At War with Pontiac
K >> Kirk Munroe and J. Finnemore >> At War with Pontiac[Frontispiece: Donald is unexpectedly saved from a terrible death.]
AT WAR WITH PONTIAC
or
THE TOTEM OF THE BEAR
_A TALE OF REDCOAT AND REDSKIN_
by
KIRK MUNROE
AUTHOR OF "THE WHITE CONQUERORS," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED BY J. FINNEMORE
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1922
COPYRIGHT, 1895, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. TAWTRY HOUSE
II. THE MAJOR GAINS A FRIEND AND MAKES AN ENEMY
III. TRUMAN FLAGG'S STORY
IV. ESCAPE OF THE PRISONERS
V. A BABY LOST AND RECOVERED
VI. THE WILDERNESS
VII. THE MAJOR RE-ENTERS ACTIVE SERVICE
VIII. DONALD SETS FORTH ON A PERILOUS MISSION
IX. ST. AUBIN'S STARTLING INFORMATION
X. PONTIAC DECLARES WAR
XI. MAJOR HESTER IS TAKEN PRISONER
XII. DONALD AT JOHNSON CASTLE
XIII. PAYMASTER BULLEN AND HIS WONDERFUL TUB
XIV. A WHITE MEDICINE MAN
XV. DONALD AND CHRISTIE CEMENT A FRIENDSHIP
XVI. QUICKEYE AND THE "ZEBRA"
XVII. A BRAVE GIRL CAPTIVE
XVIII. SURPRISE AND DESTRUCTION OF THE BOAT BRIGADE
XIX. THE TOTEM SAVES DONALD'S LIFE
XX. BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT AT FORT DETROIT
XXI. IN SEARCH OF A LOST SISTER
XXII. AMID THE RUINS OF FORT SANDUSKY
XXIII. DISCOVERED AND PURSUED BY SAVAGES
XXIV. CHRISTIE'S BRAVE DEFENCE OF HIS POST
XXV. DONALD FIRES THE MINE AND SAVES THE BLOCKHOUSE
XXVI. FRIENDS IN CAPTIVITY
XXVII. HOW THE PAYMASTER NAVIGATED LAKE ERIE IN A TUB
XXVIII. THE PAYMASTER IN WAR-PAINT AND FEATHERS
XXIX. DONALD AND THE PAYMASTER ESCAPE
XXX. IMMINENT DANGER OF THE SCHOONER GLADWYN
XXXI. PONTIAC RECOGNIZES THE TOTEM
XXXII. LAST CRUISE OF THE PAYMASTER'S TUB
XXXIII. FORT DETROIT IS REINFORCED
XXXIV. AH-MO, THE DAUGHTER OF PONTIAC
XXXV. A NIGHT OF FIGHTING AND TERROR
XXXVI. BRAVE DEATH OF THE OLD MAJOR
XXXVII. THE CURSE OF THE MAGIC CIRCLE
XXXVIII. A WINTER IN THE WILDERNESS
XXXIX. AN ADOPTED DAUGHTER OF THE FOREST
XL. THE PRINCESS ANSWERS DONALD'S QUESTION
ILLUSTRATIONS
DONALD IS UNEXPECTEDLY SAVED FROM A TERRIBLE
DEATH . . . . . . _Frontispiece_
"THESE TWO PADDLED THEIR WAY AGAINST THE SWIFT CURRENT
OF THE MOHAWK"
DONALD AND HIS TWO COMPANIONS ARE PURSUED BY INDIANS
PONTIAC DISCOVERS THAT DONALD IS TATTOOED WITH THE MAGIC CIRCLE
AT WAR WITH PONTIAC
OR
THE TOTEM OF THE BEAR
_A TALE OF REDCOAT AND REDSKIN_
CHAPTER I
TAWTRY HOUSE
A glorious midsummer day was drawing to a close; its heat had passed;
the tall forest trees, whose leaves were pleasantly rustled by the cool
breeze of approaching night, flung a bridge of tremulous shadows across
the surface of Loch Meg, and all nature was at peace. The tiny lake,
though bearing an old-world name, was of the new world, and was one of
the myriad forest gems that decked the wilderness of western New York a
century and a half ago. It was embraced in a patent recently granted
by the English king to his well-approved servant Graham Hester, whose
bravery and wounds had won for him an honorable retirement, with the
rank of major in a Highland regiment, ere he was forty years of age.
Being thus provided with an ample estate, Major Hester, with his young
wife and half a dozen trusty followers, left the old world for the new,
and plunged into its wilderness. Though somewhat dismayed to find his
property located a score of leagues beyond that of his nearest white
neighbor, the major was at the same time gratified to discover in that
neighbor his old friend and comrade, William Johnson, through whose
diplomacy the powerful Iroquois tribes of the Six Nations were allied
to the English and kept at peace.
On a crest of land overlooking and sloping gently down to the blue
lakelet which Major Hester had named in honor of his wife, he erected a
substantial blockhouse of squared timbers. Behind it were ranged a
number of log outbuildings about three sides of a square, in the centre
of which was dug a deep well. Having thus in a time of peace prepared
for war, the proprietor began the improvement of his estate with such
success that, within three years from the felling of the first tree,
several acres of gloomy forest were replaced by smiling fields. A
young orchard was in sturdy growth, a small herd of cattle found ample
pasturage on the borders of the lake, and on all sides were evidences
of thrift and plenty.
The military instinct of the proprietor caused all forest growth to be
cleared from a broad space entirely around the rude fortress that held
his life's treasures; but within the enclosure he left standing two
superb oaks. These not only afforded a grateful shade, but gave a
distinctive feature to the place that was quickly recognized by the
surrounding Indians. Thus they always spoke of it as the house of the
two trees, or two-tree house, a name that soon became "Tawtry House,"
under which designation it was known from the unsalted seas to the tide
waters of the distant Shattemuc.
Tawtry House not only offered a ready welcome and bountiful hospitality
to the occasional hunter, trader, or traveller tempted by business or
curiosity into that wild region, but to the Indians who still roamed
the forest at will and had established one of their villages at no
great distance from it. With these, by the exercise of extreme
firmness and an inflexible honesty, Major Hester succeeded in
maintaining friendly relations, in spite of their jealousy of his
presence among them. At the same time, his wife, through her
gentleness and ready sympathy in their times of sickness or distress,
gained their deep-seated affection.
Although the Iroquois were thus at peace with their English neighbors,
there was a bitter enmity between them and the French settlers of
Canada, who had espoused the cause of their hereditary foes, the tribes
dwelling along the St. Lawrence and on both shores of the great
fresh-water lakes. Most prominent of these were the Ottawas, Hurons or
Wyandots, Ojibwas and Pottawattamies, who were allied in a defensive
league against their powerful enemies. Their ancient hatred of the
Iroquois, animated by the traditions of generations, was ever fanned
into a blaze by Jesuit priests eager for the triumph of their faith,
French traders anxious to monopolize the immensely profitable fur
business of the new world, and French soldiers determined at any cost
to extend the empire of their king. Thus, on one pretext or another,
war parties were constantly coming and going, destroying or being
destroyed, and it well behooved the adventurous frontier settler to
intrench himself strongly behind massive timbers and stout palisades.
Under these conditions and amid such scenes, in the year 1743, when
Tawtry House was still sweet-scented with odors of the forest from
which it had been so recently hewn, was born Donald Hester, as sturdy a
young American as ever kicked in swaddling clothes, and the hero of
this tale of the forest.
On the midsummer evening with which our story opens, Major Hester and
his wife walked, hand in hand, beyond the palisades of their fortress
home, enjoying the marvellous beauty of their surroundings and talking
of many things. Already had this wilderness home become very dear to
them; for, representing years of toil and privation as it did, it was
their very own and the heritage of their boy, now two years of age, who
toddled behind them in charge of a ruddy-cheeked Scotch nurse. While
they rejoiced over what had been accomplished, they planned for the
future, and discussed the details of many projected improvements. At
the outlet of the lake a grist-mill should be built, and the low lands
beyond should be drained to afford increased pasturage for their
multiplying herd.
As they talked there came a sound from the forest depths that caused
them to pause and listen. Borne faintly on the evening breeze, was a
distant firing of guns, and they fancied that it was accompanied by a
confusion of yells from human throats.
"Oh, Graham! what can it mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Hester, as she clasped
her husband's arm and glanced instinctively back, to make sure of the
safety of her child.
"Nothing that need alarm you, my dear," answered the major,
reassuringly. "It is only a token of some jollification among our
Indian friends: a war dance, or a scalp dance, or the advent among them
of a new lot of wretched captives, or something of that kind. I
remember Truman mentioning, more than a week ago, that another war
party had gone out. I do wish though that the Senecas would take it
into their heads to move their village farther away. I used to think
five miles quite a respectable distance, but now--"
"I would that this horrible fighting were ended," interrupted Mrs.
Hester. "Will not the time ever come, Graham, when these poor heathen
will cease from their dreadful wars, and live at peace with each other,
like civilized beings?"
"Like civilized beings, my dear?" laughed Major Hester. "Yes, I think
I may safely prophesy that if the time ever comes when those nations
which we call civilized give over fighting, then even the red Indians
may be persuaded to follow their example. As for their methods of
warfare, they are but the counterparts of those practised by our own
savage ancestors a few centuries ago; while in their torture of
captives they are only reproducing the acts of civilized Romans,
mediaeval knights, and the Holy Inquisition. It is not long since,
even in England, Elizabeth Gaunt was burned to death at Tyburn for
yielding to the dictates of compassion and giving shelter to a
political offender; nor are the cries for mercy of the martyrs tortured
at Smithfield stakes yet forgotten. The torture of New England witches
is recent history, while the dismal record of devilish tortures
inflicted by white men upon Indian captives is unbroken from the days
of Columbus. Did not Frontenac cause an Iroquois warrior to be burned
alive in order to terrorize his fellows? Did not--"
The honest major was so warmed to his subject that he might have
discoursed upon it indefinitely, had he not been startlingly
interrupted. He and his wife were retracing their steps toward the
house, and, as before, the Scotch maid, with her toddling charge, was
some paces behind them. At a wild scream from the girl those in
advance turned in time to see the flying form of a young Indian, who
had just emerged from the near-by forest, fall headlong at her feet.
His naked body was pierced by wounds, and his strength was evidently
exhausted. As he fell, a second Indian, in whose right hand gleamed a
deadly tomahawk, leaped from the woodland shadows, and, with a yell of
triumph, bounded toward his intended victim. He was closely followed
by two others.
As the Scotch girl stood motionless with terror, little Donald,
evidently believing this to be some new form of game provided for his
especial edification, ran forward with a gurgle of delight, stumbled,
and fell directly across the head of the prostrate Indian. But for the
child's sudden movement the keen-bladed hatchet in the hand of the
foremost pursuer, already drawn back for the deadly throw, would have
sped on its fatal mission.
With a cry of anguish Mrs. Hester sprang toward her baby; but quicker
than she, with a leap like that of a panther, Major Hester gained the
spot first, snatched up his child, and, over the body of the young
Indian, sternly confronted his scowling pursuers.
CHAPTER II
THE MAJOR GAINS A FRIEND AND MAKES AN ENEMY
For some seconds the three Indians, who were panting heavily from the
effect of their long chase through the forest, gazed in silence at the
white man who with the child in his arms so fearlessly confronted them.
Then the foremost of them, an evil-looking savage who bore the name of
Mahng (the Diver), motioned the major aside with a haughty wave of the
hand, saying: "Let the white man step from the path of Mahng, that he
may kill this Ottawa dog who thought to escape the vengeance of the
Senecas."
Without retreating an inch from his position, and still holding the
little Donald, who crowed with delight at sight of the Indians, Major
Hester replied:--
"Not even if the whole Seneca tribe demanded it would I allow this man
to be murdered in the presence of my wife. Nor, since my child has
saved his life, will I deliver him into your hands for torture. He has
sought my protection, and it shall be granted him until he is proved
unworthy of it. Let the sachems of your tribe lay this grievance
before Sir William Johnson. If the white chief decides that the
prisoner must be restored to them, and so orders, then will I give him
up, but not before. Now go, ere my young men, who are already
approaching, reach this place and drive you from it with whips, like
yelping curs."
Being sufficiently acquainted with the English language to comprehend
the purport of these remarks, the scowling savage made answer:--
"Who gave the white man the right to step between an Indian and an
Indian? This land is Indian land. The long house in which the white
man dwells belongs to the Indians, as did the forest trees from which
it is built. If the Indian says stay, then may you stay; if he says
go, then must you go. Let one of your young men but lift a hand
against Mahng, and this ground that has known the tread of the white
man shall know it no more forever. His house shall become a hooting
place for owls, and Seneca squaws shall gather the harvest of his
fields. Restore then to Mahng his prisoner, that there may be no bad
blood between him and his white brother."
"Never," replied Major Hester, who was sufficiently versed in the
Indian tongue to catch the general drift of these remarks.
He had hardly uttered the word ere Mahng stooped, darted forward with
deadly intent like a wild serpent, and sought to bury his gleaming
hatchet in the brain of his still prostrate foe.
Like a flash the major's strong right foot shot out; the heavy,
hob-nailed walking-shoe caught the savage squarely under the chin; he
was lifted from the ground, and, falling on his back, lay as one who is
dead.
The remaining savages made as though to take instant vengeance for this
deadly insult and, as they imagined, murder of their leader, but their
impulse was checked by a stern command from behind. Glancing in that
direction, they saw themselves covered by a long, brown rifle-barrel,
held by a white man clad in the leathern costume of the backwoods. At
the same time half a dozen laborers who, home-returning from the
fields, had noticed that something unusual was taking place, came
hurrying to the scene of disturbance. Wisely concluding that under
these circumstances discretion was the better part of valor, the
Senecas picked up their helpless comrade and, retreating as rapidly as
their burden would permit, disappeared amid the darkening shadows of
the forest.
The tableau presented at this moment by those who remained was that of
the tall major standing above the prostrate form of the escaped
captive, holding his laughing child in one arm while his trembling wife
clung to the other. Close beside them knelt the terror-stricken maid,
with her face buried in her hands, and a few paces in the rear were
grouped the laborers, armed with various implements of toil. In the
foreground, Truman Flagg, the hunter, white by birth, Indian by
association and education, leaned on his rifle and gazed silently after
the disappearing savages. As they vanished in the forest, he remarked
quietly:--
"'Twas handsomely done, major, and that scoundrel Mahng deserved all he
got. But ef he's as dead as he looks, I'm fearful that kick may get
you into trouble with the tribe, though he's not a Seneca by blood, nor
overly popular at that."
"You know him, then?" queried the major.
"Not edzackly what you might call know him; but I know something of
him."
"Very well; come up to the house and tell me what you know, while we
consider this business. Some of you men carry this poor fellow to the
tool-house, where we will see what can be done for him. Now, my dear,
the evening meal awaits us, and I for one shall partake of it with a
keener relish that this unfortunate affair has terminated so happily."
"I pray God, Graham, that it may be terminated," replied Mrs. Hester,
fervently, as she took the child from its father's arms and strained
him to her bosom.
The whole of this dramatic scene had transpired within the space of a
few minutes, and when the men approached to lift the prostrate Indian
they found him so recovered from his exhaustion as to be able to stand,
and walk feebly with the aid of some support.
Major Hester's first duty, after conveying his wife and child to the
shelter of the blockhouse, was to visit the guest so strangely thrust
upon his hospitality and inquire into his condition. He found him
lying on a pallet of straw, over which a blanket had been thrown, and
conversing with Truman Flagg in an Indian tongue unknown to the
proprietor. The hunter was bathing the stranger's wounds with a
gentleness that seemed out of keeping with his own rude aspect, and
administering occasional draughts of cool well water, that appeared to
revive the sufferer as though it were the very elixir of life.
"What do you make of the case?" asked the major, as he watched Truman
Flagg apply to each of the many gashes in the Indian's body a healing
salve made of bear's grease mixed with the fragrant resin of the balsam
fir. "Will he pull through, think you?"
"Bless you, yes, major! He'll pull through all right; for, bad as his
hurts look, none of em's dangerous. They warn't meant to be. He was
nighest dead from thirst. You see, he's been under torture most of the
day, without nary a drop to wash down his last meal, which war a chunk
of salted meat give to him yesterday evening. He'll pick up fast
enough now, though. All he needs to make him as good as new is food
and drink, and a night's rest. After that you'll find him ready to go
on the war-path again, ef so be he's called to do it. He's the
pluckiest Injun ever I see, and I've trailed, fust and last, most of
the kinds there is. Ef he warn't, I wouldn't be fussin' over him now,
for his tribe is mostly pizen. But true grit's true grit, whether you
find it in white or red, and a man what values hisself as a man, is
bound to appreciate it whenever its trail crosses his'n."
"A sentiment in which I must heartily concur," assented the major. "A
brave enemy is always preferable to a cowardly friend. But is this
Indian an enemy? To what tribe does he belong?"
"Ottaway," was the laconic answer.
"Ottawa!" exclaimed the major, greatly disconcerted. "Why, the Ottawas
are the firmest allies of France and the most inveterate enemies of the
English. Are you certain he is an Ottawa?"
"Sartain," replied the hunter, with a silent laugh at the other's
evident dismay. "And not only that, but he's the best fighter and best
man in the whole Ottaway tribe. They call him Songa, the strong heart,
and I consate Sir William would be passing glad to exchange one hundred
pounds of the king's money for his scalp to-morrow."
"Why don't you earn it, then?" asked, the other. "Surely one hundred
pounds could not be gained more easily, nor is it a sum of money to be
despised even by an independent American woods-ranger like yourself."
For answer the hunter rose slowly to his full height, and, holding a
candle above his head, so that its light shone full on the proprietor's
face, regarded him intently for a score of seconds.
"You don't mean it, Major Hester! Thank God, you don't mean it! for
your face belies your words, and proves you to be an honest man," he
said at length. "Ef I thought you meant what you just said, and was
one to tempt a poor man to commit a murder for the sake of gold, I
would never again sit at your table, nor set foot in your house, nor
look upon your face, nor think of you save with the contempt an honest
man must always feel for a villain."
"No, Truman. I did not mean what I said," replied the major, holding
out a hand that was heartily grasped by the other. "I spoke out of
curiosity to hear your reply, though I might have known it would have
the ring of true steel. Now I must return to my wife, and if you will
join us, after you have done what you can for this poor fellow, we will
consult concerning the situation, for it is no light thing to hold
Songa the Ottawa as prisoner in one's house."
CHAPTER III
TRUMAN FLAGG'S STORY
Truman Flagg was a son of one of those hardy New England families
which, ever pushing into the wilderness in the extreme van of
civilization, were the greatest sufferers from the forays of French and
Indians, who every now and then swept down from Canada, like packs of
fierce Northern wolves. In one of these raids his parents were killed,
and the lad was borne away to be adopted among the Caughnawagas, who
dwelt on the St. Lawrence, not far from Montreal. With these Indians
he lived for several years, and having a natural taste for languages,
acquired, during this time, a fair knowledge of the tongues of most of
the Northern tribes, as well as a smattering of French. He also became
well versed in woodcraft, and so thoroughly Indian in appearance and
habit that when he was again captured by a marauding party of Maquas,
or Mohawks, it was not detected that he was of white blood until he was
stripped for the ordeal of the gantlet, in an Iroquois village. His
identity being thus discovered, his latest captors washed from him his
Caughnawaga paint, repainted and reclad him in Mohawk fashion, and
treated him in all respects like a son of the tribe. Having thus
exchanged one form of Indian life for another, Truman Flagg remained
among the Iroquois long enough to master their languages, and receive
the name of Honosagetha, or the man of much talk. Finally, he
attracted the attention of Sir William Johnson, and became one of the
general's interpreters, as well as a counsellor in Indian affairs.
After awhile the forest ranger so fretted against the restraints of
civilization and town life, as he termed that of the frontier
settlement clustered about Johnson Hall on the lower Mohawk, that when
Major Hester, searching for an experienced guide and hunter, offered
him the position, he gladly accepted it. Since then, save when his
services were required as a messenger between Tawtry House and the
river settlements, he had been free to come and go as he pleased,
provided he kept his employer fairly well provided with all varieties
of game in its season. Thus he was able to spend much of his time in
roaming the forest, passing from one Indian village to another, keeping
himself posted on all subjects of interest to these wilderness
communities, and ever watching, with eagle eye, over the safety of the
Tawtry House inmates. He was a simple-hearted fellow, of sterling
honesty, and a keen intelligence, that enabled him to absorb
information on all subjects that came within his range, as a sponge
absorbs water. Although of slender build, his muscles were of iron,
his eyesight was that of a hawk, and as a rifle-shot he had no superior
among all the denizens of the forest, white or red. During three years
of mutual helpfulness, a strong friendship had sprung up between this
son of the forest and the soldier, whose skilled valor on old-world
battle-fields had won the approbation of a king. Now, therefore, the
latter awaited with impatience the coming of the hunter, whose advice
he deemed essential before deciding upon any plan of action in the
present crisis.
When Truman Flagg appeared, and reported his patient to be sleeping
soundly after having eaten a hearty supper, the major asked what he
knew concerning the young Ottawa, and was answered as follows:--
"As fur as I kin make out, major, Mahng, the fellow you laid out so
neatly awhile ago, is a Jibway, while Songa is an Ottaway, and son of
the head chief, or medicine man, of the Metai, a magic circle of great
influence among the lake tribes. Not long ago both Songa and Mahng
courted a young Jibway squaw, who was said to be the handsomest gal of
her tribe. They had some hot fights over her; but from the first she
favored Songa, and so, of course, the other fellow had no show.
Finally, Songa married her and carried her away to the Ottaway
villages. On this, Mahng swore to be revenged on both of 'em, and as
the Jibways and Ottaways is good friends, he come and jined the Senecas
on purpose to get a chance at Songa. Here, seeing as he belongs to the
totem of the wolf, which is strong among the Senecas, and as he isn't
in noways a coward nor lacking in good fighting sense, he soon made a
name for himself as a warrior, and could raise a party agin the
Ottaways any time he chose. Most of the fighting that's been going on
since you came here has been stirred up by Mahng, and ef the whites
gets drawed into it, it'll be his doings. With all his smartness he
never met up with Songa, or leastways never got the best of him, till
this last time, when, fur as I kin make out, they caught him and his
squaw and their young one travelling from one Ottaway village to
another. They say Songa made the prettiest fight ever was seen, killed
half a dozen of Mahnga party, and held 'em all off till his squaw had
made good her escape with the child. Then he give up, and they brought
him in. They waited till he got well of his hurts, and then they set
out to kill him by as mean and devilish a lot of tortures as ever I
see."