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True to the Old Flag

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"See, Harold!" Nelly exclaimed as she got a glimpse through the
boughs into the lake, "there is another canoe. They must have got the
Braithwaite boat. We passed their place coming here, you know. I
wonder what has happened there."

"What do you think is best to do, Nelly?" Harold asked. "Your opinion
is just as good as mine about it. Shall we leave our canoe behind,
land, and take to the woods, or shall we stop quietly in the canoe in
shelter here, or shall we take to the lake and trust to our speed to
get away? in which case, you know, if they should come up I could
pick them off with my gun before they got within reach.

"I don't think that would do," the girl said, shaking her head. "You
shoot very well, but it is not an easy thing to hit a moving object
if you are not accustomed to it, and they paddle so fast that if you
miss them once they would be close alongside--at any rate we should
be within reach of their guns--before you could load again. They
would be sure to catch us, for although we might paddle nearly as
fast for a time, they would certainly tire us out. Then, as to
waiting here in the canoe, if they came along on foot looking for us
we should be in their power. It is dreadful to think of taking to the
woods with Indians all about, but I really think that would be our
safest plan."

"I think so too, Nelly, if we can manage to do it without leaving a
track. We must not go much further, for the trees are getting thinner
ahead and we should be seen by the canoes."

Fifty yards further Harold stopped paddling.

"Here is just the place, Nelly."

At this point a little stream of three or four feet wide emerged into
the lake; Harold directed the boat's head toward it. The water in the
stream was but a few inches deep.

"Now, Nelly," he said, "we must step out into the water and walk up
it as far as we can go--it will puzzle even the sharpest redskin to
find our track then."

They stepped into the water, Harold taking the head-rope of the canoe
and towing the light boat--which, when empty, did not draw more than
two inches of water--behind him. He directed Nelly to be most careful
as she walked not to touch any of the bushes, which at times nearly
met across the stream.

"A broken twig or withered leaf would be quite enough to tell the
Indians that we came along this way," he said. "Where the bushes are
thick you must manage to crawl under them. Never mind about getting
wet--you will soon dry again."

Slowly and cautiously they made their way up the stream for nearly a
mile. It had for some distance been narrowing rapidly, being only fed
by little rills from the surrounding swamp land. Harold had so far
looked in vain for some spot where they could land without leaving
marks of their feet. Presently they came to a place where a great
tree had fallen across the stream.

"This will do, Nelly," Harold said. "Now, above all things you must
be careful not to break off any of the moss or bark. You had better
take your shoes off; then I will lift you on to the trunk and you can
walk along it without leaving a mark."

It was hard work for Nelly to take off her drenched boots, but she
managed at last. Harold lifted her on to the trunk and said:

"Walk along as far as you can and get down as lightly as possible on
to a firm piece of ground. It rises rapidly here and is, I expect, a
dry soil where the upper end of the tree lies."

"How are you going to get out, Harold?"

"I can swing myself up by that projecting root."

Before proceeding to do so Harold raised one end of the canoe and
placed it on the trunk of the tree; then, having previously taken off
his shoes, he swung himself on to the trunk; hauling up the light
bark canoe and taking especial pains that it did not grate upon the
trunk, he placed it on his head and followed Nelly along the tree. He
found, as he had expected, that the ground upon which the upper end
lay was firm and dry. He stepped down with great care, and was
pleased to see, as he walked forward, that no trace of a footmark was
left.

"Be careful, Nelly," he exclaimed when he joined her, "not to tread
on a stick or disturb a fallen leaf with your feet, and above all to
avoid breaking the smallest twig as you pass. Choose the most open
ground, as that is the hardest."

In about a hundred yards they came upon a large clump of bushes.

"Now, Nelly, raise those lower boughs as gently and as carefully as
you can. I will push the canoe under. I don't think the sharpest
Indian will be able to take up our track now."

Very carefully the canoe was stowed away, and when the boughs were
allowed to fall in their natural position it was completely hidden
from sight to every passer-by. Harold took up the fish, Nelly had
filled her apron with the berries, and carrying their shoes--for they
agreed that it would be safer not to put them on--they started on
their journey through the deep forest.




CHAPTER III.


THE REDSKIN ATTACK.

Mr. Welch was with the men, two or three hundred yards away from the
house, when the Indians suddenly sprang out and opened fire. One of
the men fell beside him; the farmer stooped to lift him, but saw that
he was shot through the head. Then he ran with full speed toward the
house, shouting to the hands to make straight for the gate,
disregarding the cattle. Several of these, however, alarmed at the
sudden outburst of fire and the yells of the Indians, made of their
own accord for the stables as their master rushed up at full speed.
The Indians were but fifty or sixty yards behind when Mr. Welch
reached his gate. They had all emptied their pieces, and after the
first volley no shots had been fired save one by the watchman on the
lookout. Then came the crack of Pearson's rifle just as Mr. Welch
shut the gate and laid the bar in its place. Several spare guns had
been placed in the upper chambers, and three reports rang out
together, for Mrs. Welch had run upstairs at the first alarm to take
her part in the defense.

In another minute the whole party, now six in all, were gathered in
the upper room.

"Where are Nelly and Harold?" Mr. Welch exclaimed. "I saw the canoe
close to the shore just before the Indians opened fire," the watchman
answered.

"You must have been asleep," Pearson said savagely. "Where were your
eyes to let them redskins crawl up through the corn without seeing
'em? With such a crowd of 'em the corn must have been a-waving as if
it was blowing a gale. You ought to have a bullet in yer ugly
carkidge, instead of its being in yer mate's out there."

While this conversation was going on no one had been idle. Each took
up his station at a loop-hole, and several shots were fired whenever
the movement of a blade of corn showed the lurking place of an
Indian.

The instant the gate had been closed War Eagle had called his men
back to shelter, for he saw that all chance of a surprise was now
over, and it was contrary to all redskin strategy to remain for one
moment unnecessarily exposed to the rifles of the whites. The farmer
and his wife had rushed at once up into the lookout as the Indians
drew off and, to their joy, saw the canoe darting away from shore.

"They are safe for the present, thank God!" Mr. Welch said. "It is
providential indeed that they had not come a little further from the
shore when the redskins broke out. Nothing could have saved them, had
they fairly started for the house."

"What will they do, William?" asked his wife anxiously.

"I cannot tell you, my dear. I do not know what I should do myself
under the circumstances. However, the boy has got a cool head on his
shoulders, and you need not be anxious for the present. Now let us
join the others. Our first duty is to take our share in the defense
of the house. The young ones are in the hands of God. We can do
nothing for them." "Well?" Pearson asked, looking round from his
loop-hole as the farmer and his wife descended into the room, which
was a low garret extending over the whole of the house. "Do you see
the canoe?"

"Yes, it has got safely away," William Welch said; "but what the lad
will do now is more than I can say."

Pearson placed his rifle against the wall. "Now keep your eyes
skinned," he said to the three farm hands.

"One of yer's done mischief enough this morning already, and you'll
get your har raised, as sure as you're born, unless you look out
sharp. Now," he went on, turning to the Welches, "let us go down and
talk this matter over. The Injuns may keep on firing, but I don't
think they'll show in the open again as long as it's light enough for
us to draw bead on 'em. Yes," he went on, as he looked through a
loop-hole in the lower story over the lake, "there they are, just out
of range."

"What do you think they will do?" Mrs. Welch asked.

The hunter was silent for a minute.

"It aint a easy thing to say what they ought to do, much less what
they will do; it aint a good outlook anyway, and I don't know what I
should do myself. The whole of the woods on this side of the lake are
full of the darned red critters. There's a hundred eyes on that canoe
now, and, go where they will, they'll be watched."

"But why should they not cross the lake and land on the other side?"
Mr. Welch said.

"If you and I were in that canoe," the hunter answered, "that's about
what we should do; but, not to say that it's a long row for 'em, they
two young uns would never get across; the Injuns would have 'em
before they had been gone an hour. There's my canoe lying under the
bushes; she'd carry four, and would go three feet to their two."

"I had forgotten about that," William Welch said, and then added,
after a pause: "The Indians may not find it."

"You needn't hope that," the hunter answered; "they have found it
long before this. I don't want to put you out of heart; but I tell ye
ye'll see them on the water before many minutes have passed."

"Then they are lost," Mrs. Welch said, sinking down in her chair and
bursting into tears.

"They air in God's hands, ma'am," the hunter said, "and it's no use
trying to deceive you."

"Would it be of any use," William Welch asked, after a pause, "for me
to offer the redskins that my wife and I will go out and put
ourselves in their hands if they will let the canoe go off without
pursuit?"

"Not it," the hunter replied decidedly. "You would be throwing away
your own lives without saving theirs, not to mention, although that
doesn't matter a straw, the lives of the rest of us here. It will be
as much as we can do, when they attack us in earnest, to hold this
place with six guns, and with only four the chance would be worth
nothing. But that's neither here nor there. You wouldn't save the
young ones if you gave yourselves up. You can't trust the word of an
Injun on the war-path, and if they went so far as not to kill 'em
they would carry 'em off; and, after all, I aint sure as death aint
better for 'em than to be brought up as Injuns. There," he said,
stopping suddenly as a report of a musket sounded at some little
distance off, "the Injuns are trying their range against 'em. Let's
go up to the lookout."

The little tower had a thick parapet of logs some three feet high,
and, crouching behind this, they watched the canoe. "He's coming
nearer in shore, and the girl has got the paddle," Pearson muttered.
"What's he doing now?" A puff of smoke was seen to rise near the
border of the lake; then came the sharp crack of Harold's rifle. They
saw an Indian spring from the bushes and fall dead.

"Well done, young un!" Pearson exclaimed. "I told yer he'd got his
head screwed on the right way. He's keeping just out of range of
their guns, and that piece of his can carry twice as far as theirs. I
reckon he's thought of the canoe, and means to keep 'em from using
it. I begins to think, Mr. Welch, that there's a chance for 'em yet.
Now let's talk a little to these red devils in the corn."

For some little time Pearson and William Welch turned their attention
to the Indians, while the mother sat with her eyes fixed upon the
canoe.

"He is coming closer again," she exclaimed presently.

"He's watching the canoe, sure enough," Pearson said. Then came the
volley along the bushes on the shore, and they saw an Indian rise to
his feet.

"That's just where she lies!" Pearson exclaimed; "he's getting into
it. There! well done, young un."

The sudden disappearance of the Indian and the vengeful yell of the
hidden foe told of the failure of the attempt.

"I think they're safe, now, till nightfall. The Injuns won't care
about putting themselves within range of that 'ere rifle again."

Gradually the fire of the Indians ceased, and the defenders were able
to leave the loop-holes. Two of the men went down and fastened up the
cattle, which were still standing loose in the yard inside the
stockade; the other set to to prepare a meal, for Mrs. Welch could
not take her eyes off the canoe.

The afternoon seemed of interminable length. Not a shot was fired.
The men, after taking their dinner, were occupied in bringing some
great tubs on to the upper story and filling them to the brim with
water from the well. This story projected two feet beyond the one
below it, having been so built in order that, in case of attack, the
defenders might be able to fire down upon any foe who might cross the
stockade and attack the house itself; the floor boards over the
projecting portion were all removable. The men also brought a
quantity of the newly cut corn to the top of the house, first
drenching it with water.

The sun sank, and as dusk was coming on the anxious watchers saw the
canoe paddle out far into the lake.

"An old frontiersman couldn't do better," Pearson exclaimed. "He's
kept them out of the canoe as long as daylight lasted; now he has
determined to paddle away and is making down the lake," he went on
presently. "It's a pity he turned so soon, as they can see the course
he's taking."

They watched until it was completely dark; but, before the light
quite faded, they saw another canoe put out from shore and start in
the direction taken by the fugitives.

"Will they catch them, do you think?" Mrs. Welch asked.

"No, ma'am," Pearson said confidently. "The boy's got sense enough to
have changed his course after it gets dark, though whether he'll make
for shore or go out toward the other side is more than I can say. You
see, they'll know that the Injuns are all along this side of the
lake; but then, on the other hand, they'll be anxious about us and
'll want to keep close at hand. Besides, the lad knows nothing of the
other side; there may be Injuns there, for aught he knows, and it's a
skeary thing for a young un to take to the forest, especially with a
gal in his charge. There aint no saying what he'll do. And now we've
got to look after ourselves; don't let us think about 'em at present.
The best thing as we can do for them, as well as for ourselves, is to
hold this here place. If they live they'll come back to it sooner or
later, and it 'll be better for 'em to find it standing, and you here
to welcome 'em, than to get back to a heap of ruins and some dead
bodies."

"When will the redskins attack, do you think?" the farmer asked.

"We may expect 'em any time, now," the hunter answered. "The Injuns'
time of attack is generally just before dawn, but they know well
enough they aint likely to ketch us asleep any time, and, as they
know exactly what they have got to do they'll gain nothing by
waiting. I wish we had a moon; if we had, we might keep 'em out of
the stockade. But there--it's just as well it's dark, after all; for,
if the moon was up, the young ones would have no chance of getting
away."

The garrison now all took their places at the loop-holes, having
first carried the wet fodder to the roof and spread it over the
shingles. There was nothing to do now but to wait. The night was so
dark that they could not see the outline of the stockade. Presently a
little spark shot through the air, followed by a score of others. Mr.
Welch had taken his post on the tower, and he saw the arrows whizzing
through the air, many of them falling on the roof. The dry grass
dipped in resin, which was tied round the arrow-heads, was instantly
extinguished as the arrows fell upon the wet corn, and a yell arose
from the Indians.

The farmer descended and told the others of the failure of the
Indians' first attempt.

"That 'ere dodge is a first-rate un," Pearson said. "We're safe from
fire, and that's the only thing we've got to be afeared on. You'll
see 'em up here in a few minutes."

Everything was perfectly quiet. Once or twice the watchers thought
that they could hear faint sounds, but could not distinguish their
direction. After half an hour's anxious waiting a terrible yell was
heard from below, and at the doors and windows of the lower rooms
came the crashing blows of tomahawks.

The boards had already been removed from the flooring above, and the
defenders opened a steady fire into the dark mass that they could
faintly make out clustered round the windows and doors. At Pearson's
suggestion the bullets had been removed from the guns and heavy
charges of buckshot had been substituted for them, and yells of pain
and surprise rose as they fired. A few shots were fired up from
below, but a second discharge from the spare guns completed the
effect from the first volley. The dark mass broke up and, in a few
seconds, all was as quiet as before.

Two hours passed, and then slight sounds were heard. "They've got the
gate opened, I expect," Pearson said. "Fire occasionally at that; if
we don't hit 'em the flashes may show us what they're doing."

It was as he had expected. The first discharge was followed by a cry,
and by the momentary light they saw a number of dark figures pouring
in through the gate. Seeing that concealment was no longer possible,
the Indians opened a heavy fire round the house; then came a crashing
sound near the door.

"Just as I thought," Pearson said. "They're going to try to burn us
out."

For some time the noise continued, as bundle after bundle of dried
wood was thrown down by the door. The garrison were silent; for, as
Pearson said, they could see nothing, and a stray bullet might enter
at the loop-holes if they placed themselves there, and the flashes of
the guns would serve as marks for the Indians.

Presently two or three faint lights were seen approaching.

"Now," Pearson said, "pick 'em off as they come up. You and I'll take
the first man, Welch. You fire just to the right of the light, I will
fire to the left; he may be carrying the brand in either hand."

They fired together, and the brand was seen to drop to the ground.
The same thing happened as the other two sparks of light approached;
then it was again quiet. Now a score of little lights flashed through
the air.

"They're going to light the pile with their flaming arrows," Pearson
said. "War Eagle is a good leader."

Three or four of the arrows fell on the pile of dry wood. A moment
later the flames crept up and the smoke of burning wood rolled up
into the room above. A yell of triumph burst from the Indians, but
this changed into one of wrath as those above emptied the contents of
one of the great tubs of water on to the pile of wood below them. The
flames were instantly extinguished.

"What will they do next?" Mrs. Welch asked.

"It's like enough," Pearson replied, "that they'll give the job up
altogether. They've got plenty of plunder and scalps at the
settlements, and their attacking us here in such force looks as if
the hull of 'em were on their way back to their villages. If they
could have tuk our scalps easy they would have done it; but War Eagle
aint likely to risk losing a lot of men when he aint sartin of
winning, after all. He has done good work as it is, and has quite
enough to boast about when he gets back. If he were to lose a heap of
his braves here it would spoil the success of his expedition. No, I
think as he will give it up now."

"He will be all the more anxious to catch the children," Mrs. Welch
said despondently.

"It can't be denied, ma'am, as he will do his best that way," Pearson
answered. "It all depends, though, on the boy. I wish I was with him
in that canoe. Howsomever, I can't help thinking as he will
sarcumvent 'em somehow."

The night passed without any further attack. By turns half the
garrison watched while the other lay down, but there was little sleep
taken by any. With the first gleam of daylight Mrs. Welch and her
husband were on the lookout.

"There's two canoes out on the lake," Pearson said. "They're paddling
quietly; which is which I can't say."

As the light became brighter Pearson pronounced, positively, that
there were three men in one canoe and four in the other.

"I think they're all Injuns," he said. "They must have got another
canoe somewhere along the lake. Waal, they've not caught the young
uns yet."

"The boats are closing up to each other," Mrs. Welch said. "They're
going to have a talk, I reckon. Yes, one of 'em's turning and going
down the lake, while the other's going up. I'd give a heap to know
where the young uns have got to."

The day passed quietly. An occasional shot toward the house showed
that the Indians remained in the vicinity and, indeed, dark forms
could be seen moving about in the distant parts of the clearing.

"Will it be possible," the farmer asked Pearson, when night again
fell, "to go out and see if we can discover any traces of them?"

"Worse than no use," Pearson said positively. "We should just lose
our har without doing no good whatever. If the Injuns in these
woods--and I reckon altogether there's a good many hundred of
'em--can't find 'em, ye may swear that we can't. That's just what
they're hoping, that we'll be fools enough to put ourselves outside
the stockade. They'll lie close round all night, and a weasel
wouldn't creep through 'em. Ef I thought there was jest a shadow of
chance of finding them young uns I'd risk it; but there's no
chance--not a bit of it."

A vigilant watch was again kept up all night, but all was still and
quiet. The next morning the Indians were still round them.

"Don't ye fret, ma'am!" Pearson said, as he saw how pale and wan Mrs.
Welch looked in the morning light. "You may bet your last shilling
that they're not caught 'em."

"Why are you so sure?" Mrs. Welch asked. "They may be dead by this
time."

"Not they, ma'am! I'm as sartin as they're living and free as I am
that I'm standing here. I know these Injuns' ways. Ef they had caught
'em they'd jest have brought 'em here and would have fixed up two
posts, jest out of rifle range, and would have tied them there and
offered you the choice of giving up this place and your scalps or of
seeing them tortured and burned under your eyes. That's their way.
No, they aint caught 'em alive, nor they aint caught 'em dead
neither; for, ef they had they'd have brought their scalps to have
shown yer. No, they've got away, though it beats me to say how. I've
only got one fear, and that is that they might come back before the
Injuns have gone. Now I tell ye what we had better do--we better keep
up a dropping fire all night and all day to-morrow, and so on, until
the redskins have gone. Ef the young uns come back across the lake at
night, and all is quiet, they'll think the Injuns have taken
themselves off; but, if they hear firing still going on, they'll know
well enough that they're still around the house."

William Welch at once agreed to this plan, and every quarter of an
hour or so all through the night a few shots were fired. The next
morning no Indians could be seen, and there was a cessation of the
dropping shots which had before been kept up at the house.

"They may be in hiding," Pearson said in the afternoon, "trying to
tempt us out; but I'm more inclined to think as how they've gone. I
don't see a blade of that corn move; I've had my eyes fixed on it for
the last two hours. It are possible, of course, that they're there,
but I reckon not. I expect they've been waiting, ever since they gave
up the attack, in hopes that the young uns would come back; but now,
as they see that we're keeping up a fire to tell them as how they're
still round us, they've given it up and gone. When it gets dark
to-night I'll go out and scout round."

At ten o'clock at night Pearson dropped lightly from the stockade on
the side opposite to the gate, as he knew that, if the Indians were
there, this would be the point that they would be watching; then,
crawling upon his stomach, he made his way slowly down to the lake.
Entering the water and stooping low, he waded along the edge of the
bushes for a distance of a mile; then he left the water and struck
into the forest. Every few minutes he could hear the discharge of the
rifles at the house; but, as before, no answering shots were heard.
Treading very cautiously, he made a wide _détour_ and then came down
again on the clearing at the end furthest from the lake, where the
Indians had been last seen moving about. All was still. Keeping among
the trees and moving with great caution, he made his way, for a
considerable distance, along the edge of the clearing; then he
dropped on his hands and knees and entered the cornfield, and for two
hours he crawled about, quartering the ground like a dog in search of
game. Everywhere he found lines where the Indians had crawled along
to the edge nearest to the house, but nowhere did he discover a sign
of life. Then, still taking great care, he moved down toward the
house and made a circuit of it a short distance outside the stockade;
then he rose to his feet.

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