At War with Pontiac by Kirk Munroe (best book reader txt) 📕

disappear from that part of the country. Then, too, Ah-mo's strength was so nearly spent that she was in no condition for rough travel, even had they the means to go and a knowledge of what direction to take. So, after a long discussion, it was reluctantly decided that they must remain where they were until the coming of spring with its flowing sap should enable them to build another canoe, and resume their search for Donald's sister.

The succeeding weeks were filled with busy and arduous toil. A winter in that latitude, where the mercury often falls to 20 degrees and even 30 degrees below zero, can only be successfully encountered after elaborate preparation, and the little company who now found themselves stranded on the verge of that vast northern forest, had everything to do, with but slight means and scanty time. The followers of Mahng had abandoned many things in their hasty flight which now proved of the utmost value, and a welcome addition to the limited outfit of Donald and Atoka. Among these things were several blankets, an axe, and a few rude cooking-utensils.

These they removed to the spot selected for their winter home, about a mile from the river on the bank of a small stream that flowed into it and near by a pond formed by an old and very large beaver dam. Here, before night of that first day, a snug hut of bark was erected for Ah-mo's accommodation, and from here the young men set forth the next morning on the busiest season of hunting and trapping in which either of them had ever engaged. Everything that wore fur or feathers and could furnish meat to be smoked or dried for future use was eagerly sought. Their success was phenomenal. Deer, bear, turkeys, and geese fell before their rifles, while their traps, in the construction of which Atoka was a past-master, yielded beaver, otter, muskrat, and raccoons.

Within a month they had collected such a quantity of meat and skins as assured them against both hunger and cold between then and spring. Now they turned their attention to a house, and, with only their ready axes for tools, they had one finished two weeks later that they surveyed with genuine pleasure and pardonable pride. It was of logs, notched and fitted together at the corners, twelve feet square and with walls six feet high. It was chinked with moss, had a tight floor of hewed cedar planks, a roof of hemlock bark, a chimney and fireplace of stones cemented with blue clay and sand, two small windows covered with scraped and tightly stretched intestines taken from a deer, and a stout door hung on wooden hinges.

The hut was hardly ready for occupancy before the winter storms set in and the whole forest world was buried in snow. Still the inmates of "Castle Beaver," as Donald named their cosy dwelling, were by no means idle nor did an hour of time hang heavily on their hands for lack of occupation. Ah-mo had gathered an immense supply of flags and sedge grass, from which she not only braided enough of the matting, so commonly used among the northern tribes, to enclose her own corner of the hut, but to cover all the interior walls as well. The floor was warmly spread with skins, from which their couches were also formed.

Besides always adding to the comforts of their home, they found plenty of indoor work in the way of cutting out buckskin and fur garments which were sewed with deer sinew, the making of snowshoes and wooden bowls, and the braiding of mats. For recreation Donald told tales of the great world beyond the sea, Ah-mo related incidents of her life in Montreal, and Atoka recalled many a weird Indian legend. They also played simple games. Atoka was taught to read and write from copies set by Donald, while all three improved their knowledge of English, French, and several Indian dialects. For outside work there were traps to be visited, snow to be cleared from the path leading to the river, the water hole through the ice to be chopped out every day, water to be fetched, wood to be cut for the roaring fireplace, fish to be caught through the ice in the pond, and an occasional hunt to be taken after fresh meat.

In all this busy life Ah-mo, who had fully recovered her strength and beauty, was ever the leading spirit. At the same time she was so modest and intelligent, so cheerful and uncomplaining, that Donald regarded her with ever-increasing respect and admiration.

"If Edith were only with us," he would sigh, "I think I should be content to dwell here for the rest of my life," whereat Ah-mo would laugh and bid him be cautious how he made such rash statements. Never a day passed but what they talked of Edith and planned their search for her. Donald, too, often spoke of his dear friend Christie, who, he declared, was the one white man of his acquaintance with whom he would be willing to share this pleasant forest life.

At length the winter came to an end. The south winds began to blow, the snow to melt, the ice to break up, the wild geese to fly northward in V-shaped companies, and the sap to run in the trees. While the snow was still on the ground, they gathered sap from the rock maples and boiled it into a plentiful supply of sugar. After that came the building of a canoe and the fashioning of its paddles.

It was with high hopes, but at the same time with genuine regret, that, late in May, they bade farewell to their winter home, launched a canoe, deep-laden with their accumulated stock of furs, and started southward on the swift waters of the Wisconsin. For weeks they floated with its current, and on the mighty volume of the Mississippi. At the newly established trading-post of St. Louis they exchanged their furs for ammunition and such goods as they needed, but at such extortionate rates as made Donald's blood boil with anger.

Here, for the first time in many months, they met white men, but none of these suspected for a moment that Donald was aught but the Indian he appeared, nor did he undeceive them, and after a short stay their journey was resumed. It was still southward to the Ohio, then up that river and the Wabash to the place where Ah-mo and Edith had been separated. Here, with all their efforts, they could only learn that the white girl had been taken to the eastward into the country of the Delawares. So they patiently retraced their course down the winding Wabash, and then continued their way up the Ohio to the Scioto and the Muskingum, stopping to make inquiries at every Indian camp and village through all that vast territory. Sometimes they seemed to find a clue, but it was always quickly lost, and toward the end of the summer they were well-nigh despairing. Only Ah-mo remained cheerfully hopeful and ever urged the others to fresh efforts.

At length, in September, they learned the startling news that a great English army was descending the Ohio from Fort Pitt, and that its commander, Colonel Bouquet, had summoned all the Indians of that region to meet him on the Muskingum. There they were to deliver to him every white captive whom they held and sign a treaty of peace, or else he would ravage their country with fire and bullet. From the moment he heard of this Donald determined to attend that great gathering, and his companions willingly consented to accompany him.

CHAPTER XXXIX AN ADOPTED DAUGHTER OF THE FOREST

So forgetful had the people of Pennsylvania become of the example of their great founder that they systematically robbed, cheated, and murdered the unfortunate Indians with whom they had dealings, until, fired by the eloquence of Pontiac, these rose in rebellion and began a fierce war of revenge. Now the panic-stricken traders and frontier settlers, who were directly responsible for this state of affairs, demanded that a bounty be offered for Indian scalps. By their clamor they at length forced the English governor of the colony to yield to their demands and sign the infamous bill. It provided that a reward averaging one hundred dollars be paid for the scalp of every Indian, man, woman, or child, killed within the limits of the province. Upon the issuing of this proclamation, to quote a leading historian, "an era of carnage ensued, during which the worst acts of Indian ferocity were thrown into the shade by the enormities of white barbarians."

Dwelling in a Shawnee village at this time was an English soldier named David Owens, who had deserted from Braddock's army ten years before and joined the Indians. He had been kindly received, adopted into the tribe, had married the daughter of a chief, and become the father of two children. With the prospect of gaining a reward for Indian scalps, all the cupidity of this man's fiendish nature was aroused, and on the approach of Bouquet's army he conceived a plan for enriching himself and at the same time escaping the punishment due him as a deserter. While meditating it he found himself encamped one night with two warriors, his own wife, another woman, and his two children. Toward morning he arose, and seeing by the dim light of the camp-fire that the others were buried in profound sleep, he placed two rifles so that their muzzles were close to the heads of the unconscious warriors and pulled both triggers at the same instant. Then, with hatchet and knife, he deliberately despatched the women and children, who cowered about him in helpless terror. With the horrible evidences of his crime dangling from his belt he then set forth for the nearest English outpost. Here he was not only paid for his scalps, but pardoned for his desertion and given a commission as interpreter in Bouquet's army.

So infuriated were the inmates of the village to which the victims of this outrage belonged, that, in retaliation, they determined to put to death six white captives who happened to be in their power. These were to be tortured on so many successive days. Five of them suffered their dreadful fate before the eyes of the sixth, and, at length, it came his turn to be led to the stake. He was a stalwart, handsome fellow, who had been held as a slave for more than a year. He had refused several offers of adoption, preferring to retain the privilege of effecting an escape, if he could, to pledging his loyalty to the tribe. So, as a slave, he had been made to toil early and late for his savage masters. Now, having fruitlessly exhausted every means of escape, as well as his powers of pleading for his own life, he determined to meet his fate as bravely as became a British soldier. With a rope about his neck, and a face betraying no trace of the horror and despair that filled his soul, he walked calmly through the jeering throng of spectators to the fatal stake.

The rope was already made fast to it, and the signal for the first act of the dreadful drama was about to be given, when a fair-haired girl, mounted on a pony, dashed through the crowd, scattering it to right and left. She severed the rope that bound the motionless captive to the tree of death, and then, wheeling about, delivered, with flashing eyes and bitter tongue, a harangue in the Indian language that caused her hearers to hang their heads in shame. She termed them cowards for visiting their vengeance on innocent and helpless captives, and fearlessly bade them begone from her sight, ere she called down the wrath of the Great Spirit on their heads.

As the abashed savages slunk away before the sting of her burning words,