Books: On the Trail of Pontiac
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Edward Stratemeyer >> On the Trail of Pontiac
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"What is it?" asked Dave eagerly.
"Look fer yourself, lad."
They had gained a portion of the cave that was almost circular in form. In
the center was an immense black stone. On this rested a large pile of
tobacco and several pipes, and beside these were strings of beads and
wampum, and curiously shaped shells and spears. There were likewise some
strings of feathers, and a dozen or more pairs of curiously worked
moccasins. There were also a number of medals, evidently of English design
and workmanship.
"Army medals!" cried Dave, picking one up. "Why, Sam, these must have been
stolen from our soldiers!"
"Taken from our dead heroes most likely," answered the old frontiersman."
It's a curious collection, ain't it, Dave?"
"Cave of the big council," said White Buffalo, pointing to the wampum
strings and belts. "Much magic here."
"These are undoubtedly medals belonging to English soldiers and Royal
Americans," said Dave, "They should be restored to their owners or else to
the government."
"I agree with ye there, lad," answered Barringford. "An' when we leave we
can take 'em along."
CHAPTER XXVIII
AN UNDERGROUND STOREHOUSE
To the Indians, as some of my young readers must know, many wampum belts
were speech belts, usually given as a present when some great message was
delivered. Consequently, White Buffalo looked the belts over with great
interest, certain that they were connected with matters of great
importance.
"Pontiac is as powerful as White Buffalo supposed," said he presently.
Dave and Barringford did not reply, for they had pushed on to another
chamber of the cave. Here was an additional sight that made both cry out
with wonder.
"Didn't expect nuthin' like this, did you, Dave?" queried Barringford.
"Not in the least," answered the young hunter.
The chamber was not very large, but it was literally filled with rifles and
pistols of various sizes and makes, some still bright, and others much
rusted from water and dampness. To the collection were added several
swords, one with a scabbard and the others without. There were also a large
number of powder horns and bullet pouches, and other soldier equipments.
"Where did all this stuff come from?" went on Dave. "It looks like part of
an army outfit."
"Thet's jest wot it is, lad."
"And it must have belonged to our army."
"Right ag'in."
"If Pontiac was in command of the Indians at the time of General Braddock's
defeat, do you suppose he had some of the red men bring this stuff here?"
"That's a question. Either the stuff came from thet place, or else from
some other battle later on. One thing is sartin, there's a fairly good
quantity on it and it ought to be restored."
"What had we best do--tell the commander at Fort Pitt?"
"I reckon thet would be the proper thing to do, Dave."
"I suppose Pontiac thinks to use these guns some day," went on the young
pioneer. "He wanted to hide them until the time came to dig up the hatchet
once more."
"White Buffalo's brother must be right," came from the Indian chief. "In a
war the guns would give the Indians much power."
"Maybe Pontiac told the Indians he would make guns and swords by magic,"
said Dave suddenly.
"It is not impossible," returned White Buffalo gravely. "The magicians have
brought forth powder by magic."
"And so can Pontiac!" shouted Barringford, who had moved to one corner of
the chamber. "Reckon this is a bad place fer a torch," and he held back the
flame,
"What have you discovered now, Sam?"
"Five half-kegs o' powder."
As he spoke the old frontiersman pointed to a rocky shelf whereon rested
the five half-kegs, covered with a piece of heavy drugget, often used in
colonial days in place of rubber cloth.
"Full too," said Dave, after lifting one. "Sam, this stuff is worth a good
bit of money."
"Perhaps we'll git a reward if we return it to the government," was the
answer.
"It ought to be returned, whether we get a reward or not."
"Exactly as I think."
There was a narrow passageway behind the chamber and Sam Barringford
squeezed into this.
"Don't reckon I can make it," he panted presently. "Seems like I was a
leetle too hefty. Dave, do you want to try it? Might be an opening to the
outside world, an' if there is, we won't have to go through thet water
ag'in."
Taking the torch, Dave pushed into the opening, which gradually grew
smaller and smaller until he had to crawl on his hands and knees.
"Tight fit, eh?" called the old frontiersman after him.
"Yes, but it may be larger further on," answered the young pioneer, as he
continued to advance.
Fortunately the passageway was dry, so he had nothing to fear from water.
He progressed fully fifty feet, when he saw a large opening beyond.
"I'm coming to another room!" he shouted back.
But a sharp stone over a foot high barred his further progress. The stone
appeared to be rather loose, and he fancied he could push it out ahead of
him. Laying down the torch, he caught hold of the stone and soon had it
turned from its resting place.
"What are you doing?" called Barringford.
"Getting a stone out of my way."
"You jest be careful how you loosen up these stones," returned the old
frontiersman quickly. "The dirt don't seem to be none too hard, an'--"
Whatever else Sam Barringford said was lost upon Dave, for at that moment
down came a quantity of dirt on the young pioneer which almost buried him.
He attempted to back out the way he had come, but just as he was about to
move, more dirt fell in that direction, followed by half a dozen large
stones. Then, to avoid being completely caught, he pushed on ahead and by
tight squeezing forced his way into the chamber beyond.
The fall of stones and dirt was as dismaying as it was perilous. Looking
into the passageway, torch in hand, Dave saw that it was now completely
choked. To get out by the way he had come was impossible. He was virtually
entombed alive!
A shiver went over him and he called to Sam Barringford with all the power
of his youthful lungs. To his intense dismay, no answer came back, showing
that the fall of dirt and stones had been greater than anticipated.
"They'll surely try to dig me out," he thought. "But it may take a whole
day, and in the meantime--"
He did not finish, but his heart sank within him. He examined the
passageway once more and shouted as before. He fancied he heard an answer,
but was not certain.
Looking about him, the young pioneer saw that he was in a cavern not over
twenty feet square. Beyond was a tall split in the rocks which seemed to
run upwards.
"That may lead to daylight," he thought. "Anyway, I might as well try it as
stay here."
His torch was now burning so low he could no longer hold it. He looked
around for something else with which to continue the light, but nothing was
at hand. He rested the torch on a rock, and a few minutes later it
fluttered up and went out, leaving him in total darkness.
It was a truly horrible situation and Dave's heart sank like a lump of lead
in his bosom. For the time being all hope of escape appeared to be cut off.
He shouted again and again, but could get no reply.
"Of course they'll do their best to dig me out," he reasoned, "but they
have no tools, and the passageway was very small anyway. If the rocks are
wedged in, all the power they can bring to bear won't budge them."
He felt around the chamber and soon found himself at the split in the
rocks. He entered it for a distance of a few yards and then came back to
the point from which he had started.
"It would be foolish to go into that in the dark," he thought. "I might
fall into some ugly hole, or have worse luck. I'll stay here and see what
comes."
He sat down and gave himself up to his reflections. They were rather
bitter. He now realized how tired he was, and not long after this sank into
merciful slumber.
When Dave awoke all was still dark around him. How long he had slept he
could not tell, but he knew it must have been for some time, for he felt
wonderfully refreshed. Getting up, he stretched himself, and his eyes roved
around the chamber.
A single streak of light caught his eye, coming from the split he had
failed to examine. He approached the split once more and saw that the light
was stronger a short distance beyond, so strong in fact that he could see
the surface of the rocks and dirt.
"It must be morning, and that must lead to the outer world," he told
himself. "Can it be possible I have spent the whole night down here?"
The dampness had made him stiff in the joints, but to this he paid no
attention. His one thought was to reach the top of the earth again. Feeling
his way with care, he entered the split in the rocks and slowly climbed
from one projection to another. The rocks came to an end amid the roots of
a large tree, and in a few minutes more Dave was pulling himself up among
the roots and into the open air.
The glorious sunshine struck full in his face as he emerged, to find
himself on something of a sweeping hill, dotted here and there with trees
and brushwood. His heart gave a leap for joy. Inwardly he thanked God for
his safe deliverance from perils underground.
"Now to find my way back to the waterfall and let Sam and White Buffalo
know that I am safe," he told himself. "But first I had better mark this
spot, so that I can find it again."
With his hunting knife he started to make a blaze upon the tree. It was
easily done, and he turned around to make certain of the locality.
Then, like lightning from a clear sky, came an attack as sudden as it was
unexpected. Two forms leaped from behind some neighboring bushes. They were
Indians and one held a tomahawk in his hand. With the flat of this he
struck Dave a blow on the head, knocking him down.
"Don't!" gasped the young pioneer, when a second blow descended, giving him
a shock he could not withstand. He stretched out his arms, and then rolled
over on his back, senseless.
[Illustration: "'Tis one of the English," said the taller of the Indians.]
"'Tis one of the English," said the taller of the Indians, in his native
language. "We were right to set a watch here."
"And what shall be done with him?" questioned the second. "Pontiac cares
not for the scalp of a stripling."
"It shall be for Pontiac to answer," was the reply. "Bind him to yonder
tree. There may be more to come forth, like foxes from their holes."
Without ceremony Dave's limp body was dragged into a thicket and fastened
to a tree. Then the two Indians went back to renew their watch. This
continued for the best part of an hour.
At the end of that time three other Indians appeared, including
Foot-in-His-Mouth. The latter listened intently to what had happened.
"The fight is over," he said. "Two Indians are dead, and a white man and a
Delaware squaw named White Buffalo have retreated in the direction of Fort
Pitt. Let us away from here without delay, for I must report this new
happening to Pontiac."
"And the stripling, what of him?"
"Bring him along."
Dave was just returning to his senses when the Indians shook him roughly. A
scalping knife was brandished before his eyes, and he was given to
understand that he must either walk with them or suffer death.
"Where are you going to take me?" he asked, when he felt strong enough to
speak.
This question the Indians would not answer. But two of them shoved him
roughly, and he was compelled to walk to where a number of horses were in
waiting. With his hands tied behind him, and his head aching severely, he
was mounted on one of the animals, and the entire party set off northward
through the forest.
"If only Sam was here," thought the young pioneer dismally. He did not know
that a fierce hand-to-hand conflict had taken place near the waterfall, and
that Barringford and White Buffalo had barely escaped with their lives, yet
such was a fact.
The ride was a rough and hard one for Dave, and long before it came to an
end he was ready to sink into a faint from exhaustion. Every time he reeled
in the saddle one of the red men would shove him up roughly, or prick him
with the end of a scalping knife.
At last the Indians called a halt at the foot of a small cliff. They
dismounted and forced Dave to the ground, and the entire party ascended to
the top of the cliff. Here was a well-defined path, and along this they
journeyed for a short distance, coming out presently at a point where there
was a small sheet of water, fed by several brooks. On the edge of the
pond--it can scarcely be called a lake--was an Indian village containing
perhaps a hundred inhabitants. It was known as Shanorison, and here dwelt
an aged chief named Mamuliekala, looked up to by many of the red men
because he had once made a trip to Boston and to England. Mamuliekala never
ceased to tell of the wonders of the land across the ocean, but only a
handful of the red men believed all he said, contending that the English
and the rolling of the ship on the ocean had cast a spell over his mind, so
that his eyes had deceived him.
Having been brought into Shanorison, Dave was brought before one of the
under chiefs, and his captors told their tale. The talking was in a dialect
the young pioneer could not understand, and he was asked no questions. Then
one of the Indians took him by the arm and led him away.
"What are you going to do with me?" asked the youth.
"Hold white young man a prisoner," was the answer.
"What for?"
"The white young man must tell Pontiac how he came into the cave under the
waterfall."
"Did you see any other white people there?"
"Moon Head cannot answer that question," said the Indian.
In the center of the village was a small and rather dirty wigwam, and in
this Dave was placed. His hands were kept fastened behind him, and also
tied to a short post in the center of the shelter.
"If the young man attempts to escape, he will be killed like a dog," said
the Indian, on departing.
"When will Pontiac be here?" called Dave after him, but to this the red man
made no reply. He stalked away, letting the flap of the wigwam close after
him.
If Dave felt sick in body, he was doubly so in mind. The expedition to the
east had come to a sudden and unexpected termination, and what was to be
the real end of the adventure there was no telling. Certain it was that
Pontiac would be very angry when he learned that the secret he and his
followers had guarded so closely was known to the English, and Dave felt
that it might go very hard with him in consequence.
"Perhaps they'll burn me at the stake, or do something equally bad," he
thought dismally. "I must say, I wish I was out of it. I wonder if I can't
manage to escape?"
CHAPTER XXIX
PONTIAC'S TRAIL ONCE MORE
The fight between the Indians and the party under Barringford and White
Buffalo had been short and sharp. Finding they could not open the
passageway to the chamber in which Dave was, as they supposed, entombed
alive, the old frontiersman and the Indian chief had returned to the outer
world, hoping to find another entrance to the cave. In the midst of the
search the enemy had fallen upon them, and the slaughter of the Indians
under White Buffalo had occurred.
Pontiac's braves had suffered also, but to what extent Barringford and
White Buffalo could not tell. Barringford was wounded in both the thigh and
the back, but fortunately neither hurt was serious. White Buffalo received
a bullet through the forearm and a cut from a tomahawk, yet with the
adroitness of his race he managed to flee with the old frontiersman, and
both, after much difficulty, managed to elude their pursuers.
"We must return to Fort Pitt and tell the commander there of what has
happened," said Barringford, and White Buffalo agreed. Their horses were
gone, so they had to return on foot, the journey taking them two days.
Fort Pitt, it may be mentioned here, was at the time commanded by Captain
Simeon Ecuyer, a brave officer, of Swiss birth, who had served the colonies
well for years. He listened to Barringford's tale with close attention and
keen interest.
"I have suspected something of this sort for a long while," he said. "It
was known that many guns and pistols were stolen at the time of General
Braddock's defeat, and also during the battles further to the north. I will
send out a party at once, and if we can capture the Indians I will see to
it that justice is done."
"Bring along picks and spades," said the old frontiersman. "We must save
Dave Morris, if the deed is possible."
A company eighteen strong and fully armed left the fort that very noon. Two
sharpshooters were in advance, but none of the enemy put in an appearance.
Arriving at the waterfall, they found the spot totally deserted. Roaming
the forest were two of the horses and these were easily captured, and,
later on, one more animal was secured.
"Well, this beats anything I have ever seen!" declared the lieutenant who
was in command of the soldiers, after following Barringford into the cave.
"It's a perfect treasure house."
"Pray do me the kindness to lose no time in clearing out that passageway,"
responded Barringford, and under his directions the soldiers set to work
with picks and spades and various other entrenching tools to remove the
fallen rocks and dirt.
It was a hard task, but inside of three hours the way was cleared and
Barringford crawled through, followed by White Buffalo.
"Gone!" murmured the old frontiersman, with a sigh of relief. "I am mighty
glad of it."
"White Buffalo glad too," returned the Indian chief simply. "Let us look
for his trail."
Plenty of torches were at hand and also a lantern, making the rocky chamber
almost as bright as day. With ease the Indian chief traced Dave's footsteps
to the split in the rocks, and then hauled himself out through the opening
by the tree roots, followed by Barringford.
"This is the way he got out," said the old frontiersman. "But why didn't he
return to the waterfall?"
"Fight here," was the red man's answer, pointing to the footprints in the
soil. "Two Indians come up behind Dave. Come!"
They left the vicinity, and soon both reached the conclusion that the young
pioneer had been carried away a prisoner.
"But where did they take him to?" questioned Barringford.
"We must follow the trail," was all White Buffalo could answer.
A conference was held with the lieutenant, and it was decided that the
whole party should follow the trail.
"We can come back to the cave for the goods later," said Lieutenant
Peterson. "We certainly must rescue young Morris and make an example of
those who have carried him off."
It was no light task to follow the Indian trail through the woods. With all
the cuteness of which they were capable, the followers of Pontiac had taken
to a shallow stream for over quarter of a mile, and before the trail could
be discovered again night came on. They tried to keep up the hunt with
torches, but it was of no avail.
"Beaten," muttered Barringford, and his eyes grew moist. "Poor Dave! What
will become of him?"
With the coming of morning the lieutenant decided to return to the
waterfall. An examination was made, and it was found to be an easy task to
make the water flow in another direction, thus leaving the main entrance to
the cave a dry one. Without delay the things inside were removed, and
loaded on horses. In this manner everything was sooner or later removed to
Fort Pitt.
"I shall report to the authorities without delay," said Captain Ecuyer.
"More than likely you will be well rewarded for this discovery." But no
reward was ever received.
"Never mind the reward," answered Barringford. "I want to find Dave
Morris."
"At present I cannot send out another detachment, Barringford. But I will
do so in a few days."
"Then I'll take time by the forelock and let his father know what has
happened."
"I believe I should do so, were I in your place."
Barringford had had his wounds washed and dressed, and, mounted on a fresh
horse, he lost no time in riding back to the trading-post on the Ohio.
White Buffalo did not go with him, stating he would renew the hunt for the
lost trail.
It was Henry who met the old frontiersman at the stockade gate.
"What's wrong?" he questioned quickly. "Where is Dave?"
Before Barringford had time to answer, James Morris showed himself.
"Something has gone wrong!" he cried. "I can see it in your face. What is
it?"
"We had a brush with the Indians,--part of Pontiac's party," said the old
frontiersman.
"And Dave?"
"We think he was made a prisoner," went on Barringford, and then told his
story in detail.
"And you say White Buffalo has gone out again to look for the lost trail?"
questioned the trader.
"Yes. He'll find it, too, if it is to be done. I thought you'd like to
know, so that you could go out with me and the soldiers."
"Yes! yes!"
"I'd like to go myself, Uncle James," put in Henry.
"One of us ought to remain at the post, Henry. I do not like to leave it in
the hands of strangers."
"But they are not all strangers," pleaded Henry. "Some of the men we know
very well. We can leave Sanderson in charge. He knows what to do, and so
does Jadwin."
"Well, I'll see about it," said Mr. Morris.
As Barringford was hungry, a hasty meal was prepared for him, and then the
Morrises had a talk with Sanderson, Jadwin, and some of the others. As a
result, Sanderson said he would take charge of the trading-post for a week
or longer, if necessary, and Jadwin said he would also remain close at
hand, in case he was wanted.
This left Henry free to join Mr. Morris and Barringford in the hunt for
Dave, and the young pioneer was not long in preparing himself for the
expedition. Fresh horses were obtained, and the party set off early the
following morning, when the sun had not yet shown itself over the rolling
hills to the eastward.
The day had promised fair, but about noon the sky grew dark very suddenly,
and soon after this came a flurry of snow, followed by a heavy wind which
tore through the trees of the forest with a mighty roar, hurling more than
one trunk to the ground. Broken branches fell in all directions, one
hitting Henry on the head and scaring his steed so that the animal could
scarcely be controlled.
"I must say I don't like this much!" panted the young pioneer, as he reined
in the horse. "What is it, a tornado?"
"We'll have to get behind some rocks for the present," declared
Barringford, and this was done. The fierce wind continued for half an hour
longer and then subsided. More snow followed, but then came sunshine, as
bright and fair as one would wish.
"Only a squall after all," said James Morris. "But it was heavy while it
lasted."
When the party arrived at Fort Pitt they found the soldiers ready to go out
once more. But nothing had been heard of White Buffalo, which all thought
rather strange.
"Perhaps he has failed to recover the trail," said James Morris
sorrowfully. "With all his sagacity, White Buffalo cannot do the
impossible."
"Do you think it impossible to recover such a trail?" asked Lieutenant
Peterson.
"He'll find it--if you give him time enough," put in Barringford
confidently. "No Injun better nor White Buffalo on a trail."
"I believe that," said Henry. "He's as smart as they make 'em."
Two hours after this White Buffalo came in. He was plainly tired out, but
his face brightened on seeing the whites he knew so well.
"White Buffalo has found the trail," he announced. "It leads to the village
of Shanorison, where lives the old chief Mamuliekala, the Great Water Bear.
Mamuliekala and Pontiac are like brothers. They have made Dave their
prisoner."
"Do you know where Dave is now?"
"White Buffalo has not seen his white brother, but thinks Dave is at the
village, or close to it. But we must hurry, for soon Pontiac and his braves
will go northward, to the land of the Wyandots and the Ottawas."
"Will they take Dave, or kill him?" asked Henry.
At this the Indian chief shrugged his shoulders.
"Who can answer for the future?" he said briefly.
"Let us be on the way!" cried James Morris impatiently. "An hour lost may
mean much to my son!"
"Did the Indians at the village see you?" questioned Captain Ecuyer of the
Indian chief.
"No, White Buffalo showed not himself, for it would not have been wise."
While the soldiers were preparing for the new expedition, the Indian chief
was given food and drink, after which he said he felt much better. He was
provided with a fresh horse to mount, and said he would take a nap in the
saddle, a common trick even among red men of to-day. This may appear
strange to some of my young readers, but in our army it is well known that
men have slept both in the saddle and while on the march!
When the soldiers were assembled, Captain Ecuyer addressed them briefly:
"Men," said he, "you are embarking on rather a dangerous mission. I am
sorry I cannot be with you, but it is my duty to remain at the fort, for
there may be a general uprising, of which we know nothing. I expect every
man to obey Lieutenant Peterson thoroughly, and I want all to do their duty
to the uttermost. If you can avoid bloodshed do so, but do not let Pontiac
or his followers lead you into any trap. If you are needed at the fort I
shall send a messenger after you, and then you must return with all
possible speed, for, no matter what else happens, Fort Pitt must not be
taken from us."
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