Читать книгу Trail and Trading Post; or, The Young Hunters of the Ohio - Stratemeyer Edward - Страница 5
ОглавлениеTRAIL AND TRADING POST
CHAPTER I
A GLIMPSE OF THE PAST
“If we can only get that buffalo, Henry, it will be a feather in our cap.”
“Right you are, Dave. But the animal may be miles and miles away by this time. As you know, they can run a long distance when they are frightened.”
“Oh, yes, I know that well enough,” answered Dave Morris, as he rested for a moment on the paddle he had been using. “I haven’t forgotten the buffalo that once knocked our tent flat and ran away.”
“And I haven’t forgotten how I went after him and nearly lost my life tumbling over the rocks and down the big hill,” added Henry. “I can tell you, I don’t want another such experience!”
“Do you think the buffalo went around the head of the lake?”
“He was headed that way—the last I saw of him. Let us paddle up to the brook and go ashore. If the tracks are there we can follow them: if not, I reckon we’ll have to give up the hunt and content ourselves with some small game.”
“You don’t suppose that there are any unfriendly Indians around,” resumed Dave Morris, after a few minutes of silence, during which time both young hunters applied themselves to the paddles of the canoe they occupied. “I’ve had enough of fighting to last me for a long time to come.”
“There is really no telling about that, the redskins are so treacherous. Down at the fort they seem to think the district for fifty miles around is clear, but Sam Barringford told me to keep my eyes peeled—that there is no telling yet what may happen. The war is over, but Pontiac isn’t dead, and neither is Moon Eye, and a lot more of the other chiefs.”
“Don’t mention Moon Eye to me,” said Dave Morris, with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “That Indian will never forgive me for escaping from him with Nell and the twins. I suppose he’d give a whole lot to get his hands on me again.”
“As for that, he’d like to get his hands on any of the men who fought against him and his followers. The Indians think——Wait, Dave! Turn in to the shore, quick! I just saw the buffalo. He is back of the rocks over yonder!”
The canoe was turned in the direction indicated with all possible speed. Soon it glided under some overhanging bushes, and the paddles were stowed away noiselessly. Then each of the young hunters caught up his flint-lock musket, looked to the priming, to make certain that the weapon was ready for use, and stepped ashore.
“As you saw him first, you lead,” whispered Dave Morris to his companion, and Henry led off, with the other youth close at his heels. Both had their eyes and ears on the alert for whatever might turn up.
As the old readers of this “Colonial Series” know, Dave and Henry Morris were cousins, of about the same age, who when at home lived near Will’s Creek, Virginia—close to where the town of Cumberland now stands. Dave was the only son of a widower, James Morris, who was a well-known trapper and fur trader. Henry came of a more numerous family, he having an older brother Rodney and also a sister Nell, a bright miss of tender years.
In the first three volumes of this series, entitled, respectively, “With Washington in the West,” “Marching on Niagara,” and “At the Fall of Montreal,” I told how Dave worked for the first President of our country when the latter was but a humble surveyor, and how the youth also served under his former employer during the memorable and disastrous Braddock advance on Fort Duquesne—held at that time, 1755, by the French, and located where the prosperous city of Pittsburg stands to-day. This was really the opening of the fourth intercolonial war, and was followed by an attack on Fort Niagara, and then by assaults on Quebec, Montreal, and other points, in which fights both Dave and Henry took active parts, doing their duty as common soldiers to the best of their ability.
With the close of the war between England and France, both of the young soldiers were glad enough to return home, which they did in company with a number of others, including Sam Barringford, a frontiersman who had been their friend through thick and thin, and also White Buffalo, an old chief of the Delawares, who was very friendly with all of the Morrises and who had done them more than one service.
Previous to the war Dave’s father had established a small trading post in what was then considered the “far western country.” This was on the Kinotah, a small but beautiful stream flowing into the Ohio River. The trader had a good deal of trouble with a rascally Frenchman, who claimed the post as his own, and who hired a number of Indians to make war on Mr. Morris, and at last the post had to be abandoned.
“I shall go and re-establish myself in the west,” said James Morris, to his son and to his other relatives, and soon he set forth with a pack-train, as related in the fourth volume of this series, called “On the Trail of Pontiac.” Dave and Henry went with him, and after a number of more or less thrilling adventures, the site of the post was reached. The place had been burned down, and the forest for a long distance around was a mass of blackened tree-stumps. Seeing this, the party journeyed further, presently reaching the Ohio, where a new post was established and held, despite the warlike attitude of Pontiac and many other Indian chiefs. Once the trader and his men had to retreat to Fort Pitt (formerly Fort Duquesne) for protection. A fierce fight was had with the enemy under Jean Bevoir, the rascally French trader who had caused the Morrises so much trouble, and nearly all of the enemy were killed, Bevoir himself being wounded both in the arm and the side.
Pontiac’s first conspiracy against the English had come to naught, but the wily Indian leader was not dismayed, and soon he plotted to fall upon many of the settlements simultaneously. What this led to has been related in detail in the fifth volume of this series, entitled “The Fort in the Wilderness,” Fort Detroit was besieged and likewise Fort Pitt and many other points of lesser importance, and had it not been for the advance of an English army from the east, with victories at Bushy Run and other points, there is no doubt but that the massacre of the settlers would have been appalling. As it was, James Morris had to abandon his new trading post, and he and Henry, with some others, reached Fort Pitt only after a desperate struggle to escape the red men.
Dave, during this trouble, was at the home near Will’s Creek. Here the effects of the uprising were also felt. White Buffalo, the ever-faithful friend, brought word to the Morrises, and they took their flight to Fort Cumberland just in the nick of time.
During a previous winter, when the snow lay deep upon the ground, the old frontiersman, Sam Barringford, had made a curious discovery. Wrapped in a bundle swinging from a tree he had found two boy babies, evidently twins. He had carried the twins to the Morris cabin, where Mrs. Morris had taken care of the babes, who, later on, were named Tom and Artie. Barringford learned through White Buffalo that a Frenchman at Detroit knew something about the twins and he determined to visit the fort, taking Dave with him. The trip brought to light little that was new, but the old frontiersman and the young soldier saw how Fort Detroit was besieged and had much trouble in getting away. Then, in company with Rodney Morris, the two joined the English army marching westward to relieve Fort Pitt. After the battle of Bushy Run Dave was made a prisoner by some Indians under Moon Eye and taken to a village, where, to his surprise, he also found the twins and Nell, they having been stolen some time previous. Watching his chances, the young soldier managed to escape in a canoe during a violent storm, taking the little twins and his cousin with him. Later he was aided by White Buffalo, and though the Indians under Moon Eye did their best to retake their captives, they were soon halted by James Morris, Rodney, Barringford, Henry, and some of the English regulars, and were forced to leave that section of the country. Dave continued on his way to Fort Pitt with his relatives and friends; and there the whole party rested for the time being. In the meantime word was received from the east that matters had quieted down around Will’s Creek, so that Joseph Morris and his wife could return to the old homestead, for which those at the fort were thankful.
“I’d like to be back home myself,” said Rodney. In years gone by he had been almost a cripple and the campaign against the Indians had told greatly upon him.
“I think you had better start before long,” his uncle had answered. “Your father will need you, and besides Nell and the twins must get back.”
While at Fort Pitt the Morrises and Sam Barringford had come in contact with Benoit Vascal, the Frenchman who knew something about the twins. They thought Vascal had stolen the children from their parents, but the Frenchman laid the blame on one Paul Camont, who had been killed by the wolves at the spot where Tom and Artie were found. Benoit Vascal said the children belonged to a Mr. Maurice Hamilton, a gentleman who had visited America to look up some land claims. It was said that Mr. Hamilton had returned to London almost a year before. A letter was sent to England, but in those days it took a long time to cross the ocean, and so far no answer had been received. It had been decided to keep Benoit Vascal a prisoner at Fort Pitt, but the wily Frenchman slipped away and left for parts unknown.
