The Hunters of the Hills, Joseph A. Altsheler [ereader ebook TXT] 📗

savage, that it was a stray canoe, and valuable, a fine prize for the taking. But he was less impulsive than the first man had been and at that point the river spread out to a much greater width. He did not know that his comrade was lying on the bank farther up in a half stunned condition, but he was naturally cautious and he stared at the canoe a long time. He saw that the action of the current would eventually work it loose from the raft, but he believed it would yet hang there for at least ten minutes. So he would have time to go back to his nearest comrade and return with him. Then one could enter the water and salvage the canoe, while the other stayed on the bank and watched. Having reached this wise conclusion he disappeared in the woods, seeking the second Indian, but before the two could come together the canoe had worked loose and was gone.

The three hidden in the bushes had watched the Indian as well as the dusk would permit and they read his mind. They knew that when he turned away he had gone for help and they knew equally well that it was time for the full power of the current to take effect.

"Shove it off, Tayoga," whispered Willet, "and I think we'd better help along with some strokes of our own."

"It is so," said Tayoga.

Now the wandering canoe was suddenly endowed with more life and purpose, or else the current grew much swifter. After an uneasy stay with the boughs, it left them quickly, sailed out toward the middle of the stream, and floated at great speed between banks that were growing high again. The friendly dark was also an increasing protection to the three who were steering it. The heavy but rainless clouds continued to gather over them, and the canoe sped on at accelerated speed in an opaque atmosphere. A mile farther and Willet suggested that they get into the canoe and paddle with all their might. The embarkation, a matter of delicacy and difficulty, was made with success, and then they used the paddles furiously.

The canoe, suddenly becoming a live thing, leaped forward in the water, and sped down the stream, as if it were the leader in a race. Far behind them rose a sudden war cry, and the three laughed.

"I suppose they've discovered in some way that we've fled," said Robert.

"That is so," said Tayoga.

"And they'll come down the river as fast as they can," said Willet, "but they'll do no more business with us. I don't want to brag, but you can't find three better paddlers in the wilderness than we are, and with a mile start we ought soon to leave behind any number of warriors who have to run through the woods and follow the windings of the stream."

"They cannot catch us now," said Tayoga, "and I will tell them so."

He uttered a war whoop so piercing and fierce that Robert was startled. It cut the air like the slash of a sword, but it was a long cry, full of varied meaning. It expressed satisfaction, triumph, a taunt for the foe, and then it died away in a sinister note like a threat for any who tried to follow. Willet laughed under his breath.

"That'll stir 'em, Tayoga," he said. "You put a little dart squarely in their hearts, and they don't like it. But they can squirm as much as they please, we're out of their reach now. Hark, they're answering!"

They heard a cry from the savage who had besieged them, but it was followed by a long silence. The three paddled with their utmost strength, the great muscles on their arms rising and falling with their exertions, and beads of perspiration standing out on their foreheads.

Hours passed. Mile after mile fell behind them. The darkness began to thin, and then the air was shot with golden beams from the rising sun. Willet, heaving an immense sigh of relief, laid his paddle across the canoe.

"The danger has passed," he said. "Now we'll land, put on our clothes and become respectable."

CHAPTER V THE MOHAWK CHIEF

The canoe was passing between low shores, and they landed on the left bank, lifting out of the water the little vessel that had served them so well, and carrying it to a point some distance in the bushes. There they sat down beside it a while and drew long, deep and panting breaths.

"I don't want to repeat that experience soon," said Robert. "I think every muscle and bone in me is aching."

"So do mine," said Willet, "but they ache in a good cause, and what's of more importance just now a successful one too. Having left no trail the Indians won't be able to follow us, and we can rest here a long time, which compels me to tell you again to put on your clothes and become respectable."

They were quite dry now, and they dressed. They also saw that their arms and ammunition were in order, and after Willet had scouted the country a bit, seeing that no human-being was near, they ate breakfast of the deer meat and felt thankful.

"The aches are leaving me," said Willet, "and in another half-hour I'll be the man I was yesterday. Not I'll be a better man. I've been in danger lots of times and always there's a wonderful feeling of happiness when I get out of it."

"That is, risk goes before real rest," said Robert.

"That's about the way to put it, and escaping as we've just done from a siege, this dawn is about the finest I've ever seen. Isn't that a big and glorious sun over there? I suppose it's the same sun I've been looking at for years, but it seems to me that it has a new and uncommonly splendid coat of gilding this morning."

"I think it was put on to celebrate our successful flight," said Robert. "It's not only a splendid sun, Dave, but it's an uncommonly friendly one too. I can look it squarely in the eye for just a second and it fairly beams on me."

"My brothers are right," said Tayoga gravely. "If it had not been the will of Manitou for us to escape from the trap that had been set for us the sun rising newly behind the mountains would not smile upon us."

"I take that as allegorical," said Robert. "We see with our souls, and our eyes are merely the mirrors through which we look. Seeing, or at least the color of it, is a state of mind."

Tayoga followed him perfectly and nodded.

"You are getting too deep," interrupted the hunter. "Let's be satisfied with our escape. Here, each of you take another piece of venison. I'm glad you still have your bow and arrows, Tayoga, because it won't be long before we'll have to begin looking for another deer."

"The woods swarm with game. It will not be difficult to find one," said
Tayoga.

"But for the present I think we'd better lie close. Of course the chief danger of attack from those savages has passed, but we're some distance from Canada, and it's still doubtful ground. Another wandering band may run upon us and that Ojibway, Tandakora, will never quit hunting us, until a bullet stops him. He has a terrible attack of the scalp fever. We want to make good time on our journey, but we mustn't spoil everything by trying to go too fast."

"It might be wise for us to remain the entire day in the forest," replied the Onondaga. "After the great and long trial of our strength last night, we need much rest. And tonight we can make speed on the river again. What says Lennox?"

"I'm for it," replied Robert, "but I suggest that we go deeper into the forest, taking the canoe with us, and hide our trail. I think I see the gleam of water to our right and if I'm correct it means a brook, up which we can walk carrying the canoe with us."

"A good idea, Robert," said Willet. "Suppose you look first and see if it's really a brook."

The lad returned in a moment or two with a verification. The water of the little stream was clear, but it had a fine sandy bottom on which footprints were effaced in a few seconds. They waded up it nearly a mile until they came to stony ground, when they left the brook and walked on the outcrop or detached stones a considerable distance, passing at last through dense thickets into a tiny open space. They put the canoe down in the center of the opening, which was circular, and stretched their own bodies on the grass close to the bushes, through which they could see without being seen.

"That trail is well hidden," said Willet, "or rather it's no trail at all. It's just about as much trace as a bird leaves, flying through the air."

"Do you know where we are, Dave?" asked Robert.

"We're not so far from the edge of the wilderness. Before long the land will begin to slope down toward the St. Lawrence. But it's all wild enough. The French settlements themselves don't go very far back from the big river. And the St. Lawrence is a mighty stream, Robert. I reckon there's not another such river on the globe. The Mississippi I suppose is longer, and carries more volume to the sea, but the St. Lawrence is full of clear water, Robert, think of that! Most all the other big rivers of the world, I hear, are muddy and yellow, but the St. Lawrence, being the overflow of the big lakes, is pure. Sometimes it's blue and sometimes it's green, according to the sunlight or the lack of it, and sometimes it's another color, but always it's good, fresh water, flowing between mighty banks to the sea, the stream getting deeper and deeper and broader and broader the farther it goes, till beyond Quebec it's five and then ten miles across, and near the ocean it's nigh as wide as Erie or Ontario. I'm always betting on the St. Lawrence, Robert. I haven't been on all the other continents, but I don't believe they can show anything to beat it."

"Have you seen much of the big lakes, Dave?"

"A lot of Erie and Ontario, but not so much of those farther west, Michigan, Huron and Superior, although they're far bigger and grander. Nothing like 'em in the lake line in this world. We don't know much about Superior, but I gather from the Indians that it's nigh to four hundred miles long, and maybe a hundred and fifty miles across in the middle. What a power of water! That's not a lake! It's a fresh-water sea. I've seen Niagara, too, Robert, where the river comes tumbling over two mighty cliffs, and the foam rises up to the sky, and the rainbow is always arching over the chasm below. It's a tremendous sight and it keeps growing on you the longer you look at it. The Indians, who like myths and allegories, have a fine story about it. They say that Heno, to whom Manitou gave charge of the thunderbolt, once lived in the great cave or hollow behind the falls, liking the damp and the eternal roar of the waters. And Manitou to help him keep a watch over all the thunderbolts gave him three assistants who have never been named. Now, the nations of the Hodenosaunee call themselves the grandchildren of Heno, and when they make invocation to him they call him grandfather. But they hold that Heno is always under the direction of Hawenneyu, the Great Spirit, who I take it is the same in their minds as Manitou. The more you learn of the Indians, and especially of the Hodenosaunee, Robert, the more you admire the beauty and power of their minds."

Willet spoke with great earnestness, his own mind through the experiences of many years being steeped in forest lore and imagery. Robert, although he knew less of Indian mythology, nevertheless knew enough to feel for it a great admiration.

"I studied the myths of the Greeks and Romans at Albany," he said, "and
I don't see that they were very much superior to those of the Indians."

"Maybe they weren't superior at all," said Willet, "and I don't believe the Greeks and Romans ever had a country like the one in which we are roaming. The Book says God made the world in six days, and I think He must