Stratemeyer Edward
Marching on Niagara: or, The Soldier Boys of the Old Frontier

CHAPTER XVI
BACK TO WINCHESTER

At last the battle seemed to be at an end. Only a few shots sounded out and they came from a distance. The fire in the forest had died down and, thanks to an all-powerful Providence it had failed to give the Indians the success they had sought. It was true a number of the pioneers and soldiers had been badly wounded, but none were killed, while on the other hand seven redskins had been laid low.

All was in a hopeless confusion, and it was not until daylight came that Captain Tanner and the others succeeded in straightening matters out. Many of the women and children had fled into the forest and these had to be hunted up, while some of the pioneers had followed the enemy on their private account and did not return until they felt the Indians were sufficiently beaten back.

When Dave recovered from his forced traveling his first anxiety was for his uncle, who had fainted away from a fresh loss of blood. As well as he was able, the youth bound up the wound once more, tearing off a sleeve of his shirt for that purpose.

While he was at work several alarms sounded close to him, and he held his breath, expecting to be discovered at any instant. But the Indians passed him on both sides with a speed that showed him they were now thinking only of retreat.

With the first streak of daylight he looked around him and at a distance discovered two rangers on horseback. They were rounding up the pioneers and their families and they readily consented to assist him all in their power.

"Reckon Mr. Morris is in a pretty bad way," said one of the soldiers. "The knocking around didn't do his wound no good."

"That's just the trouble," answered Dave. "But I did the best I could under the circumstances. I didn't want the Indians to scalp him."

"Oh, you did mighty well, lad – mighty well. Come, I'll take him up on my hoss."

The ranger carried the helpless man with care and soon Dave and his uncle reached the spot to which all the pioneers were coming. As soon as she caught sight of them, Mrs. Morris came running forward.

"Oh, Dave, how is he?" she questioned.

"Not any better, Aunt Lucy," he responded, soberly. "I think you'll have to keep him very quiet after this."

"Did you see anything of Nell?"

"No. Is she gone?"

"Yes. Henry and your father are out looking for her."

"It's too bad! I hope they find her soon."

Dave felt very weak and gladly partook of some soup which several of the women in the camp had made.

The youth was just finishing the repast when his father and Henry came back, looking much disheartened.

"Did she come back?" questioned both, and then as Mrs. Morris shook her head, not daring to trust herself to speak, James Morris continued: "It's too bad! I can't believe it possible that the Indians carried her off."

"Yes! yes! They must have carried her off!" sobbed Mrs. Morris. "My poor darling Nell! Oh, what will those wretches do with her!" And she burst into a flood of tears.

Rodney had just come up, and all turned in to console her as best they could. Yet they could say but little to soothe her sorely wounded heart. Even Dave found the tears standing in his eyes, for he loved little Nell as much as if she were his own sister.

When it came time to count those who had been in the expedition it was found that two other girls besides little Nell were missing – twins named Mary and Bertha Rose, the children of a pioneer who lived fifteen miles to the north of the Morris homestead. Mrs. Rose was as grief-stricken as Mrs. Morris, and both wept together when they met.

"I shall remain behind to see if I can't find some trace of all the children," said James Morris.

"And I'll do the same," said Nelson Rose. "I would rather give up my life than leave my two girls in the Indians' power."

"Reckon as how I'll stay behind with ye," put in Sam Barringford. Although he never admitted it, little Nell was very dear to the old frontiersman's heart.

"White Buffalo will also look for little Bright-face," said the Indian chief. "But he is much afraid the French Indians have carried all three of the maidens off."

So it was decided, and when the expedition moved off the three white men and the Indian with his followers were left behind. Captain Tanner and Lieutenant Baldwick were now pretty certain that the Indians would not make another attack in a hurry, and this was why he readily consented to spare them. Although he said nothing, Uriah Risley also remained behind, to see if he could not learn something concerning his wife.

Owing to the condition of the wounded the onward march to Winchester was now slower than ever, and when night came only half the distance to that frontier town had been covered. But a messenger had been sent ahead and now several wagons came out to carry in the disabled on the following day. This made the remainder of the journey less of a hardship for Joseph Morris, and while he did not improve neither did he seem to grow worse.

The news of the massacre, as it was called, had spread in all directions, and when the pioneers reached Winchester they found the post alive with many others who had come in from all points of the compass, some with all of their belongings and others with nothing but the clothing on their backs. As a consequence every cabin and house was filled to overflowing, and it was only by good luck that the Morrises obtained shelter at the cabin of an intimate friend named Maurice Gibson. Gibson himself was a trader like James Morris, and his wife Abigail and Mrs. Lucy Morris had been old schoolmates.

Joseph Morris was placed on a comfortable bed and without delay a surgeon was called to attend him. The medical man probed his wound and had it thoroughly washed, and then left a strong tonic as a medicine.

"I think he will recover before long," said the doctor. "But he must remain quiet until the wound is thoroughly healed. If not fever may set in and then I will not be responsible for the consequences."

"He shall remain here as long as he pleases," said Maurice Gibson. "And his family also;" and so it was settled.

Of course Mrs. Morris felt relieved to think that her husband would recover, but she could not forget her little daughter, and as she thought of Nell in the hands of the Indians the silent tears would course down her cheeks in spite of all she could do to stay them.

"It is awful, awful!" she said to Dave. "Oh, I would give my right hand to know that she was safe!"

"I'd give a good deal myself, Aunt Lucy," he returned. "But keep up your courage. Father, and Barringford, and White Buffalo will do all in their power to bring her back to us."

Two days of anxiety passed in the town and then it was reported that the majority of the hostile Indians had retreated in the direction of Fort Duquesne, to join the French located at that stronghold. Some of the regulars had followed a portion of the enemy and brought down three braves at what was called Three Posts. Among these Indians thus laid low was Crooked Nose, a half brother to Spotted Tail, a celebrated chief of that time.

"And still no trace of Nell," sighed Mrs. Morris, when the news came in. "Dave, did you hear anything of your father?"

"Not a word, Aunt Lucy."

"I hope he is safe."

"Oh, you can trust him to take care of himself – especially when Barringford and White Buffalo are with him. I think they'll bring us some certain news when they return."

But none of the party did return, and at the end of a week even Dave grew anxious. By this time Joseph Morris felt strong enough to do a little talking although he was not allowed to move further than was absolutely necessary.

Even though there were no telegraph lines in those days, it did not take the news long to travel throughout the length and breadth of Virginia and her neighboring states, and it was felt on all sides that that whole territory would not be safe from Indian and French raids so long as Fort Duquesne remained in the hands of the French.

"Give me the authority and men to march against that fort and take possession and our frontier will be at peace," wrote Colonel Washington. "But the longer we delay the more dangerous will this situation become to us." These are not his exact words but they are the gist of numerous communications which he addressed to those in authority over him.

Two weeks later James Morris came in, pale and careworn, having traveled a distance of several hundred miles in half a dozen directions, on a hunt for little Nell and the Rose twins.

"We found traces of them, but that is all," he said. "They are undoubtedly in the hands of the Indians, who are taking them either to Fort Duquesne or else northward to Lake Erie. I left Mr. Rose, Barringford and the Indians still looking for them. I was anxious to learn how it was going with brother Joseph and the rest of you."

"But you will go back – you won't give up the hunt so soon?" pleaded Mrs. Morris.

"Yes, I will go out again," answered Dave's father. "Just as soon as I can have one square meal and one good night's sleep."

The meal was speedily forthcoming, and the trader went to bed at seven that evening and did not awaken until noon of the next day. Then he declared that he felt as if he had been made new all over, and two hours later, bidding the others good-bye, set off to continue his search. It was a long while before Dave saw his father again.

CHAPTER XVII
A NEW CAMPAIGN

As already told, affairs in the colonies looked blue indeed, and some hardy pioneers who had risked their all in making their homes in this new country were afraid that ere long they would be forced to either give in to the Indians or come under French rule. Three campaigns had been fought, and still the French were masters, and held Louisburg, Crown Point, Ticonderoga, Frontenac, and the long chain of posts from Niagara to the Ohio and thence to the Mississippi. The English fort at Oswego had been destroyed and the French had compelled the Six Nations, the most powerful Indian organization ever known, either to remain neutral or else give them aid.

To add to English alarm, the war in Europe also took a turn in favor of the French. This brought a storm of protests upon the English ministry, and George II. was compelled to make a change. As a consequence William Pitt was placed in entire control of foreign and colonial affairs.

Pitt was a man of both wisdom and action, and his plans for a new campaign in America aroused the colonies as they had not been aroused before. An army of fifty thousand men, English regulars and colonial militia, was gathered, and it was resolved that a three-headed campaign should be instituted at once, one against Louisburg, another against Ticonderoga and a third against Fort Duquesne.

The first blow was struck early in June, 1758, when the English appeared before Louisburg with thirty-eight ships of war and an army of fourteen thousand men. There was a vigorous attack, and something of a siege, and late in July the place capitulated, and this fall also included the capture of the islands of Prince Edward and Cape Breton.

The advance upon Ticonderoga was not so successful, although a portion of the troops under gallant Israel Putnam, afterwards so famous in the Revolution, dispersed some of the French and captured a hundred and forty-eight prisoners. Following this, an attack was made upon Fort Frontenac, located where the city of Kingston, Canada, is now situated, and here the English laid the fort in ruins and captured nine vessels carrying guns and supplies.

The people of Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania were anxious that the attack on Fort Duquesne be made at once, but as we already know, the armies, especially such as had to march through the wilderness, moved very slowly. The command of this expedition was placed in the hands of General Forbes, a gallant officer but one who was far from being in proper health for such an undertaking. This general left Philadelphia early in July with the main portion of his command, and after a hard march reached Raytown, ninety miles eastward of Fort Duquesne, and now known as Bedford.

While General Forbes was thus moving westward Colonel Washington, who had been ordered to join the main command, gathered together all his available troops and moved northward from Winchester to Fort Cumberland, called in these pages by its, then, common name of Will's Creek.

The spring had passed slowly to those of the Morris family located at Winchester. Strange to say although Joseph Morris' wound healed it seemed next to impossible for the pioneer to get back his strength, and the most he could do was to walk around the rooms of the Gibson home, or around the dooryard, supported by his wife or others.

"My legs won't support me," he said. "They feel as if they'd let me down in a heap at any minute."

"It is the effects of the fever," said Mrs. Morris. "The doctor says you will have to take it easy for several months."

Rodney, too, had suffered from the march through the forest and from the fighting and was confined more or less to the house.

"It's a shame – and just after I thought I was getting so strong," sighed the cripple. "Somehow, we seem to be an ill-fated family."

During all those dreary months no direct word had come to them concerning little Nell, but through White Buffalo had come a report that a certain tribe of Indians known as the Little Waters had several white girls in their keeping and that one old Indian chief had taken one of the captives as his daughter, he being childless.

"If they take 'em in as their children they'll treat 'em putty civil-like," said Sam Barringford. "But I reckon you don't want to lose little Nell even so."

"No! no!" said Mrs. Morris. "Oh, we must get her back somehow!"

After this news was brought in, Barringford and Dave's father went north-westward once more, in the hope of opening negotiations with the Indians. How this trip would turn out was still a question, although White Buffalo declared that little could be done so long as the war hatchet remained unburied between the English and the French Indians.

As soon as the new call came for additional troops to the colonial militia, Dave signified his intention of once more entering the service under his old commander, Colonel Washington. About this he did not hesitate to see Washington personally.

"I'll be glad to have you with us," said Washington, after the youth had explained matters. "I remember how you acted in our other campaign against Fort Duquesne, and I haven't forgotten, Master David, how we shot the bear," – this with a twinkle in his eye. "Yes, join us by all means if you care to do so." And Dave signed the muster roll that day, – as a colonial militiaman, at a salary of ten-pence a day, twopence to be deducted for clothing and other necessaries! This was the regular rate of pay, and for those days was considered quite fair.

It must be confessed that the troops under Colonel Washington formed a motley collection. Many of the best of the pioneers and frontiersmen had grown tired of the delays in the past and now refused to re-enlist, fearful that they would be called on to do nothing but wait around the fort, while the summer harvests at home demanded their attention. Drumming up recruits proved the hardest kind of work, and the companies were made up in some cases of men who knew not the meaning of home life – hardy trappers and traders, some industrious enough, but others given to drink and brawling, and not a few who lived almost as the Indians did, using the redmen's style of dress and occasionally painting their faces, "jes' fer the sport on't," as they expressed it. When it came to fighting these men were like human tigers, but in camp and on the march it was next to impossible to bring them under military discipline. Many refused to carry rations as the regular soldiers did, preferring to bring down game as they needed it, and if game was not handy they appropriated a pig or a cow belonging to some settler – thus bringing additional trouble on the command.

"So you are going with the soldiers," said Henry, when Dave told him of what he had done. "Well, if you go I shall go too – that is, if mother will let me."

Henry put in the proviso with an anxious look on his face, for he knew how difficult would be his task of getting his parent's consent.

"No, no, Henry!" cried Mrs. Morris. "With your father and Rodney so ill, and with Nell gone, how can I spare you?"

"But, mother, somebody has got to fight the French," insisted the son. "If we don't fight them, and whip them, how shall we ever get back to our home? I don't want to give all that up, do you?"

A long argument followed, and at last Mrs. Morris said she would let her son know about it in the morning.

White Buffalo came in that night with news. "The Little Waters have gone to the setting sun, to the French," he said. "White Buffalo has been told they will remain there until winter comes again."

"To Fort Duquesne!" cried Dave. "I'm glad of it. Now if we take that fort perhaps we'll be able to rescue Nell and the Rose twins."

This news decided Mrs. Morris, and with tears standing in her eyes she told Henry he might go with Dave and Colonel Washington. "And may God grant that you return with Nell safe and sound," she added.

A few days later found the two young soldiers on the march. It was something of a gala day for Winchester, and the post was gay with flags and bunting. The long drums rolled and the fifes piped up cheerily as the command passed out of the town and on the trail running northward to Cumberland. Many were in the best of spirits, hoping that the downfall of Fort Duquesne would be speedily accomplished.

The town was scarcely left behind however, before the music came to an end, and the command moved on by the route step – that is, every soldier stepping out to suit himself. This was necessary, for the way was rough, having fallen into disuse since the beginning of the troubles with the Indians.

"I heard a report that we are not to use the old Braddock road to Fort Duquesne," said Henry, as he trudged alongside of Dave. "Colonel Washington advised using it, but General Forbes is going to cut a road of his own."

"If he does that we'll be all fall and winter getting to the fort," answered Dave. "How foolish not to use a road already made."

"It's queer they won't take Colonel Washington's advice. He knows this territory better than anybody."

"There is a good deal of military jealousy afloat," was the answer. "English officers hate to see a colonial get ahead of them. They want to head the whole game."

The second night out the troops encamped near a large brook. It was hot and Dave and Henry were glad enough to take a swim in the stream as soon as they got the chance. They were soon in the water and diving and sporting to their heart's content. Then Henry caught a branch hanging over the water's edge and pulled himself up into the tree.

"See what a fine dive I can take from here," he called to his cousin.

"Don't you do it," cried Dave. "You may go too deep and strike your head on a rock."

"I'll be careful," was Henry's answer. "Here goes!"

With a quick movement he leaped from one limb to another. As the second limb gave a sudden swish Henry uttered a cry of alarm. Then he came tumbling into the water with a loud splash. After him tumbled a wildcat, snarling in rage at being thus unceremoniously disturbed. The wildcat struck close to where Dave was treading water and on the instant made a leap for the young soldier's shoulder.

CHAPTER XVIII
WILDCAT AND WATER

Dave was both startled and alarmed when the wildcat came down almost on top of his bare head, and even more frightened when the beast made a leap for his naked shoulder. He had had several experiences with wildcats and knew them to be both powerful and bloodthirsty.

By instinct more than reason he dived and went down as far as possible. As soon as the water closed over the wildcat's head it let go its hold and began to swim for the shore.

Henry was directly in the path of the beast and in a second more, ere the young soldier had time to think of diving, the wildcat was on his back, sinking its cruel nails deeply into his flesh.

"Get off!" screamed Henry. "Get off! Help! help!"

And then he went down, not because he thought of doing so, but because he could not bear the weight. The stream closed over him and he went directly to the bottom.

This time the wildcat did not let go its hold. It clung desperately and when Henry tried to shake it off it only sunk its nails deeper into his flesh. Mechanically he started to scream, when the water rushed into his mouth, almost strangling him on the spot.

By this time Dave had reached the surface, and the rings and bubbles showed him plainly where Henry and the wildcat had gone down. With swift strokes he swam to the river bank, just as several rangers came running to the scene.

"Did you call for help?" asked one.

"A wildcat!" panted Dave, hardly able to speak, and he pointed out into the stream. "Sa – save my cousin!"

"So a cat has attacked him, eh?" said one of the rangers. He raised his gun. "Don't see anything of the critter."

Just as he finished speaking there was a splash in the water and the head of the wildcat appeared. Then up came Henry, and they saw that the beast still clung to the young hunter's back.

It was a risky shot to take, for youth and beast floundered around furiously. But something had to be done, and in a second one gun-shot rang out, followed quickly by another. The aims of both rangers had been true, and the wildcat was struck in the forequarter and in the head. With a snarl and a sputter it let go its hold of Henry and splashed madly around in the water.

No cry came from Henry, but as soon as the beast had let go its hold he sank beneath the surface once more, too weak to do anything toward saving himself.

"He'll be drowned!" muttered Dave. "Save him!" And without waiting he plunged in the river once more.

He felt deathly weak himself, but the thought that his cousin might be lost forever nerved him on. With set teeth he swam to the spot. Catching sight of Henry's arm as it was thrown up, he grabbed at the member and clung fast.

"Henry, hold to me," he managed to say, but his cousin paid no attention, for he was more than half insensible. Then Dave tried to raise him up, but the weight was more than he could sustain.

"Help us, somebody!" the young hunter managed to call out, and there followed a splash, as one of the rangers leaped into the river. Another shot rang out, a finishing one for the wildcat, and the carcass of the beast floated down the river and out of sight among the bushes lining the opposite bank.

By the time the ranger came up, Dave was nearly as far gone as Henry. The old soldier was a powerful fellow and easily brought both to the bank, which was only a short distance off. Here Dave sank down in a heap, while the other soldiers did what they could to revive Henry.

The report that a wildcat had attacked some bathers quickly spread throughout the camp and many flocked in that direction to learn the particulars. Both Dave and Henry were given the best of attention, and by the following morning each said he was able to resume his duties. But both were stiff from the treatment received from the wild beast and on Henry's neck were deep scratches which he was destined to carry with him to the grave.

"After this I'm going to be mighty particular where I bathe," he said to Dave, when on the march.

"Yes, and particular where you dive from," returned Dave. "If you see another wildcat on your spring-board better let him finish his nap without disturbing him."

The march to Cumberland was more difficult than had been anticipated, and the young soldiers were glad when it came to an end and they found themselves encamped just outside of the fort, which both had visited more than once when on a trip to Will's Creek. Soldiers were coming in from all directions, and soon the camp was full to overflowing.

"Wonder how long we'll stay here," said Henry, after they had been at Cumberland over a week. "I had an idea we were to march straight on to Fort Duquesne."

"There is some trouble over that new road to the fort," answered Dave. "I understand Colonel Washington is awfully cut up over it. He thinks they ought to use the old Braddock road and polish up the Frenchmen in short order."

"It was the delay that brought on defeat before, that's certain, Dave. It's a pity the British generals won't take Washington's advice."

What Dave said about trouble over the road was true. The Braddock road, originally selected by the Indians, was as good as any to be had or made, yet despite all arguments against it, it was decided to cut a new road through to Fort Duquesne from Raytown. It was true such a road would be a little shorter than the old road, but to cut it would take all summer and to keep up the campaign during the winter would be well-nigh out of the question.

When a part of the colonial troops, including the company to which Dave and Henry were attached, reached Raytown they found the new road already started, with two hundred men engaged in cutting down trees, removing big stones, and burning brushwood. This was kept up week after week, and in the meantime the troops suffered greatly through sickness and lack of proper food. Many of the colonials grew disgusted at the slow progress of the campaign and would have gone home had not the military regulations forbidden it.

It was in the midst of this that Sam Barringford came in and hunted up Henry and Dave. "Thought you'd like to set eyes on me," he said, on shaking hands. "Jes' got in with Dave's father. We did some tall hunting I kin tell ye."

"And Nell?" asked Henry, quickly.

"She's a prisoner up to Fort Duquesne. We got thet putty straight."

"Not of the French?"

"No, of the Injuns hangin' around thar – the Jean Bevoir crowd, as Dave's father calls 'em – a bad lot, too."

Barringford had decided to take part in the campaign now in progress and it can well be imagined that the two young soldiers were right glad to have their trusty old friend with them once more.

"It will seem like old times," said Dave. "If only we could move ahead to-morrow!"

It was late in October when Dave brought in news. He rushed up to where Henry and Barringford were industriously sewing up some holes in their jackets.

"Hurrah, we are to move at last!" he cried. "Major Grant is ordered ahead with eight hundred men, and our company is to go with the body."

"Only eight hundred," returned Barringford. "Thet ain't many. Kind o' a scoutin' party, I reckon."

Yet, he too was glad to make a movement of any kind, and prepared at once for the departure. Two days later the command was on the road, those left behind wishing them the best of success.

The English were still many miles from Fort Duquesne when the French scouts brought word to their commander that the enemy were approaching. Without waiting to be attacked the French marched forth to do the approaching English battle.

"The fight is on!" cried Dave, as several shots rang out from in front. "We are in for it now!"

"Well, we came to fight," answered Henry. "And the sooner the battle is over the better."

The real battle, however, did not take place until the next day. Then the French did their best to surround the English, and in a short while the contest waxed hot on all sides. Part of the battleground was a small opening and the rest of the fighting took place in the forest. Soon the smoke became so thick that but little could be seen on either side.

"Tell ye wot, them Frenchers mean business!" ejaculated Barringford, while reloading his firearm, which was so hot he could scarcely hold it. "We've lost a sight o' men already."

What he said was true. The loss had been frightful, and the dead and dying lay on every side. Moans and shrieks rent the air, in a fashion to turn the stoutest heart sick. Major Grant rushed around heedless of danger, giving directions and doing all he could to encourage those under him.

"Don't retreat! The battle is ours!" he called out. "Stand where you are!" And then his voice was lost in the rattle of musketry and the mad yelling of the Indians, who had come up to aid the French and steal what they could from the English.

Dave, Henry and Barringford were behind a fallen tree, blazing away as rapidly as possible. The French were before them and the Indians on their left, and for some time it was as if pandemonium had broken loose. Suddenly Barringford gave a yell.

"Duck, boys, duck!"

They fell flat and not a second too soon, for half a dozen arrows whizzed over their heads. Then the old frontiersman leaped to his feet.

"I'll pay ye back!" he roared. "That fer ye, ye sarpints o' the Evil One!"

He took a quick but careful aim at the leader of the Indians, who was rushing straight forward, with tomahawk lifted. The hammer of his flint-lock musket fell. A terrific explosion followed and Barringford was hurled flat while Dave and Henry were also struck and knocked down. The gun had exploded.

Then before any of the party could recover, the Indians were upon them, shouting like demons and flourishing their tomahawks and their keen-edged hunting knives.