the forest and the river, but the dawn only revealed to them the utter hopelessness of their position. The enemy were in great numbers, and had almost completely surrounded them, for though the river was at their rear it was being eagerly watched from the opposite bank.

Still, for some reason, the enemy did not attempt to rush the camp as yet.

"I wonder why they're hanging back, Jamie," said his comrade, who lay behind the same log with his rifle at the "ready."

"Perhaps they've had enough scalps already, and are thinking of going back to their wigwams."

"Ah," replied one of the voyageurs, who was a regular frontiersman, "that might be true of any other tribe but the Iroquois; they'll not be satisfied until their girdles are full of reeking scalps. We must teach them a lesson they'll not forget. Here goes," and raising his rifle as he spoke he fired quickly at a dark figure that was approaching the camp, leaping quickly from tree to tree.

A yell of pain escaped the Indian as he rolled over in an agony, and paid with his life for his temerity. A wild cry of vengeance came from the dark aisles of the forest, and a dozen Iroquois leapt forward to snatch away the dead body, lest it should fall into the hands of the palefaces.

This was the opportunity that had long been waited for, and the order came sharp and short--

"Fire!"

A dozen flashes of fire burst forth from behind the barricade, and a hail of bullets was poured out upon the Indians, and a confused heap of dead and wounded lay beside their fallen comrade, but ere the smoke had cleared away the piercing scream of an eagle rent the air. It was the signal for a general attack given by the Iroquois chief, and before the palefaces had time to reload their pieces, a hundred braves leapt from the cover of the trees, where they had been hidden on three sides of the camp.

The forest rang with their wild whoops, as, brandishing their hatchets and tomahawks, they leapt over the tree trunks and fell upon the voyageurs. A desperate hand-to-hand fight ensued. Frightful blows were given and received. Paleface and redskin fought like demons. Some of the former, seeing the hopelessness of prolonging the fight against such numbers of their fierce and crafty foe, rushed to the river bank, and launching one of the canoes pushed off and threw themselves in, followed by a storm of bullets and arrows.

From that moment the fight was lost, and even those who thus deserted their comrades gained nothing but dishonour and death, for they were quickly overtaken, and killed and scalped.

The rest of the small band still fought on bravely against desperate odds, for they were outnumbered by more than ten to one. Major Ridout seemed to have the strength of ten, for single-handed he encountered four Indians at once, and had stretched two of them on the ground, and wounded a third, when a fierce painted warrior, with a plume of eagle's feathers upon his head, uttered a wild cry and buried his knife in the brave man's heart.

Where were the lads all this time? As soon as the general attack was made, they placed their backs against a pine-tree that stood nearly in the middle of the clearing, and defended themselves against all-comers. They were the last survivors of that little band, and they still fought desperately with their clubbed muskets, which they wielded with a vigour and frenzy that had already sent half-a-dozen Iroquois to the ground.

The end was not far off, however. They had both received several nasty wounds, and Jack was both stunned and bleeding.

"Good-bye, Jamie!" he said, as he sank to the ground.

Jamie felt that he, too, must soon follow him, but when Jack fell he stepped across his body and swung his clubbed musket about so fiercely that the enemy fell back for a minute. An Indian hurled a hatchet, which just missed his head and buried its keen, trembling blade in the tree behind him.

He looked down at Jack's pale, death-like face. He called him by name, but no answer came, and he feared that his comrade was dead. The blood was flowing freely from his own wounds, and he felt himself getting weaker and weaker.

He was reeling now from sheer weakness and loss of blood. He could hardly hold his musket. This, then, was to be the end of it all. Deserted by the French voyageurs, to be killed and scalped by the cruel Iroquois.

"Never mind! We will die together," he mumbled to himself, "fighting to the last."

The Indians were returning now from the capture of the canoe. He could see a dozen or more gesticulating forms, dancing in frenzy before him. He could do no more. He was falling--falling--such a long way it seemed to the ground. Then he felt the sharp steel of an Indian knife cutting into his flesh, as it was hurled at him from a distance.

He felt some one clutch his scalp-lock, but he was unable to resist. He had become unconscious and oblivious of all these things. He seemed to be in another land where, instead of the dark forest with its interminable tangle and endless dangers, he roamed with Jamie beside a broken stream, where the red-spotted trout leapt in a sunlit burn, the music of whose waters charmed and soothed his tired and weary spirit.

"Stay! He is the paleface brother of the White Eagle," said a voice that broke his sub-conscious reverie; and at these words Jack opened his eyes for an instant and looked into the face of a mighty warrior whose plumed eagle crest and haughty features seemed strangely familiar.