In the Days of Washington Part 17

"A bear or a wolf," replied Barnabas.

"Or a man," G.o.dfrey suggested uneasily.

Barnabas did not answer. He thoughtfully watched the animal until it mounted the bank and disappeared, and after that an extra wrinkle or two remained on his furrowed brow. During the afternoon he scanned both sh.o.r.es intently, and furtively examined the muskets to see that all were loaded.

The sun faded in a haze of gold and purple, and the shroud of night fell on lonely mountain and river. There was no moon, and through the blackness the flat gurgled on its watery way. An hour after dark a misty object loomed out of mid-stream. It was an island, and as the upper point drew near, Cutbush gave the rudder a twist that sent the flat into the channel on the left.

"It's the proper course," he explained, "and the one that we boatmen take. T'other side is full of rocks and shallows."

"But there's a bit of rapids below," said McNicol, "if my ears don't deceive me."

"They're no account," replied Cutbush. "There's a clean pa.s.sage through toward the sh.o.r.e side."

He swung the boat further to the left, and it glided silently along within fifty yards of the bank, and three times that distance from the island.

"I've got my bearin's exactly now," said Barnabas. "That's what they call Packer's Island acrost from us, an' a mile or so down yonder on the right is the settlement of Northumberland, where the North an' West Branches meet. We'll be on the main river in half an hour."

"I want to stop at all the forts on the way down," said Nathan, "because the soldiers may have had late reports from the army, and can tell me if my father--"

"Look out, sir," G.o.dfrey eagerly interrupted, turning to Cutbush. "We're running straight into a little island. Don't you see it?"

The men were grouped in the stern at the time, and G.o.dfrey's warning cry, coming so suddenly, startled and confused Cutbush. The result was that he sharply twisted the rudder the wrong way, sending the flat farther toward the sh.o.r.e, and in a direction where the depth of the channel was very doubtful.

Cutbush did not discover his mistake until the others called his attention to it. Then he saw what they meant. Close ahead a triangular promontory of rock and timber jutted in a gradual slope some forty yards beyond the normal line of the bank, and thirty feet straight out from its apex lay the island to which G.o.dfrey had reference. The location was an odd one, and it was a decidedly queer-looking island--a long, narrow cl.u.s.ter of bushy pine trees, pointing up and down stream, and thickly fringed at its base with bushes that seemed to grow straight out of the water.

"It's risky to try that pa.s.sage," said Barnabas, pointing to the thirty-foot channel between island and promontory, whither the flat was now steadily drifting. "We may find shoals there."

"I give the rudder a wrong turn without thinkin'," muttered Cutbush.

"But it's not shoals I'm afraid of. If we float down yonder I won't have time to steer for the rift through the falls, and they're only fifty yards below."

As he spoke he tried to rectify his mistake, and the first two sweeps of the rudder veered the nose of the flat away from the bank. The third swung it broadside across stream, and in this position it bore down on the little island, with a slight diagonal trend toward the wider and safer channel on the outer side. But there was hardly time for this movement to take effect, and the danger of striking was so apparent that Cutbush let go of the rudder--which was as good as useless while the flat was turned broadside--and s.n.a.t.c.hed up one of the poles. He drove it in off the stern, leaned after it till he almost stood on his head, and then rose up with both arms wet to the elbow.

"The pole won't touch!" he exclaimed. "There's easy twelve foot of water here."

"Twelve foot of water!" cried Barnabas; "an' that island only ten yards below! It ain't nateral, man!"

"We're going to strike the island," said Nathan. "Try again."

"No, it's all right," interposed Barnabas. "We're movin' slow, an' there ain't any gravel beach as I can see to stick on. The rear end will strike easy, an' then the flat will swing out toward the far channel."

So Cutbush dropped the pole and the boat drifted on broadside with the current, its occupants calmly waiting the moment of collision. As the distance decreased from ten yards to five, Barnabas craned his neck forward, and shaded his eyes to peer over the lower bulwark. "It's queer," he muttered. "I've been here before, an' I don't mind seein'

that--"

Just then a startling thing happened. The whole island was seen to lurch visibly to one side, and at the same instant something flashed and glittered amid the fringe of bushes.

"Look!" G.o.dfrey whispered, hoa.r.s.ely.

"Down for your lives, men!" yelled Barnabas. "It's a trap! Keep low, an'

don't let 'em get aboard."

The entire party dropped like a flash, and grabbed their muskets. A terrible instant of silence followed, broken by a howl from Cato and a whimper of fright from Molly, who was lying flat on the bottom in her mother's arms. Then a volley of shots rang out from the fiendishly contrived ambuscade, and more than one ball tore through the thick bulwark.

But happily no one was hurt, and Barnabas, McNicol, and Nathan at once fired through the three loopholes at which they were posted. A yell of agony blended with another fusillade from the unseen foe, and now a quicker current drove the heavy flat broadside against the mysterious little island.

There was a crash of timber meeting timber and a sound of branches smiting the water. Then, with shrill and blood-curdling yells, four painted Indians scrambled over the bulwark and dropped into the boat. At the same instant a little one-eyed man, holding a musket high overhead in one hand, pulled himself aboard at the bow.

CHAPTER XIII

IN WHICH NATHAN MAKES A PERILOUS SWIM

It is more than likely that the Senecas and their white allies underestimated the strength of the party in the flat, or else the discovery and demolition of their ambuscade drove them to such desperate measures. At all events, they speedily found they had made a mistake, and in the brief and sharp struggle that followed they got scarcely a show.

Of the four Indians who scrambled over the bulwark three cleared the crouching men and landed beyond them, and the fourth fell heavily on top of Barnabas and McNicol. Before he could use his tomahawk he was pounced upon by the Scotchman, and the two began a lively scuffle.

Mrs. Cutbush carried a loaded pistol at her waist, and while she pushed Molly behind her with one hand, with the other the courageous woman drew the weapon and shot one of the three remaining Indians through the head. The second managed to inflict a severe slash with his tomahawk on Cato's arm, and then Barnabas knocked him senseless with the b.u.t.t of his musket. The third did not wait to be killed, but with a screech, vaulted over the far side of the boat and disappeared, narrowly escaping a shot that Cutbush sent after him.

At that moment the Seneca who was struggling with McNicol broke away, leaving his tomahawk in the other's hand, and, as he bounded for freedom, Morgan Proud jumped in front of him. They grappled, and fell heavily against the bulwark. The wall of timbers gave way under the strain and both splashed into the river.

There was a quick rush to that side to help Proud, but he and the Indian had disappeared utterly.

As the missing man's friends anxiously scanned the water, a Tory belonging to the attacking party scrambled up in the stern of the boat.

McNicol instantly saw him and fired, and the man dropped back with a cry.

Meanwhile, during the entire struggle, Simon Gla.s.s had been crouching unseen amid the deep shadows at the bow of the flat, from which place of vantage he had more than one opportunity for a certain shot at his enemies. Now, just as McNicol fired at the Tory in the stern, Nathan caught sight of the figure at the opposite end. With his empty musket in his hand the lad ran toward the spot, little dreaming of the man's ident.i.ty, or that he was affording Gla.s.s just the opportunity for which he had been watching and waiting.

The ruffian rose a little higher, leveled his rifle, and fired. But for the second time he missed his victim at close range, the ball whizzing within a fraction of an inch of Nathan's ear. The report drew the attention of the others, and G.o.dfrey discovered and shot at the Tory just as he made a bound to escape. He half jumped, half fell, into the water, and all ran eagerly to the bow of the boat, which was now drifting slowly down to the falls.

"Was that Simon Gla.s.s, lad?" exclaimed Barnabas.

"Yes," declared Nathan, "and he very nearly finished me!"

"There he is!" cried G.o.dfrey, as a dark object rose to the surface near the verge of the falls. An instant later it slipped over and vanished, nor could it be seen again. Equally futile was the search for Morgan Proud and the Indian; beyond a doubt they had perished together.

"It's no use," muttered Barnabas. "Poor Proud is gone. But I have my doubts about that Tory ruffian. He's got as many lives as a cat, an'

it's possible he's makin' for sh.o.r.e now, out of sight yonder below the falls."

"Where's the rest of the party?" said McNicol. "It ain't possible we cleaned them all up. We'd better be looking." With this he led his companions back to the stern, past the bodies of the two Indians. Mrs.

Cutbush was engaged in binding up Cato's wounded arm, and Molly was sobbing hysterically from fright as she clung to her mother's gown.

The whole affair had transpired in such brief time that the c.u.mbrous boat had moved only a short distance. In plain view above was the mysterious little island, now readily seen to be a long, narrow canoe trimmed with bushes and pine boughs. The collision with the flat had upset it, but it still rested stationary on the water, showing that it was anch.o.r.ed.

There was no sound or motion in the near vicinity, but a subdued splas.h.i.+ng in the channel between the canoe and the promontory told clearly enough that some survivors of the enemy were swimming to the sh.o.r.e.

"It ain't likely they can do us any more harm," said Barnabas, "for I reckon their guns an' powder are wet. Of all the infernal tricks I've heard of, that was the neatest. They got ahead of us by land, run across that canoe somewhere, an' anch.o.r.ed it yonder, where they knew we'd have to pa.s.s within close range."