Steve followed suit, and very soon the two were discussing the wild
turkey.

Some three weeks later, as Steve and Sammy were engaged in
manufacturing maple sugar, Tom came and sat on a log close by and
watched them carefully. They had three large iron cauldrons dangling
over log fires, while a fourth, a smaller one, hung over a separate
fire placed some yards from the others. And here they were making a
store of sugar to last them throughout the winter. Very early that day
Sammy and Steve had been out in the forest, and having blazed certain
of the maples, had set their jars beneath the slashes to catch the
sap. And now they were boiling the latter down, throwing fresh sap
into the larger cauldrons as the bubbling mass threatened to overflow
the sides. It was a long process, and for some hours now they had been
engaged in the task. They had boiled and boiled the mass till their
store of sap was reduced to a third of its former volume, and now that
third was placed in the smaller cauldron. Tom watched as they lifted
the latter from its iron support and poured its contents into stone
vessels to crystallise and cool.

"Steve," he called out. "Steve, I'm going away. I'll be back in a
couple of months if nothing turns up to stop me."

Steve was not surprised. His father had gone away from the settlement
on some business on several occasions before, while he had remained to
keep house.

"Very well, father," he said. "I'll stay here and look out for your
return. It will be winter almost by the time you come back."

"Almost, lad. About the Indian summer, I fancy, Steve."

He looked closely at his son as he called him again.

"Steve, my lad, these are uncertain times, and--and I might not have a
chance of coming back. If I should not, there is a lot that you should
learn in the next few years. Things you have never dreamed of. If I am
not back in a year, if anything happens to me, just go to this address
and hand in this letter. There it is. Now, I'm going."

It was not the backwoods fashion to take long in preparing for a
journey, and so it happened that Tom Mainwaring set out for the
Alleghany within half an hour of his conversation with Steve. They
parted some ten miles from the log hut, Tom turning his face for the
coast, while our hero stepped back to the settlement. And there for a
little more than a month he went on quietly with the usual routine. He
fished and shot and laid in a store of corn and dried bear's meat for
the coming winter, the grinning Sammy looking after the log hut when
he was away. Now and again, too, Mac and Jim would come over and spend
an evening with him, while Steve would return the visit. For within
ten miles of the hut there were some fifteen families, and it was the
custom for all to visit one another.

And so the days passed uneventfully till one bright morning in late
September, when there was a crispness in the air which denoted the
coming winter. A shout from Sammy brought Steve to the door of the log
hut.

"Marse Steve," he cried. "There's people sure on the water. They's
comin' dis way."

Two canoes were being paddled down the river, and as Steve looked they
turned towards the bank, with the evident intention of putting in at
the rough landing stage where his own canoes lay.

"They are strangers," said Steve at once, shading his eyes from the
slanting rays of the sun. "There are three white men in the first
canoe, and three Indians in the second. I think that they have come
from the French settlements."

He went to the buck horns over which his gun was suspended, and slung
the weapon across his shoulders. Then he took his bullet pouch, his
powder horn and tomahawk, and issued from the hut. By this time the
strangers had landed, and as Steve walked down towards them the three
white men moved towards a giant tree which grew within a few paces of
the bank, a tree which stood alone amidst a host of blackened stumps;
for when Tom had first come to the place virgin forest covered the
land, and he had expended much labour in clearing it.

"What can they be doing?" wondered Steve, seeing the three halt at the
foot of the tree and lift an object against the trunk. "They seem to
be nailing something to the tree."

A few minutes later he arrived within a couple of yards of the group,
and at once unslung his rifle, for with a start he recognised one of
the strangers. It was Jules Lapon, dressed now in the hunting costume
worn by French and English backwoodsmen alike.

"Bon jour, monsieur," said Jules, swinging round and greeting
Steve with a cool and satirical smile. "I wish you a fine day and
prosperity. You will be pleased to look at this notice, and afterwards
you will take steps to move."

He pointed to the tree and stood aside, watching Steve with an
expression which boded little good, and which seemed to combine malice
and triumph. Our hero stepped closer and stared at the strip of tin
which the Frenchman had pointed out. It was nailed to the bark of
the tree, and bore in high relief the arms of France, while beneath,
stamped on to the metal, were the following words, in the English
language:

"In the name of Louis XV., King of France and of the Continent beyond
the sea, we, Louis Joseph, Marquis de Montcalm-Gozon de Saint-Véran,
Captain-General of the Forces in North America, and others of the
King's servants, renew our possession of this land. We warn all who
are not good and faithful subjects of France to depart peacefully and
without delay."

There was a date and a rough signature underneath, while at the foot
of the tree lay a leaden disc, with a somewhat similar inscription,
destined to be buried there so that there might not be wanting
evidence in the future to prove the aims and aspirations of France
and her king. Nor was this the first time that Steve had looked at
such a disc. Some while before he had come upon another, nearer the
great lakes, and he had heard that the French had placed many more in
different parts.

"You will observe his Majesty's wishes," said Jules Lapon, with an
irritating smile of triumph which brought a flush of anger to Steve's
cheek. "The orders are that you depart peacefully and without delay.
You will go this evening. To-morrow I and my Indians will come to your
hut and the place will be France. Comprenez vous? Bien!"

Steve could have struck the rascally Frenchman, so great was his
anger. Moreover, when he recollected that it was this same ruffianly
foreigner who but a few weeks before had hunted himself and his
friends with his band of cut-throats, he felt that he would be almost
justified in shooting him where he stood. Then, too, there was this
preposterous demand. For three miles on either hand the land belonged
to Tom Mainwaring. He had paid dues for it to a land company, and he
had settled the place. His labour had cleared the forest till there
was sufficient open space to grow corn. The hut was his, the bank
of the river, and a stretch on the far side lying opposite the hut.
Steve's gorge rose at the thought that a Frenchman should order him
to give up his own belongings, and it was with difficulty that he
restrained himself. He bit his lip, stared at the tin placard, and
then swung round on the Frenchman, a cool smile on his lips.

"You are joking," he said in French, causing Jules to start backwards
in surprise. "Surely you are playing with me, just as you and your
band of Indians played with our hunting party in the neighbourhood of
Albany. That was a sad joke, monsieur. I fear that we were too much in
earnest."

It was Steve's turn to laugh, for there was no doubt that the
Frenchman was utterly taken aback. He staggered, flushed to the roots
of his hair, and gripped at his tomahawk.

"You lie," he gasped. "I lead a band of redskins near Albany! You lie,
I say!"

"You say so, monsieur," replied Steve calmly, with a smile which
maddened Jules. "Yes, it is you who say that, and I hear. But my eyes
are good. I know that you led that band. It was I who saw you in the
camp which you had hidden in the forest."

"You saw the camp, and I was in it? And you say that it was near
Albany? Monsieur is mad, or he does not know how to tell the truth."

Jules mastered his rage and mortification and made a bold attempt
to deceive the young colonist. After all, he thought, it was more
than possible that this Steve might have seen him there. But then
Frenchmen were much alike, and the glimpse he had obtained could have
been but a glimpse after all: and besides, Jules reflected, at that
time he was dressed as an Indian.

"Does monsieur think that I am a bird?" he demanded brazenly. "I have
lands to look to across the river, and how can I be there and at
Albany?"

"I hardly think you could be in two places so far apart, at one and
the same time," answered Steve, his temper well in hand now. "After
all, it is sufficient for me to know that you were in that camp in the
woods at Albany, where Hunting Jim and I saw you distinctly. That was
a long chase, Monsieur Jules, and I fancy it must have been somewhat
of a surprise to you and your men to come across so small a band
prepared to make a fight of it. Your men must have been discontented.
I believe we killed ten at least."

This time he left no doubt in the Frenchman's mind that his rascality
was discovered, and as Steve looked down at him he saw a gleam of
malice light up the eyes of the ruffian, a gleam which seemed to
say, "I will kill you at the first opportunity, Steve Mainwaring."
Then Jules Lapon suddenly changed his intentions, a smile of triumph
wreathed his face, and he pointed to the placard on the tree.

"After all, monsieur, it is not a question of men who have been
killed, or of my presence at Albany," he said easily. "It is a
question of this notice. You have read it?"

"I have."

"Then you will obey?"

"If I do not? Supposing I stay?"

"Monsieur, you see this whistle?" Jules took a whistle, made of horn,
from his belt, and held it before Steve's eyes. "You observe that
little toy, monsieur? Ah. Now I will tell you. Supposing you are so
rash as to stay, I shall blow that whistle, and within an hour the far
shore of the river will be darkened by the boats of my friends."

"Cut-throat Indians, monsieur," said Steve.

"You will be careful to describe my friends properly," cried Jules,
making an obvious effort to control his anger. "I was saying that the
Indians would come. They would hound you and your friends out of this
settlement, and, after that, who can keep a check upon them?"

He shrugged his shoulders and looked significantly at his two comrades.

"Only the men with the guns," answered Steve. "I know your Indians,
monsieur, and I know also that they have ravaged our settlements
cruelly. But for all your threats, I will not give up my father's
property. He was here long before the French had advanced south of
Lake Erie. He paid for this land, and he has expended labour upon it.
It is his. No king of France or his servants shall demand it of him or
of me."

Steve looked the three Frenchmen calmly in the eyes, and then stepped
up to the tree. Plunging his hunting knife under the sheet of tin, he
levered it from the bark, and, tearing it free of the nail, threw it
into the river.

"That is what I think of your demand and of your placard, Jules
Lapon," he said, "and I promise that if you come with your Indians
and drive me away, I and my father will hound you off the place. For
a time we English may be beaten back. But, mark my words, we shall
regain our own again, and you will be defeated."

There was a shout as he went to the tree and tossed the inscription
into the water. Then no sooner had he spoken than Jules sprang at him
with an oath.

"You defy us. You defy me!" he shouted. "Then listen to this, you
Englishman. Go now. I will give you a minute. If you are not then out
of sight I will shoot you. Yes, I will shoot you as I had hoped to do
up on the Mohawk. And after that I shall live in your cabin."

He threw all secrecy to the winds, and lifting his musket presented
it at Steve's head. Indeed, for an instant or two it looked as if he
would have shot him down on the spot.

"You see that I am ready," he shouted, as he looked along the sights.
"Run for your life."

Steve was cornered. To turn and obey the command given him was the
most natural thing under the circumstances, and it may be wondered
that he did not do so. But he knew the methods of the backwoods, and
was well acquainted with the reputation of this Frenchman.

"He will shoot me as I walk," he thought. "I will stay and face him.
After all, one can dodge a bullet sometimes if one keeps one's eye
on the weapon. Monsieur, I will stay here. Get into your canoe and
retire," he said sternly. "I also will shoot you if you do not lower
that musket."

There was a shout of surprise and anger from the two who accompanied
Jules, and they at once sprang forward and lifted their muskets,
levelling the barrels at Steve's head. And there for a moment they
stood, Steve holding his ground stubbornly, while the Frenchmen looked
along their sights as if they were about to shoot at the defenceless
figure standing before them. Then the scene was unexpectedly
interrupted.

"That air enough. Put them shootin' irons down. Do yer hear?" A gruff
voice suddenly burst from the edge of the forest, some twenty paces
away, and the tall gaunt figure of Hunting Jim appeared amidst the
leaves, the autumn tints matching strangely with the colour of his
hunting shirt and his leggings. "Drop yer guns, and git!"

No wonder that the Frenchmen started, that Steve swung round with
a cry of delight. For not a sound had warned the disputants of the
approach of the trapper. He stood there, outlined grimly amidst the
leaves, for all the world as if he had sprung out of the ground. His
musket was gripped in his hands, while the long shining barrels of
two other weapons protruded from the trees on either hand.

"Yer see, we ain't quite alone," he said hoarsely, "and ef them guns
ain't down in a jiffy--ah! that air well for yer. Now Jules Lapon,
murderer and robber, I reckon you can git, you and the hul crowd. Ef
we had shot yer down as yer stood, we'd have done what was right, and
p'raps we'd have saved a hangman a bad job one of these days. Git,
that's the order!"

The tables were suddenly turned with a vengeance. Steve, standing
there bravely with three barrels presented at him, suddenly found
himself looking into three very startled faces. The Frenchmen stepped
backward involuntarily, and lowered their weapons as Jim began to
speak. Then, unable to face the guns which were directed at them, they
glanced at one another swiftly, turned, and made off at a run to their
canoe.

"Stop! Jest drop them muskets. That air the ticket. Now put yer knives
and tomahawks down, and Jules Lapon, you as wanted to get our scalps
over by Albany, jest hook that ere whistle out'er yer belt. Now yer
can go, and jest remember this. When we meet again there won't be no
warnin'. It'll be shoot at sight. Don't ax fer nor expect no favors."

Jim watched with a grim smile of triumph as the three disconsolate
Frenchmen put down their weapons and embarked. Then he and his
comrades emerged and took up their stations beside Steve, staring out
at the canoe as it stole away from the bank. More than a minute passed
before Steve turned to look at those who had come so opportunely to
his help. Beside the lanky form of Jim was Mac, his beard flaming
in the sun, his broad hand gripping the stock of his musket, and a
look of bitterness on his usually jolly features. On the other side,
impassive as was his custom and the habit of his race, his head thrown
forward and the feathers of his head-dress trailing down over his
shoulders, was Silver Fox, alert and vigilant, his eye following every
movement of the Frenchmen.

"Bad cess to the blackguards," cried Mac, a note of unusual bitterness
in his tones. "They kin hunt me and you, Jim, and young Steve here
too if they like, but faith whin they come to huntin' the women and
childer it makes me blood boil. For why can't they lave us alone? What
have we done to the bastes to set thim agin the whole of us?"

"You've got land," answered Jim shortly. "That's what you've got.
You've gone and put yer broad carcass in the way of this here King of
France. Steve, reckon this placard air worth keepin'."

He stepped to the bank of the river, waded in a little way and
recovered the plaque, the sun glancing from the bright tin having made
its position clear to those standing on the shore.

"Best keep it, lad," he went on. "It'll mind yer of a time when yer
was precious near to death, and of the pluck as a youngster kin show.
Reckon you stood up to them 'ere skunks as well as any man could ha
done."

There was a murmur of approval from the others, while Steve shook his
head.

"I wasn't going to be frightened by a canoe full of Frenchmen," he
said doggedly. "This place is ours, and if this king wants it let him
come and take it. The best man will hold it in the end. But I suspect
it is not his Majesty of France. Louis XV. can have no great use for
our little holding. But Jules Lapon has. He owns the ground on the far
side next to father's, and with ours thrown in he'd have the whole of
the river banks for three miles either way."

"You've hit it, Steve. It air that skunk as brought this bit of tin
along, and it air him as wants the place," cried Jim, staring out
across the river at the fast-retreating canoes. "What is more, lad,
he's goin' to have it for a time. Me and Mac and Silver Fox guessed as
there was somethin' up, and ever since daylight we've had our eyes on
the varmint. There was a lot too much movement amongst the Injuns, and
we reckoned it didn't mean good to us. Them critters has nailed their
bits of tin at three other places along this bank, and they air going
to take the land whether we want it or not."

"Do you actually mean that they will drive us out of the place?" asked
Steve.

"That air so. There's news comin' slowly through that the French and
their Injuns is movin' on and drivin' the British before 'em. There's
tales of settlements attacked and taken, men and women scalped,
and children carried off by them redskin devils. We've heard the
same before, and I don't know how it is that we along here at this
settlement have escaped so long. But reckon these fellers is out on
the war-path agin, and, lad, we've got to git."

Go! They must leave the place where Steve had lived ever since he was
a tiny little fellow. The log cabin which was his home must be given
up to these Frenchmen and their allies! The thought was a cruel one,
and it is not to be wondered at that an exclamation of bitterness
escaped him.

"Faith, Steve, me lad, it's hard to think on, so it is," said Mac,
coming to him and placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Hasn't
Mac and the loikes of him settled peaceful here? hasn't the wives
and the childer made homes for all of us, so they have? But ye've
to choose what's the best. To see these thavin' damons here in our
very own places, or to see ivery mother's son of us, and the women
and childer too--God bless the darlints!--scalped and kilt by these
fellers. Sure, Steve, better to see the settlements burn, to put fires
to ivery roof and watch 'em flare, than have them fellers settin' in
our doorways, or scalpin' all of us. Och, but it's a sore time for us,
a sore time, and we'll have to foight before we get back what's our
own. Bedad! Ye'll know soon, Steve, darlint. 'Tis you and me, and Jim
and Silver Fox, and ivery one of us, as'll take our muskets and go out
to foight the blackguards."

"Mac's jest talkin' sense. Reckon it air as he says, Steve," cried
Jim. "Yer was near bein' wiped clean out jest now, and if yer wait
it'll be a case with yer. Best get back to the hut and take what yer
want. You've a bit of a pony, and I fancy you'll be able to take
most of yer things. Then set fire to the place. We'll cross to the
Alleghanies, and then we'll take service with the regiments which are
bein' formed."

Steve stood looking at his rough but honest-hearted friends for some
few minutes, and then his eyes roamed across the peaceful stretch of
the river to the far bank, under the shade of which Jules Lapon and
his comrades were paddling. Then the whistle which the French leader
had dropped caught his attention, and he stared at that, too, for a
little while.

"Father would do the same," he said aloud, but addressing no one in
particular. "Yes, he would go, after firing the hut. There is no other
course open. We have often talked over the possible coming of the
French, and decided that we should have to retire unless supported by
troops. But they are nowhere here. We have only ourselves to rely on.
We must go."

He led the way to the log cabin, and at once set about packing the
most valuable of his and Tom's possessions. Sammy led out the old pony
which was usually employed in dragging timber, and roped the articles
to his back, big tears welling up in his eyes as he did so. When all
was ready Steve took a brand from the fire, looked once more upon his
old home, the cabin in which he had lived sixteen happy years, and
then fired the shingles. There was an air of resolution on his face as
he did so, and he stood to windward watching the flames as they caught
hold and licked round the logs with the same expression. Then, as the
roof fell in and huge tongues of flame flared up into the air, he
turned away with a smile.

"I will help to build a mansion where that happy home was," he said.
"Come Jim and Mac, and you too, Silver Fox, old friends, we will go
where we can be of use to our country, and one of these days we will
settle again in these parts, when the French have been driven into
Canada."

"When they have been sent neck and crop out of North America," growled
Jim. "Pick up yer traps, Steve. The other folks air waitin' for us way
up there back of the rise."

Sammy took the rope bridle of the laden animal, and the trappers and
their Indian friend fell in behind. And thus did Steve leave his home,
not to return again till many an adventure had befallen him, and not
till many and many a man had fallen in the contest which was about to
break out with a ferocity which was almost unexampled.

Chapter VII

The Alleghany Raiders

Sad and heavy of heart were the settlers whom Steve and his friends
met at the top of the divide which ran between the valley in which
they had lived and the forest region beyond, stretching right away to
the Alleghany mountains; for each one of the forty or more persons
of whom the party consisted had just lost home and belongings. Men,
women, and children had been forced to turn out of their log cabins
and take to the woods.

"It air a shame and no mistake," said Jim as the men of the party
gathered about Steve's pony and discussed the matter. "But there's
jest one thing that makes it easy so to speak."

"Easy! Yer don't call it an easy thing to have to fire the hut
that took so long to build, do yer, Huntin' Jim?" cried one of the
trappers, Pete Jarvis by name, his brows contracting as his bitterness
increased. "Yer don't say as it's an easy thing fer a man what's fifty
and more to turn his back on what he's given years of his life to
make, to steal like a skunk out'er these woods, where he's trapped
and shot, and with his wife and children take the trail back to the
west. Yer don't think that, Huntin' Jim. It's hard enough to break a
man's heart."

"It air all that and more, chum," was Jim's consoling answer.
"Neither me nor you, nor Mac, nor Steve, the young Hawk as he's known
hereabouts, likes havin' to git at the word of them 'ere Frenchies.
But fer all that I'm right. Ef it war winter where should we be?"

"'Tis then the poor childer would suffer, so they would," burst in
Mac. "Sure, 'twould be the death of many a one, the poor darlints.
Jim's right, so he is, Pete. We're lucky afther all."

Pete scratched his head at that, for the matter had never crossed his
mind before. He had looked at this sudden exodus from a different
point of view, and he was filled with bitterness and wrath. Still, now
that he came to review the case, he saw that Jim was right.

"That air true," he admitted. "We've got a heap to be thankful for,
and now that you've put it before me, why I'm downright glad that the
time has come now, and not later. Still, boys, it air hard."

"It is, more than hard," agreed Steve. "But we still have something to
be thankful for. We've been hearing tales of other settlements, and
they have not even been able to leave. The Indians gave no warning.
The French did not trouble to come along with their ridiculous bits
of tin, but raided the places, burnt the huts, and massacred the poor
settlers."

"And why ain't they done it here?" demanded Jim eagerly, clenching a
big brown fist. "I'll tell yer, Steve, and you too Pete. It's 'cos
that feller Jules Lapon air in these parts. Reckon he wanted them
huts and crops. He don't want to walk in and find the hul place burnt
by his Injuns. So he sends along and gives us the warnin' to quit,
knowin' that once we've took the trail he can send the hul crowd of
his Injun varmint after us. Waal. He ain't a goin' to get the huts,
'cos we've put fire to 'em, and the crops got served the same way. Ef
we look after ourselves reckon he and them ugly red critters won't
have such an easy time of it. We'd best get the business settled up."

There was, indeed, little doubt that the danger which had suddenly
burst about the heads of the settlers was a real one, and that now
that the Indians had risen in those parts, the party might be followed
and attacked. For the past four or five months tales of massacres
of English colonists had come to the ears of Steve and his friends.
All along the border-line huts and settlements had been raided, too
often suddenly and without any warning, and hundreds of unfortunate
men, women, and children had been killed and scalped. An Indian war
of the most ferocious description had been raging here and there on
the eastern slopes of the Alleghany mountains, and in many places
the enemy had burst over that range and had annihilated settlements
on the far side. Marching with the Indians, egging them on, and
sometimes vying with them in their cruel practices, were scores of
French _voyageurs_ and settlers, and even many young officers from
the regular forces; whilst behind these leaders, stimulating them
with promises of land, and aiding them with money, guns, and powder,
were the authorities living in Quebec. It was really a matter for
wonder that Steve and his friends had not been disturbed before,
for they had carved out from the virgin forests a most valuable
settlement, and one which may be said to have stood in the direct
line of the French advance. It may have been that they owed their
security from interference so far to the fact that the land nearest
to them was owned by Jules Lapon, and he happened to be away in other
parts murdering and slaying, and taking stores from any party of
trappers who happened to stumble across his path. Or this ruffian
may have purposely kept his Indian allies away, having determined to
obtain possession of such a valuable clearing. Whatever the cause, it
happened that this particular settlement had escaped till now, and had
been left so long without interference that many who lived there were
beginning to hope that the impending storm might after all pass over
their heads. And now, with scarcely any warning, the cloud had burst.
They had been ordered to quit, and to leave all that they possessed.
It was more than hard. It was cruel to think that these hardy
trappers, the pioneers of the land, had no one to look to for help,
and must needs pack up hastily and fly for their lives at the bidding
of a French monarch whose name had barely come to their ears.

"It does not help us to look upon the hardship of our case, boys,"
said Steve, as the men stood about him, dressed in their hunting
shirts, their coon-skin caps, their fringed leggings and moccasins.
"We ought to feel glad that we and the women and children are alive,
and our business now is to make arrangements for our journey. Which
way do we make?"

"Due west," answered Jim, with an emphatic wag of his head. "Up there
somewheres on the Alleghanies we'll hit upon colonial troops. There
ain't many of 'em, but they'll be enough to keep these redskin skunks
away, and any of us as has a mind to can take on service with 'em. Ef
we was to make north and west, up towards Albany----"

"Reckon that air out of the question," interrupted Pete. "I'm farthest
over in that direction, and Silver Fox here can tell you that an army
could not get through. West air our only way."

This was, in fact, the only direction in which the little party could
make, for Silver Fox had brought information that roving bands of
Indians were on the war-path between the settlement and Albany.

"Then we will turn west," said Steve. "We have got to protect
ourselves, and I should say that the best way would be to send the
women and children and half the men ahead, while we others wait and
cover the retreat. I suppose we shall make for the old trail?"

"That air what we'll do," replied Jim. "Now, as we're all here,
supposin' we pick out those who air to stay. Married men goes in
advance ef possible. Mac, guess you'll lead. You're a good trapper and
woodsman, and yer know that it'll want a 'cute man to see that the
way's clear. Me and Steve and a few others'll take the rear."

With such matter-of-fact individuals, accustomed to acting swiftly
and in sudden emergencies, it took only a few minutes to arrange the
details of their flight, and very soon the party chosen to go in
advance had moved off through the forest, Mac leading and searching
closely for the blazings on the trees which would tell him that he had
come across the trail which led to the mountains. After him went the
married men, with their wives and children. The ponies, upon the backs
of which the children and some of the women were mounted, were placed
in line, and, being thoroughly well trained to work in the forest,
stepped one after another along the track. Their rear was brought up
by Sammy, leading the lanky pony upon which all Tom's and Steve's
possessions were packed.

"Guess we'll give 'em a good hour's start," said Steve. "Jim, I'll
make back and keep an eye on the river with Silver Fox. If all is
right I'll strike once on the trunk of a tree. If they are following
you will hear two blows."

He and the Indian slipped away from the little band of backwoodsmen,
and within an hour were looking down upon the river which they had so
recently left. It was black with canoes which were passing to and fro,
while a number were drawn up in front of the bank where Steve had had
his encounter with Jules Lapon. Above the tops of the trees hung a
dense pall of smoke, a dozen other columns shewing where the settlers
had fired their huts.

"They will follow to-morrow, Hawk," said Silver Fox, when he had
looked at the scene for some little while. "They think that they will
easily come up with us. In two days they will surround our party and
we shall have to fight. It would be well to ambush them."

That set Steve thinking, and for an hour he lay there in the bracken
staring down at the river. Then he got to his feet, picked up a fallen
branch and struck the trunk of a massive tree a heavy blow, repeating
the blow again some two minutes later.

"They will hear that," he said. "Now we will return, Silver Fox. Have
you ever been on this trail?"

"Once, Hawk," was the answer.

"Do you remember the hills lying a day's march from this? There is a
gap."

The Indian suddenly came to a stop, for they were returning by now,
and stared into Steve's face. "The Hawk is sharp," he said, with a
flash of his keen eyes. "Silver Fox remembers that gap. There we will
lay an ambush."

They trudged on through the forest and presently came up with Jim
and his comrades. Then, with two men scouting in the woods on either
side, and the same number in rear and in front, the tiny little party
of stern men strode on after the fugitives in advance. And when the
morning of the second day broke they struggled up to the rising
ground which Steve had mentioned to Silver Fox. It was a rugged and
precipitous ridge, with trees growing thickly up to its foot, and
thick, long scrub running to its summit. As Steve clambered to the top
he saw that it stretched for some miles on either hand, and he knew
that to cross it at any other spot would be a difficult task, for he
and his father had often hunted in the district.

"It is just the place for us," he said to Jim, as the trapper and some
of his comrades gathered about him. "From the forest down below the
Indians who are pursuing will be able to get a glimpse of our party
after it has climbed over this ridge, for the land rises again, and
you can see for yourself that it towers above this place. Now what
do you say to this? We send on the best of the horses, with all the
women and children, and instruct them to get ahead to that piece of
open country to which I am pointing. Meanwhile, we will lie here and
prepare a nice little ambush."

"While the women and children draw the varmint into it," cried Jim,
with every sign of satisfaction. "Steve, you air 'cute. I 'lowed that
many a day ago, but here yer air agin. Boys, that air a plan that's
worth workin'."

The spot was, in fact, an ideal one for an ambush, and Steve had had
it in his mind's eye the whole of the previous two days, for he was
well acquainted with the district. As he had said, this steep rocky
ridge cut across the course of the fugitives, running for many miles
on either hand. In many places it was almost unclimbable, and at this
point it happened to be less severe, so much so that many a colonist
making east into the promised land, the valley of the Ohio, had
followed the blaze marks of those who had gone before him, and had
clambered over the rise where others had found a road. It was the most
natural thing, therefore, for this party of fugitives to take the same
track, and indeed it was the only course that they could take. The
Indians would know this, so Steve argued, and there was little doubt
that by now they were within a few miles of the ridge. What would
happen when they came up to it?

"They will climb over and wipe the whole lot of us out," our hero had
said to himself. "We must stop them here if at all."

Then, as he tramped through the forest on the previous day, he had
recollected that in approaching the ridge from the Ohio valley one
caught a glimpse every now and again of the track far in advance, for
the country to the west rose again, less sharply to be sure, but to a
greater elevation. A party making their way over that second rise in
the land would be instantly detected by the Indian pursuers, who would
imagine that all their pale face enemies were there.

"It is our only chance," said Steve, as the men gathered about him.
"Our scouts in rear have not yet signalled, so we know that the enemy
are not yet up with us, though they were on our trail last night. Then
we have plenty of time. In an hour the ponies, with the women and
children, will be on the high ground beyond, and when the Indians see
them----"

"They'll come streamin' up this ridge like hounds," growled Jim. "This
air the place to stop 'em. You place the boys, my lad."

Very rapidly and coolly Steve told the trappers off to their posts,
cautioning them that there was not to be a sound till he fired his
musket. Then he himself took cover close to the edge of the track
and waited. Presently two slim figures appeared down below, flitting
between the trees, and the trappers left behind as scouts began to
climb the ridge.

"A hundred of the varmint full on the trail," whispered one as he lay
down beside Steve. "We watched 'em till half an hour ago, and then me
and Stubbs come along at a dog trot. They'll be in sight in less than
no time. Reckon they'll spot the rest of our party. They air right up
there on the high ground beyond, and yer can sight 'em ploddin' along
beside the ponies."

[Illustration: "STEVE RESTED HIS BARREL IN THE FORK OF A DWARFED
TREE"]

"Hist! That air one of the skunks."

Jim, who happened to be next to Steve, lifted a warning finger and
then pointed below. A painted redskin, hideous in his feathered
war-gear, slipped like a shadow from the trees and stood in the open,
staring up over the ridge to the high land beyond. They saw him turn
and call softly, and then, one by one, some hundred of his comrades
flitted up to his side and stood staring at the white fugitives
beyond. Some danced with joy and brandished their tomahawks, while one
of their number turned and addressed them.

"My children, these pale faces are ours," he said. "Within the hour
their scalps shall hang at our belts. Climb the rise and enter the
trees. Do not make a sound till they are enclosed by us. Then rush
upon them and slay."

He pointed to the ridge, and, leaping forward, led the way up the
steep ascent. And as the whole party followed, their eyes fixed upon
their leader or upon the summit of the rise, some twenty ponderous
muskets went to as many stout shoulders, and sights were levelled upon
the redskin demons clambering up the track. Steve rested his muzzle
in the fork of a dwarfed tree and aligned the sights on the feathered
chief who led the party. And there he waited, his cheek well down
on the stock, his eye glued to the sights, and his finger pressing
ever so gently on the trigger. He was as steady as the fork in which
his weapon rested, for Steve was a hardened fighter by now, and he
knew that the lives of all the women and children depended on the
coolness and courage of himself and his comrades. He allowed nothing
to frighten him, and where many would have pulled the trigger out of
sheer excitement and inability to put up with the suspense any longer,
he crouched there waiting, waiting.

"About thirty yards I make it," he said to himself at last. "I'll give
him another two seconds. That will get the others up a little closer.
We want our bullets to strike more than one of the ruffians."

Suddenly there was a loud report, a spurt of flame lit up the shadow
in which he lay, while the leader of the Indians threw his hands
into the air, howled in the most diabolical manner, and then fell
backwards, to go sliding and bumping down the track till a fallen
tree arrested further progress. A second later a volley came from the
surrounding bushes, from behind rocks and boulders, while a storm of
bullets plunged into the very centre of the huddled enemy. When the
smoke blew away, Steve and his friends looked down upon an almost
deserted track, cleared of Indians save for the bodies which lay prone
on the hill-side or which rolled and slid down towards the bottom.
Here and there in amongst the bushes on either hand the crash of a
bough told that the enemy was there, but those sounds lasted only a
few seconds, and presently figures flitted in amongst the trees down
below.

"Them critters won't come to a stop till they've reached the river,"
laughed Jim, his face lighting up with joy. "Reckon they'll run till
they've come back to that 'ere Jules Lapon of theirs. Steve, reckon
you've jest saved us."

He stepped over to the young trapper and gripped him by the hand. "It
war your idea agin what brought us through," he said, "and it air you
as'll lead us out of this country. Boys, you've heard tell of our trip
up to Albany, and of how young Steve got on to the idea of them boats
and reeds. Waal, this here notion of an ambush air his. Ain't he fit
ter lead us?"

There was a shout of approval.

"He air all that," shouted Pete. "Hawk has made his name, and air real
keen and 'cute. Reckon I don't want no better leader, no more do any
of the others."

"Then, cap'n, you'll take on the command as before," said Jim easily.
"We air out of the muss with them 'ere beggars. What air we to do now?"

"Push on as fast as we are able," was our hero's answer, when he had
recovered from his embarrassment. "We will march with scouts out
behind and in front and on either side. I am hoping to reach the
mountains in four days."

The party pressed on after those in advance, and in due time came up
with them. And thus, taking the utmost precaution against attack from
the Indians, they marched through the forest in the direction of the
Alleghany mountains. Now and again they came upon an open space,
where the blackened logs spoke of a settlement which had been fired.
And often enough there were signs of the struggle which had taken
place. The bodies of murdered colonists lay among the grass, while
such relics of the former inhabitants as a tiny shoe, a rag doll, or
a wooden horse, caught the eyes of the men of the party and caused
them to grind their teeth and clench their fists. Men swore into their
beards, and in low tones vowed that they would repay the authors of
these massacres.

And so in time they came to the mountains, climbed the long and weary
foot hills, and at length struggled to the top, still surrounded by
the ever-present forest.

"We ain't far from white folks, cap'n," said Jim as the party began to
descend the far slopes. "Pete reports as he's dropped on fresh fires,
where the embers air quite warm; and there's been a hul lot of men
about stampin' the ground with hard-soled boots."

"Reckon there's men up there," suddenly exclaimed one of the trappers,
pointing to a high peak distinguishable above the forest trees.
"They've been watchin' us, and the sooner we let 'em know who we air
the better it'll be. They might be shootin' into us."

Steve at once sent off a couple of the backwoodsmen to speak to the
strangers, and in a little while his messengers came back with four
trappers similar to themselves. They were hardy-looking men, bearded
and bronzed, and dressed in the customary hunting shirt and leggings.

"Reckon you air lucky folk," said one, addressing Steve. "There's been
few come through safely since the French set them Injuns on. Have yer
had a muss with 'em?"

"We beat them back at the range," answered our hero. "We set a trap
for them, and they walked into it. That's the last we saw of them. But
we have passed many a ruined and burnt-out settlement."

"Ay, there's many of 'em, more's the shame. Ef we up here get news of
the comin' of the Injuns, why, we goes down and does what we can. But
it ain't often like that. They come down upon the settlements like a
hawk, and every one's wiped out. There ain't many settlements left.
They say as all the backwoods huts air fired and men scalped, and that
the bigger settlements just near the Alleghany range have also been
fired. Then some of the varmint have been over the range, and they've
wiped out big farms and hul villages. It makes a man swear to hear
it all, and to know that we can do nothing to prevent the murders.
But what can you expect when George has only a thousand men, same as
us, to look after four hundred miles of frontier? Why, there's Injuns
out all along the line from Western New York State right away down to
North Carolina."

Steve and his friends were indeed amazed at this statement. They
knew that an Indian war had been raging along the frontiers of the
thirteen States, but having been so cut off in the forests, little
news had come to their ears. They had learned that various expeditions
had been sent against the French and their allies, and that these
had for the most part been defeated or had failed to effect their
object. They knew too that massacres had taken place here and there.
But this was indeed news. It was terrible to learn that all along
this frontier, extending over some four hundred miles, farms and
settlements had been exterminated, that bands of Indians had ravaged
the possessions of the colonists, and had even carried their war over
the Alleghanies, wiping out the huts of the pioneers, which may be
called the first line of defences, then firing the settlements which
were not so far advanced, and which formed a second line, and finally,
throwing themselves upon a third and final line, that formed by the
more prosperous and more settled villagers on the eastern slopes of
the Alleghanies.

"But how have they been allowed to do all this?" demanded Steve,
indignantly. "Surely there are men in the colonies! Why, if this
sort of thing is allowed, the Indians will reach the coast, and will
massacre at Charlestown and other places."

He swung round on his companion, his face flushed and his eyes
flashing with indignation. Then he suddenly observed that a fifth
stranger, dressed as a hunter like the rest, but with something about
him which attracted more than usual attention, had joined the group,
slipping up to it unheard and unseen from the forest. He was tall and
lithe, some twenty-four years of age, and his keen blue eyes fixed
themselves on Steve's figure.

"Excuse me," he said, speaking with the voice of a man who had been
brought up in a town, "excuse me, sir, but what you say is hardly
likely to occur now. A year ago it seemed more than possible. But
perhaps you have not heard. At last the English Government is tired
of this massacre and this bullying. War has been declared, and troops
are coming to help us. You may ask why the colonies have not done
more. Pooh! They call a blush of shame to the cheek of every honest
and patriotic colonist. While the shrieks of these unhappy settlers
ring almost in their ears and almost within hearing of the coast
towns, these comfortable stay-at-home planters and traders and country
gentlemen sit in their council rooms and squabble. They set aside
all thought of assisting their hapless brothers and sisters, while
they heckle their unfortunate governors. But I must apologise again.
You must understand that I feel the position bitterly, for I have
had a hand in these troubles since the very commencement. Allow me
to introduce myself. I am George Washington, colonel commanding the
irregulars who have been given the task of defending four hundred
miles of frontier."

So this young and determined-looking man was George Washington, of
whom every trapper and hunter had heard. Steve regarded him with open
admiration, and then, stepping up to him, shook hands eagerly.

"It is a lucky day for us, then, Colonel," he said. "I am Steve
Mainwaring."

"Cap'n Steve, known as the Hawk amongst the Injuns," burst in Jim,
stretching out a big brown paw to grip that of the colonel. "Cap'n
Steve, Colonel, and as sharp and 'cute a fighter as ever I see.
How'dy?"

"I am glad to meet you, gentlemen," said the young colonial officer.
"You will come to our camp, where we will endeavour to make you
comfortable."

He took Steve by the arm and led the way through the forest. And very
soon the fugitives were in the middle of the hutted encampment where
George Washington and his men had their quarters. Huts were allotted
to the various families, while the colonel took Steve to his own log
house.

"Come with me, Steve," he said with a friendly smile. "I am rather
lonely, and it will be nice to have a companion to chat with. Besides,
I want to hear all about the backwoods and the troubles you have had
with the French and the Indians."

He led the way to an unpretentious hut, and very soon Steve was
stretched on a rough wooden form, staring at the embers and chatting
quietly with George Washington, even then a hero, and destined to
become one of the greatest of American citizens.

Chapter VIII

A Question of Territory

"Never before has this fine country seen such troubles," said Colonel
George Washington, as he sat puffing at his pipe and looking across
the wooden flooring of his hut at Steve's long and active figure. "You
have had fighting, you tell me. You will see more. We are only just
entering upon the struggle. Tell me, Steve, what do you propose to do?"

That was a question which our hero found some difficulty in answering.
But at length he rolled over on the form and sat up to look at his
host.

"What do you advise?" he asked. "I have a letter here which I wish
to deliver at Charlestown, and I should like to find out what has
happened to my father. After that I shall join some band of scouts,
and fight the French and their Indians. I suppose they mean to drive
us all out of the country, and take it for themselves?"

There was an emphatic nod in answer to his question, and then for a
while the two sat staring at the fire, each busy with his thoughts.

For who could doubt that the total extermination of the British
colonists was intended? The French were rapidly pushing south and
east, and in front of them ran a swarm of their Indians, massacring
and slaying, and steadily pushing back the British settlers. To
understand the position of affairs, and the facts which had led up to
the moment when Steve and his friends arrived at the camp where George
Washington and his small army had settled themselves on the Alleghany
Mountains, it would be well for the reader to study a map of North
America, and trace for himself the possessions held by the French and
the English. For it must be remembered that these two nations, each
jealous of the other, and often at war with each other, had sent their
settlers and pioneers to this huge continent of North America. To
describe how the first of those settlers landed, how they fought their
way from the coast and conquered the forests, would be to enter upon a
subject which would need abundant space and more attention than can be
given here. But the history of those days is filled to repletion with
tales of gallant deeds, of perseverance against great suffering and
difficulty, and of final and glorious success. It will be sufficient
perhaps if we say, when dealing with the British colonies, that
Quakers and Puritans, together with others from England and Wales,
also Scotchmen and Irishmen, found their way to the eastern shores
of North America, and having dealt with the Indians, finally founded
states, thirteen in number, stretching from New England in the north
to infant Georgia in the south.

Let the reader glance down the eastern coast of the map, and he will
trace these thirteen States without difficulty, and will notice that,
while each has easy access to the sea, where the coast naturally
limits further extension in that direction, to the west there is a
huge sweep of country running right across to the Pacific coast, but
broken here and there by mountain and river and vast inland lakes.
Then let him take those States in their order from the north, and
ascertain what reason there was why each one should not extend to the
west till her people flooded the whole continent.

It may be admitted at once that abundance of time was one of the
main requirements for bringing about such a state of affairs, for
colonies do not grow in a day, and putting aside all natural barriers,
and those erected by the hostility of the old inhabitants, whom the
colonists will in course of time drive from their own country, many,
many years must pass before the tide of immigrants flows across the
land. For those who come first naturally select suitable places
nearest the coast, while those who come later settle within reach of
their friends, exchanging commodities with them. Later arrivals are
forced farther and farther away, till in time the settlements are
found miles and miles from the coast. Look at North America to-day.
She has added many states to those thirteen which existed in the days
when Steve sat in the log hut with George Washington. Her people
have overflowed the country, they have pushed the Red Indian back
steadily, and to-day they swarm in almost every part. The virgin
forest of that day, the haunt of the buffalo and the hunting grounds
of the Indian, now resound to the clang of the hammer, to the crash
of the train, and to the hum and roar of a thriving population.
Thousands come to the land every year to swell the throng, and paucity
of population is no longer a source of anxious thought for the
governments of the various States.

But it was in the year 1756. All told, the colonists of those thirteen
States did not exceed a million and a half, while each one of the
States may be said to have been of the size of England. It will be
realised at once that it was all that such a population could do to
colonise the neighbourhood of the coast, and that if the western
border was to extend, thousands must come out to the country. As a
matter of fact, however, few though the colonists were, their farms
extended a considerable distance from the coast, and save in the
towns, where they lived close together, the settlers were separated
by wide intervals. They placed their huts for the most part in the
fertile valleys, clinging to the rivers, thus having at hand the means
of getting their corn and produce to the coast. And slowly, as the
land was taken up, settlers took their farms farther and farther away,
till some barrier arrested further progress. Such a barrier existed,
and a glance at the map will show the position of the Alleghany
Mountains, extending from Pennsylvania down to Georgia. It was not,
of course, an obstacle which could not be surmounted, but it was for
all that an obstacle which turned the would-be farmer back, for the
simple reason that, with such a range stretching between him and the
coast, there was no possibility of his getting his produce to market.
Moreover, on the far side of that range Indians inhabited the forests,
and they were an enemy to be reckoned with and feared.

[Illustration: CANADA and OUR AMERICAN COLONY in 1755.]

Thus it happened that from Pennsylvania south to Georgia there was
every inducement to the young colonies to be satisfied with what land
they already possessed, while to the north, where the natural barrier
of the Alleghany Mountains did not exist, there were other barriers,
none the less formidable, which held the State of New York and those
of New England in check. Stretching between them and the unknown west
lay the country inhabited by the Iroquois, consisting of six nations
of Indians who had banded themselves together for purposes of offence
and defence, and who were friendly to our colonists. To think of
snatching their hunting lands from them, was to think of a relentless
and fearful war, which might damage the prosperity of the colonies.
Farther north there ran the huge river St. Lawrence, with the French
and their so-called Christian Indians for ever ready to sweep over the
frontier.

It will be realized then, that there was reason why the young States
should not extend, but in dealing with them, one must not forget the
host of trappers and hunters belonging to each State, who, like the
Indians, steadily and surely pushed on away from the settlers. For
where there were villages there was little game, and it was upon
the latter that they depended for a livelihood. And so it happened
that, while the colonies proper came to an end at the slopes of the
Alleghany mountains, the trappers clambered over the range, and
descended into the country beyond. And in course of time, when their
numbers had increased and they had driven the Indians back after many
a battle, they too formed settlements, adventurous farmers joined
them, cleared the forest, and lived the dual life of farmer and
trapper. Then the restless spirit of the hunters took them on again,
till the forests west of the mountains harboured many and many a
gallant trapper, till their solitary log huts were seen in the valley
of the Ohio, on the banks of the Monongahela, the Alleghany, and the
Kenawha.

Those were the men who knew that Indians still existed, who hunted
the bison and the bear, and fought the bloodthirsty native of the
forests in his own manner and with bitter determination. It was
these hardy fellows, men of Tom Mainwaring's stamp, trappers such
as Jim and Mac and Pete, who carried old England's banner into new
lands, and who were the very first to come in contact with the French
and their Indians. Their occupation of this valley of the Ohio won
claims for England which France could not deny and which we could not
repudiate, and though up to this date the various States had for the
most part stood aside, apathetically watching while these honest and
brave pioneers were driven back, their huts fired and their people
massacred, yet the time was now come when they and the Government in
England were to recall the fact that this valley of the Ohio was ours
by right of conquest, that it had been won by the toil and blood of
the trappers.

There remains but one other point to explain with regard to the
colonies. It may be asked why these million and a half souls looked
on so calmly while the unfortunate pioneers and trappers were hunted
and massacred, why they sat at home while the Indians swarmed to the
western slopes of the Alleghanies and over the crest, slaughtering and
destroying the settlements? It must be a matter for marvel that they
remained for the most part inert and unshaken, even while the third
line of defences was ravaged, and the bloody war brought to their very
farms and mansions.

There were many reasons for this state of affairs, and it may be said
of the Southern States that it was so long now since their fathers
and their grandfathers had driven the redskins over the Alleghany
Mountains that they had forgotten that the Indians existed. There were
no longer raids in their direction, and no fear of massacre. Then
again, those who managed the affairs of the scattered population of
these various States were more than inclined to sink patriotism and
all thought of their fellow-States in acrimonious discussions amongst
themselves, in petty squabbles over some matter which was of the
smallest actual importance, and in for ever harassing their governor.
They fought amongst themselves, squabbled with their neighbours as
to boundary lines, and wrangled while their countrymen were being
massacred, and even their own security threatened.

In the north it was entirely different. The States of New York and
New England had French and French Indians on their borders, and
they had never forgotten the bitterness of former wars, nor did the
ever-present fear of an incursion help to dull their memories. We
shall see that it was to these Northern States in particular that we
are indebted for men and money, and for the initiative which first
roused the States to a sense of their duty, and the home Government to
the need for a leader and active opposition to the aims of France.

Having given some idea of the thirteen States and their condition in
and about the year 1756, let us turn to France and her possessions in
North America. And perhaps it will be of interest to go as fully into
this part as into that concerning our own colony. Let the reader run
his finger from the northernmost tip of the island of Newfoundland
along the northern shore of the St. Lawrence, and he will pass over
the route which the gallant Jacques Cartier, of St. Malo, followed
in the years 1535-36, when on a voyage commissioned by Francis I.
This bold sailor was the first known European to ascend the mighty
St. Lawrence river, a river which is of huge proportions, and which
is fed by the most gigantic reservoirs. Look at the five huge lakes,
Superior, Michigan, Huron, Erie, and Ontario, which cover a space
larger than that covered by the whole of Great Britain, and consider
that these five drain steadily into this St. Lawrence river, and you
will perhaps have some idea of the vastness of this gigantic waterway.

This Jacques Cartier cast anchor off the Isle of Orleans, which he
named the Isle of Bacchus, for it was well covered with vines, and
lay near the river St. Croix, within sight of the position where the
city of Quebec now stands. He met with a friendly reception from the
natives, and afterwards sailed up the river to Montreal, where an
Indian town was then situated. Having done more than any other white
man was known to have done, he erected a cross at St. Croix, claimed
the land for his master and for France, and duly returned home, having
completed his second voyage to these parts, a voyage commissioned,
as has been said, by Francis I., with the object of discovering a
short route to the Indies and new countries not yet discovered and
appropriated by the Spanish or the Portuguese.

Monsieur Roberval was the first lieutenant to take up his residence
in the newly-found country. It is quite unnecessary to follow his
unimportant doings there, or the fate of the immigrants who went to
join him. But it may be stated that progress was exceptionally slow,
that colonists were few and far between, and that for many years the
French population of New France was extremely small. Sometimes the new
possessions met with favour from the French court, and for a while a
new impetus was given to colonising. And gradually the interior of the
country was opened up, or rather, some superficial knowledge of it was
gained from the reports of discoverers and hunters. For here, as in
the Ohio valley, the chief inducement to the hardy pioneers to push
on was the desire to obtain furs, for which there was always a ready
sale.

But it must not be thought that their journeys took them so far that
nothing more was left to discover. Other men of the same venturesome
turn of mind were to appear upon the scene, Champlain amongst the
most noteworthy. Then, too, we must direct our attention to Nova
Scotia, the French Acadie, which attracted the eyes of the colonists
in 1604. We find that expeditions landed here and founded settlements,
and later we hear of gentlemen adventurers coming to this fertile
Acadie, there to seek their fortunes. In course of time, too, to be
precise, in the year 1625, Jesuit missionaries sailed for New France,
and we find them hereafter dominating the affairs of the colony,
ever pushing forward and boldly entering the country of the Indians.
Indeed, the history of Canada is filled with accounts of these
gallant missionaries, who struggled often alone into the forests, who
were murdered and tortured by the redskins, and who yet pressed on,
endeavouring always to bring the heathen Indian under the influence of
their religion.

Cardinal Richelieu also appears upon the scene, the great Richelieu
who dominated France, and we find him forming a trading company and
arranging to send out artisans.

It is interesting at this time to remember that England had colonists
at Massachusetts Bay, and that this country was ambitious of
obtaining more lands, and even of ousting the French. Indeed, in
the year 1628 Kirk appeared in the St. Lawrence off Quebec, and
though he did not take the place, Champlain, then the governor, had
the mortification of hearing that, in his descent of the river he
had captured four armed vessels and eighteen transports, which were
conveying those artisans whom the great Richelieu had selected. This
was a serious set back to the colonists, and was increased tenfold
in the following year, for Kirk again appeared upon the scene, and
summoned Champlain to surrender. That was the first occasion when the
broad banner of England floated over the fort of St. Louis, and the
site whereon the city of Quebec now stands. However, on returning
home, Kirk discovered that the war with France was at an end, and as
a result the treaty of St. Germain-en-Laye was signed, and Charles I.
handed back to France her possessions on the St. Lawrence, and Port
Royal, in Acadie.

During all these years the progress of New France had been slow, and
on the mighty St. Lawrence her colonists were lost in the immensity
of their new possessions. In Acadie they had fared little better, and
though Port Royal was handed back to them and they enjoyed peaceful
possession of the country, it was not for a great number of years, for
our fleets captured the province in 1654, and in our hands it remained
till 1667, when Charles II. gave it back to Louis XIV.

We pass over those years in Canada with the mention of few events,
amongst the most important of which was the danger which the colonists
now encountered from the Iroquois. They had a deadly feud with these
men from France, and we hear of their canoes ascending the Richelieu
and lying off Quebec itself, taunting the small garrison. These
uneventful times, however, produced scores of gallant men desirous of
pushing on into the mysterious west, and the names of Etienne Brulé
and of Nicolet loom large in the list. For a while the invasion of the
Iroquois kept these spirits close to the forts at Montreal and Quebec,
but when the Indian trouble had subsided, the Mohawks having been
dispersed, these gallant men pushed on again. They were found on the
great lakes, and to north and south of them. Hunters pushed into the
wilderness in search of skins, _coureurs de bois_, often the younger
sons of men of position in France, blazed their tracks through the
forests, intent upon discovery. And with one or other were to be found
the ubiquitous priest, bolder and more persevering than any perhaps.
The tales of these wanderers fill one with wonder and admiration,
and the history of these years of discovery teach us that the French
were wonderful hunters and explorers. They took to the forests as a
duck does to water. Often enough they associated with wandering bands
of Indians, learned their language and lived with them for months
and even years at a time, dressing in their hunting costumes. The
fascination of the wilderness cast such a spell over the colonists
that at this period, when men were sorely needed in the settlements,
when the hold which France had on her fine possessions was none of the
securest, scarcely a young colonist, be he habitant or the son of a
man of consequence, could be persuaded to remain. Threats of severe
punishment could not keep them. They broke from home ties, took their
ponderous muskets, their bullet and their powder pouches, and went off
into the forests, content to hunt and wander into a country which was
entirely strange, and to indulge in a life of freedom and adventure,
where hardship was the order of the day, and where only the strongest
and boldest survived.

But it must not be supposed that the governing powers at Quebec, in
their endeavours to retain these young men, entirely muzzled the
desire to make fresh discoveries. They fostered the idea, selected
suitable men, and equipped expeditions. Frontenac, whose name has
secured an honoured place in the history of Canada, sent Jolliet to
find that great water of which the French had heard, though it had
been but vaguely mentioned. This intrepid explorer finally launched
his canoe on the waters of the giant Missipi (as it was then spelled),
and with Marquette, a bold Jesuit, paddled down the stream. René
Robert Cavalier, Sieur de la Salle, completed this important work of
exploration, and with Tonty and Father Membré sailed down the long
stretches of the Mississippi till he reached the Gulf of Mexico. This
momentous voyage opened the eyes of the French very wide indeed, for
the travellers could tell of fertile lands stretching from the great
lakes to the gulf in the south, and of a huge expanse of country which
would give refuge one of these days to millions of wanderers pressed
out of their own native lands by the overcrowding there. However,
beyond building a few forts, nothing more of consequence was done
till we arrive at a period in which New France, now generally styled
Canada, made rapid strides under the able leadership of her governors
and the careful attention of Louis Quatorze.

There were perhaps three thousand souls in the colony prior to this
period, and it was obvious that many more were required if France was
to retain her rights there. The astute young king was the first to
recognise this, and we find him sending emigrants in large numbers,
emigrants who had been carefully selected. They consisted of young men
of the peasant class, called _habitants_, and of officers and younger
sons, for the most part unmarried. Then ship loads of peasant girls
and demoiselles were dispatched to the colony, and every inducement
offered to these men and women to marry and settle down. Indeed, young
men who failed to take notice of these inducements were harried and
taxed till they fell in with the wishes of their king. In addition
to these emigrants, men of some family were persuaded to go to the
colony, and from these smaller "gentilhommes" a Canadian noblesse was
formed, seigneurs were selected from amongst them, and a form of
feudal life commenced in the backwoods. The seigneur had a huge grant
of uncleared forest, he built his log hut or cabin, and a rough fort
to protect him against the Indians. And about this fort gathered his
_habitants_, tilling the land he allotted them, and paying their rent
in kind, a portion of corn, a few bear skins, fresh salmon from the
lake, or other commodities. Allegiance they gave to their seigneur for
the simple reason that these seigneuries were scattered and widely
separated, and self-support was their only policy, for otherwise they
would have fallen victims to the first redskin marauders.

And thus we find the possessions of France slowly being peopled, till
in the year when Steve and his friends reached the Alleghanies, the
colonists numbered some 60,000 souls, exclusive of some ten thousand
living in Acadie, once French but now English, though the _habitant_
who had filled that smiling land was French by birth and intensely
French in thought and sympathy. We find Cape Breton, an island just
north of Nova Scotia, a possession of France, with the formidable
fortress of Louisbourg situated upon it, and its ramparts bristling
with cannon. Hunters and _coureurs de bois_ had sailed across the
lakes, and knew every foot of their shores, while soldiers and agents
of France had built forts and trading posts in numerous places, had
erected stockades at certain points on the Mississippi, and were
slowly progressing in a scheme which promised soon to allow the men
descending this mighty Mississippi to join hands with men of their
blood at New Orleans, settled some time ago by the French.

Look again at the map for a moment, and see what such a line of forts
meant. It cut the northern continent into two unequal parts, leaving
France the major portion lying to the west, as well as that wide tract
between the Mississippi and the Alleghanies. It was this portion,
commencing with the valley of the Ohio, which they determined to
occupy, despite the fact that our hunters and pioneers had penetrated
its forests years before, and it was this same valley in which their
own Indians were now camping, having harried and massacred far and
wide, and set fire to all the settlements not only in the valley, but
as far as and beyond the Alleghany range.

History repeats itself, and it is strange to consider that the
constant forward movement of these persevering French was copied years
afterwards by those gallant men who opened up the great west of North
America to the thirteen colonies, that the work of exploration carried
on in Canada by hunters, by _coureurs de bois_, and by the restless
and bold spirits of the young noblesse was repeated on the far side
of the Alleghanies. Not that our trappers, even at this date, when
the French were doing their utmost to oust the British from the Ohio
valley, had been backward. They had done much, and a glance at the map
will show the reader that they had a station on Lake Ontario, Oswego
by name, which was well in advance of their own frontiers, and which,
in fact, was a bitter thorn in the side of the French. But adventurous
though our trappers were, they had not penetrated so far perhaps into
the wilderness as had the French, for the simple reason no doubt
that ways of communication were less frequent and difficult to come
across. A French trapper might enter his canoe at Quebec, and there
was water to take him hundreds of miles into the heart of the country,
to the farthest bays and creeks of the giant lakes. True, there were
mighty falls, as witness those of Niagara, but a canoe could be
carried. There were "portages" where canoes must be taken from the
water, the stores piled upon the backs of willing Indians, and the
whole outfit carried to some point above the falls. But these did not
altogether bar the great waterways, and on this account prospecting
and exploration was easier for the French. And thus we find them at
the period of this impending conflict masters of the St. Lawrence,
with strong places at Quebec, Montreal, Niagara, and Frontenac, not
to mention the huge and elaborately defended fortress at Louisbourg
on Cape Breton Island. We hear of their soldiers and trappers, with
thousands of Indians south of the great lakes, of their forts on the
Mississippi and on the river Richelieu and on Lake Champlain. In
fact, these energetic men, in spite of their paucity of numbers, were
swiftly surrounding the British, cutting off the thirteen States from
the smiling interior of America, and aiming no doubt at their final
extermination. We shall see, however, that even an apathetic people
may at last see their danger, and that England was not to be so easily
driven from a colony which had been founded by her hardy sons.

Chapter IX

George Washington speaks

George Washington, the young colonel of colonial troops, was one
of the few men who may truly be said to have taken an active and
patriotic interest in the thirteen States as a whole in those eventful
months when Steve and his friends fought Jules Lapon and his Indians
in the forest, or hunted and trapped along the river at the risk
of losing their lives. Young though he was, this courtly colonial
gentleman, whose name at this day is held in honoured memory by
Americans and Englishmen alike, had already taken an active part
in the events which had slowly and insensibly led up to a conflict
between the French and the English. Steve looked at him as he lolled
on the rough wooden form, and could scarce credit the fact that he was
speaking with George Washington, openly spoken of at that period as
the colony's chief champion, and well known to be one of the first to
have crossed swords with the enemy.

"What do you advise me to do, Colonel?" he asked, as he refilled his
wooden pipe. "I must work, of course, or else I shall starve, and
the work I want is something in connection with scouting. Then there
is my father. I do not fear that anything has happened to him, but
am naturally anxious that he should learn that I have crossed the
Alleghanies."

"You have a letter for Charlestown; is that not the case?" asked the
Colonel. "I can have that delivered for you, and I will make a point
of warning all the men stationed at the crossings over this range that
they are to stop your father and tell him what has happened. If you
consent to that, then I have work for you."

He pulled at his pipe and stared across at the young trapper between
half-closed lids.

"He is just the lad we want," he was saying to himself. "He is called
the Hawk, and I know that no Indian would give him such a title if he
were not worthy of it. He has friends, too, who will help him. Yes,
he has come in the nick of time. Well," he went on, speaking aloud,
"what do you say to this proposition? I will take care that your
father is warned, and I have work for you, work which is of the utmost
importance, and which every patriotic man would eagerly undertake."

"Then you may put my name down for it, Colonel," said Steve quickly.
"I have seen enough of these Frenchmen to make me sure that every
trapper will have to fight if he wishes to get back his possessions.
They have robbed us all in the most barefaced manner, and I for one
mean to get back what they have taken. Then, they say that these
enemies are determined to drive us altogether out of the country. That
means that England is in danger of losing her colony, and every man,
or lad for the matter of that, should take a hand in defending the
country."

"Would that all would think in the same way," sighed the Colonel. "I
am surrounded by apathetic people, by farmers who are still almost
ignorant of the turn affairs have taken, by planters and traders whose
relatives have been massacred by the Indians, and who yet are content
to continue planting and trading without a thought or care for the
unhappy people who have sought a home on the far side of this mountain
range. Excuses are everywhere. Men will not turn out to fight because
they have crops to look to, because they have wives and a home, or
with better reason, because they have lost all sense of patriotism,
and the national danger does not alarm them. It is maddening to think
that there are hundreds and thousands who could help us, whose fathers
were patriotic to the backbone, and who would have responded at the
first call. I can only think that prosperity has killed all thought
of the nation, and that they will not be roused till the French are
at their doors. There, Steve Mainwaring, you have my opinion of the
southern States. They are mostly apathetic, though the men could
fight, ay, and would fight if only they could be brought to the
point. Look at Pennsylvania, too. Her council will not move a step to
help the colony, simply for the reason that they are for the most part
Quakers, and hostile to even the thought of war. Would they fight, do
you think, if they heard the war whoop of the Indians?"

He looked across at Steve, and flushed red with indignation.

"If they did not they would have little chance afterwards," was our
hero's scathing answer. "They would be cowards if they did not do all
that was possible."

"And yet they are not that," said George Washington slowly. "It is
simply apathy which keeps them at home. They seem to have no interest
in the struggle. Now, look at the north. There are men, if you like!
They are Puritans for the most part, but they do not forget the
Indians, and they have already helped with men and money. There have
been stirring times, I tell you, Steve, and there is stern fighting
before us. I'll let you know how we stand at the present moment,
and what has happened in the past, for I expect that you are fairly
ignorant. News does not travel far or fast in the backwoods."

Steve and his friends had, in fact, only a superficial knowledge of
the events which had led up to the then position of affairs, and he
listened with interest as George Washington told of how the French had
commenced upon a course of intrigue and invasion which was destined to
despoil the thirteen States. It was De la Galissonière who had first
cast covetous eyes on that no-man's land in the valley of the Ohio,
and who in 1749 had sent an expedition to the valley with instructions
to nail up proclamations stamped in tin, claiming the land for France.
He argued that once this had been done he could pour settlers into
the country, who would quickly oust the British, for it must be
remembered that the latter were few in number, and for the most part
very scattered, preferring to pitch their farms alone, and not to
live, as did the French, always in communities. And while this process
of filling the debatable and coveted land was in course of completion,
agents were engaged with the _habitants_ in Acadia (Nova Scotia),
undermining their loyalty to King George of England, and preparing
them for revolution. This was perhaps one of the most disgraceful
events of this period, for these humble and hitherto contented people
were dominated by these agents, who gained an ascendency over them by
detestable means.

It was Shirley of Massachusetts and Dinwiddie of Virginia, both
far-seeing governors, who first bestirred themselves in the matter.
They realised the schemes of the French, and the patriotic and
energetic young colonel who sat opposite to Steve, the famous George
Washington, was sent on a mission to the commander of Fort Le Boeuf,
which the French had erected some twenty miles south of Lake Erie.
That was in the year 1753, and when George Washington, after a most
arduous journey, returned to Williamsburg, he brought no satisfactory
answer with him. He had met with politeness. That was all. The French
would not retire, and showed every disposition to remain in the
country south of Lake Erie. Dinwiddie, who was at this time the moving
spirit, had in the meanwhile obtained the sanction of the English
Government to oppose force by force, and to do his utmost to arrest
the invasion of the French.

It is interesting at this time to remember that France and England
were at peace in Europe, for after the war of the Austrian
succession, and the battles of Dettingen and Fontenoy, the peace of
Aix-la-Chapelle was solemnly signed. And yet we find our Government
giving its sanction to a movement in America destined to drive the
French out of the country, while we know that France, in spite of the
peace, was steadily, if not feverishly, pressing her colonists into
the valley of the Ohio, and flagrantly abusing the peace which existed
between the nations. However, such conduct on our part was certainly
to be commended, for we were not the invading party, and were merely
attempting to protect our own interests. We were not desirous of an
open rupture with France, our hereditary enemy, for the simple reason
that we were not ready. Our Government was weak, its colonial policy
vacillating, while its chief minister was altogether unsuited to
our needs. But, whatever the condition of those at home, there were
strenuous men in America, and we find Dinwiddie despatching a second
mission of forty backwoodsmen, under Ensign Ward, to erect a fort
at the junction of the Alleghany and the Monongahela rivers, in the
Ohio valley. They were driven back by French _voyageurs_ and soldiers,
who promptly erected a fort at this chosen spot, a fort well known in
following years as that of Duquesne.

And now we come to more stirring times, times in which George
Washington took an active part. As he sat opposite to Steve, he
modestly related how he had been sent with 150 men to destroy this
Fort Duquesne, how he had fallen in with a party of Frenchmen, and how
they had exchanged fire, with the result that the French leader and
some of his men were killed and wounded, while some twenty-two were
taken prisoners. This may be said to be the first occasion when blood
was shed in this historic conflict, and bearing in mind what has been
written with regard to the apathy of the various southern States, it
is only fair to mention that Washington commanded Virginians, and that
it was Dinwiddie, a Virginian governor, who persuaded his legislature
to vote £10,000 for the cause, and thereby enabled him to take active
steps to oppose the French.

But the men whom Washington now had under his command were hopelessly
few, though reinforcements had brought their strength to 350, for
the French had been preparing for the struggle for a long while,
and had more than a thousand men at Fort Duquesne. They advanced on
Washington, who retired to Great Meadows, and threw up entrenchments,
aptly named Fort Necessity. And there he was attacked in force, while
a deluge of rain descended on the two opposing forces. After nine
hours of gallant resistance, the French were still all round the
improvised defences, and being in almost as miserable a condition as
the colonials, they proposed a capitulation, which the young colonel
refused. Later, when his ammunition was exhausted and some hundred of
his men lay killed or wounded, he consented to discuss terms, which
were at length agreed upon, for they were sufficiently honourable and
lenient.

Such an open rupture, it may be easily assumed, caused unusual
excitement, and the presence of the French and their murdering Indians
in the backwoods of the Ohio valley practically drove our trappers and
pioneers back across the Alleghany range. A few hardy and courageous
men, however, still clung to their huts, and we have already made the
acquaintance of some of these. The excitement, and obvious intentions
of the French were not sufficient even yet to rouse the thirteen
States to concerted action, though Virginia, having quarrelled with
Dinwiddie till he was almost frantic, and having voted him twenty
thousand pounds for purposes of military defence, but saddled with
some impossible proviso, at length withdrew the proviso, and granted
the money free. There was little stir in the other States. Men from
New York State were under arms, and some from Carolina. Pennsylvania,
with a large German population, stirred not a finger. It is wonderful
and amazing indeed to remember that these people inhabiting the
various States and displaying such suicidal apathy, were the sons
of a race which had shown wonderful pluck and perseverance, and
themselves the originators of that following race of men who fought
and bled for their country so manfully, whose blood flows in the veins
of descendants who are justly proud of their forefathers, and who,
in place of apathy, show to a wondering world great patriotism and
activity, the power to fight and work with equal determination.

We leave the conflict at Great Meadows, and the year 1754 with
England and France still at peace in Europe, but preparing for an
inevitable war in the backwoods. Those following months saw a new
French expedition sent to Canada under a new governor, and feverish
preparations pushed on for the coming war. As to England, she at
length saw the necessity for sending help, and despatched troops to
America, while her fleets sailed, each captain having no doubt secret
instructions to attack and capture the French expedition. Indeed, in
the summer of 1755 two French vessels were captured off Nova Scotia.

Meanwhile Braddock, the chosen leader of our troops, had arrived at
Alexandria, opposite the site of the present city of Washington,
and plans for the coming campaign were discussed, while Johnson, a
young Irishman, who had lived much in the backwoods, and who knew
the Indians as well as did Steve, was given the task of travelling
amongst the six tribes who composed the Iroquois, and endeavouring
to counteract the subtle influence of the French. For these astute
enemies of ours were not content to have their own Indians following
them. They aimed at suborning the six tribes who had hitherto been
favourable to the English colony.

Now let the reader glance again at the map for an instant. He will see
that the river St. Lawrence forms one side of a triangle, of which the
Mohawk river, uniting with the Oswego, forms a second, the Hudson,
Lake George, and Lake Champlain, with the river Richelieu, completing
a line which makes the third. The latter two sides formed the readiest
means of attacking the French, for there was a waterway in either
case, while on every hand there was virgin forest, through which the
task of escorting an army was very great. The council which met at
Alexandria, and which consisted of British officers and governors of
the various States, decided that Fort Duquesne was the key of the
whole position, and should be attacked in force, while to divert the
attention of the French an expedition should make for the chain of
lakes running northward from the Hudson, and a second for Acadia,
where the _habitant_ subjects of King George were in practically open
rebellion.

It is not possible to give in detail the various incidents which
befell these three expeditions, but a few words will suffice to
describe what happened. Braddock's force, consisting of regulars from
England, and of a few rangers from New York, Virginia, Maryland,
and Carolina, marched for Fort Duquesne through the woods, and
after meeting with great difficulties and serious delays at length
came within a dozen miles of the fort. What followed will for ever
be an illustration of the futility of attacking a guerilla force
as if it were a European army encamped in the open, or drawn up in
serried ranks to oppose the coming of the enemy. Braddock's men were
met after they had crossed a river by a fierce and stinging fire
which belched from the thick forest and brush. Occasionally a blue
or white uniform was seen, or the feathered head of an Indian, and
at these our guns were discharged with some effect. Indeed, for a
while the French flinched, and but for the courage of their officer
might have fled. They rallied, took up their stations in the bush,
and kept up a constant musketry fire upon our columns drawn up in
close order in the open. Then the Indians crept through the forest
to either flank, and presently our hapless men were being raked by
a stinging hail of bullets. Pack animals dashed madly amongst them.
The war-whoop of the Indians deafened the combatants and increased
the disorder. At this moment, when the British were standing their
ground with magnificent courage, replying to a fire delivered by an
invisible foe with searching volleys, a little common-sense might
have gained the day for us and sent the Indians and the French in full
flight to their fort. But there was no one in authority possessed of
that common-sense. The Government of that day had done as those of
following Governments have done without fail. They had sent a British
officer to command, who knew nothing of the backwoods and the men who
inhabited them, who was ignorant of Indian warfare, despised cover,
and thought that there was no glory in a fight in which the combatants
did not stand shoulder to shoulder, in the full blast of the cannon.
An order to the men to break ranks and take cover might have altered
the sad event entirely. But our soldiers were kept in the open, and
at length, after facing a terrible fire for two hours, they fled on
seeing Braddock mortally wounded.

"It was the most terrible experience of my life," said George
Washington as he sat in front of Steve. "Those gallant but ill-led
men stood as firm as rocks, and were slaughtered like sheep. The few
Virginian backwoodsmen we had with us took cover and did their best
to hold the enemy, but were too few to make any effect upon them.
We fled, and our flight became a rout. A panic seized the men, and
nothing could hold them. Let us pass on from that battle, for it is
not pleasant to have to reflect upon it, while I can assure you that
the effect of such a disastrous defeat was felt throughout America,
and even in Europe. As to its effect in the valley of the Ohio, you
should know that very well. No doubt you saw something of the Indians
and of the French."

"We were attacked by one band, under a rascal named Jules Lapon,"
answered Steve. "But we beat them off handsomely, and won our way
through from Albany in safety. I believe that we owe our security from
interference at our settlement to that same Jules Lapon, for he had
land next to ours."

"And carefully kept others from stealing it, even his majesty Louis
XV. of France. But I will proceed. As I have said, I was one of those
unfortunate ones who took part in the Braddock expedition, and I was
saying that the effect was disastrous in the valley of the Ohio. The
Indians swept on, and though I was left to protect the frontier, how
much use was I when I had some four hundred miles to watch and a
bare thousand men to help me? No wonder the Indians pushed on, and
thousands of our settlers were massacred. But to proceed. The French
captured papers with the baggage of Braddock which told them plainly
what other movements were taking place, and they at once made ready to
oppose these attempts on their frontier. Shirley started from Albany
with some 1500 men, and made his way by the Mohawk river to Oswego,
where he prepared to march on Fort Niagara. But the French put all
thought of such an attempt out of his mind by throwing reinforcements
into Fort Frontenac, which, as you know, is on the opposite side of
Lake Erie, only some fifty miles away. Shirley had nothing left
but to increase the defences of Oswego, and returned, having left a
garrison of 700 men.

"The third expedition was under Johnson, a man who knows the Indian
better perhaps than any other white man. He also set out from Albany,
with 6000 provincial soldiers, 4500 of whom came from Massachusetts.
All were amateurs in the art of war. A few were backwoodsmen, but
the majority were farmers, mechanics, or fishermen. As for Johnson
himself, he was wholly unused to the command of men, and innocent of
that organising ability without which a force cannot be victualled
satisfactorily. In addition, I must tell you that the men he had were
unused to discipline, and very apt to act and think for themselves.
But I will not give you all the details. Johnson reached the bend of
the Hudson, _en route_ for Crown Point, the French station at the foot
of Lake Champlain, and left 500 men there to build a fort known now
as Fort Edward. Then he pressed on across the twelve miles of virgin
forest which stretched between him and Lake George. Arrived there he
commenced to build Fort William Henry.

"Meanwhile the French had poured reinforcements into Crown Point, for
it must be remembered that they had captured Braddock's papers, and
knew that this movement of Johnson's was afoot. Their scouts told them
of the arrival of the British, and they at once made arrangements to
attack. Stealing down the long strip of water which runs parallel
with Lake George, known as Wood Creek, they landed from their canoes
at a point which struck the road between Fort Edward and Fort William
Henry in the centre, and, believing that there were no cannon at
the latter fort, they prepared to attack it. Meanwhile Johnson had
heard of their coming, and sent out a force to find the French and
drive them back. This force fell into an ambush, and very nearly met
the fate which had befallen poor Braddock. However, they extricated
themselves and retired on the fort, where the contest was continued.
And here the New England farmer and backwoodsman showed his mettle. He
took cover cleverly, for the fort as yet existed only in name, and was
a mere barricade. He searched the woods with his bullets, and, aided
by our guns, caused considerable loss to the enemy. Then, gathering
heart, the sturdy provincials leaped over the barricades and charged
down upon the French with clubbed musket and tomahawk. That gallant
charge drove the enemy from the field, and resulted in the capture
of their leader. It was followed by another success, for part of the
French force, consisting of Canadians and Indians, had retired from
Fort William Henry into the woods to the place where their ambush had
been laid, their intention being to loot and gather scalps. Here they
were pounced upon by a small force sent from Fort Edward and utterly
routed. Thus, you will observe, what had very nearly been a disaster
ended in a fine victory for our arms, and in a measure helped to
lighten the depression caused by Braddock's defeat."

Colonel George Washington sat up to look at Steve, and remained for
some minutes lost in thought. No doubt he was passing in review those
eventful days during which he had marched with Braddock. He had given
Steve some idea of what had occurred, though he had not completed the
tale. For a fourth expedition was attempted that year. Two thousand
staunch rustics, enlisted from Massachusetts, sailed from Boston
harbour for Nova Scotia, their object being to capture Fort Beauséjour
which the French had built on debatable land on the isthmus connecting
Canada and Nova Scotia. It was from this post, the headquarters of the
intriguers, that agents and soldiers worked to undermine the loyalty
of the _habitants_ of Acadia, for France was determined to recover
this lost province. However, the gallant peasants from Massachusetts
brought their designs to an end, for they sat down outside the fort,
and despite attacks from Indians and Acadians outside, they pressed
the siege so strenuously that the place was surrendered. Then the
troops marched across to the north shore of the isthmus and took Fort
Gaspereu without meeting with opposition.

The end of this momentous year of 1755 found France and England still
ostensibly at peace, for there had been no declaration of war as yet.
The winter brought some abatement to Indian ravages on the British
frontiers, but the French had the best of the position. The valley of
the Ohio was theirs, right up to and over the Alleghany range. They
had a formidable force at Fort Duquesne, at Frontenac, and at Niagara.
Their defences at Crown Point were improved, and now they were hard
at work erecting Fort Ticonderoga at the very foot of Lake Champlain,
not more than forty miles from Fort William Henry. As to Nova Scotia,
it was in our possession now, but the very formidable fortress of
Louisbourg on Cape Breton Isle dominated the position, and offered a
haven to French ships, and a base from which the strongest expeditions
could set out.

"There is little else to tell you, Steve," said George Washington,
sitting up suddenly to shake the ash out of his pipe and refill the
bowl with best Virginian. "Still, as I think over all the events
which have happened, I see one or two other points which may help to
enlighten you. Nova Scotia, for instance, that old French Acadie, you
might well consider to be still a thorn in the flesh, in spite of the
reduction of Fort Beauséjour; for Louisbourg lies very close to it,
and there were thousands of disaffected _habitants_ to be dealt with.
But they are no longer in need of consideration, for they have been
deported. Yes, cruel though the act seems, it was necessary, in my
opinion, for they were a menace to our safety, and were so obviously
French in interest and sympathy that it was necessary to remove them.
And now to complete my tale. Oswego has fallen, and the French have
wiped the station out of existence. Then France has made a descent
on Minorca, and that taken in conjunction with her attitude here has
caused our government to declare war, and to show that it will support
us, it has voted £115,000 with which to carry on this conflict.
General Abercromby and Colonel Webb have taken up commands, and I
hear now that the Earl of Loudon has arrived in the colony. Meanwhile
colonial troops have been enlisted for the coming campaign, and after
gathering at Albany report says that they are now reinforcing Forts
William Henry and Edward, where they will strengthen the defences and
make ready for an advance by road or lake upon Fort Ticonderoga. But
it is already late in the season, and I doubt that anything will be
done before the advent of 1757. We want more men and money, and very
much stronger support from home, and I hear that there is a prospect
of receiving it; for rumour says that a new ministry will be formed,
and Pitt will come into power. Then this campaign will be pressed on,
and we may hope to beat the French. For here again I have a little
information.

"Knowing how relatively few their men are, you would expect France to
pour troops into Canada," said the young colonial leader, as he looked
across at Steve. "Well, she has done so up till recently, and has sent
a fine commander in the person of Montcalm. But European conquest has
distracted her attention, and it is a fact that she has joined a
coalition with the object of attacking Frederick of Prussia. She has
dropped her active colonial policy for the shadow of European glory,
and, mark my words, she will bitterly rue her determination. She has
progressed rapidly in this campaign, her woodsmen and Indians press
at our doors, and our middle and southern States still sit apathetic,
playing into the hands of our enemies. There will never come such
another opportunity. The task before these Frenchmen is easier at this
moment than ever before, and never again can she expect such good
fortune. And yet she has suddenly changed her policy. She has banished
all thought of these vast stretches of unclaimed land, and would
rather humble the power of Frederick of Prussia than become a power in
North America. I tell you she will repent the action. It is England's
turn to profit now, for we have suffered bitterly.

"But I have told you all the facts now, and will again return to
my proposition. Steve Mainwaring, report tells me that you are a
practised scout and backwoodsman, and, moreover, I can tell that
you have had a good education. A man of your class is wanted in the
neighbourhood of Fort William Henry, a leader of scouts who can keep
our generals informed of the movements of the French. The winter is
almost upon us, and the next few months will see little movement in
other parts. But on Lake George a serious attack from the French
is possible, for they can come over the ice. Will you take service
with the colonials and enlist a band of scouts to act in that
neighbourhood?"

There was silence for a few minutes, while Steve looked back at the
Colonel, a man after his own heart, tall and active, with fearless
kind eyes which looked straight into his. Then he sat up suddenly,
sprang to his feet, and gripped the hand held out to him.

"I will go gladly, sir," he said. "I will take service till such time
as this contest is ended."

"Good! That is excellent. Then we can go further. You will be gazetted
as captain," said George Washington, "and I may say that I have
been authorized to act in this manner, for our leaders are eager to
discover the right man. You will receive a bounty on being gazetted,
and will draw sufficient in pay and allowances to keep you. To your
men you can offer a bounty of six dollars, and twenty-six shillings a
month pay, besides rations and clothing."

"I accept the terms willingly, Colonel," answered Steve promptly. "I
think I can guarantee that I shall be able to enlist ten men at least.
The money will be little inducement to them, for they have a good deal
more to fight for. As to the clothing, they will prefer to keep to
their hunting costumes. All will be trappers born and bred."

"Then you can enlist them up to forty in number. And now, Steve, for
your orders. When can you be ready?"

"In a week, I think," was our hero's answer. "That will give the men
time to settle their families."

"And when can you march?"

"When you order, sir."

"Then you will set out in ten days' time, and meanwhile I will send on
a letter to Fort William Henry, intimating what I have done. Now join
me at my evening meal."

Ten days later Steve set out from the mountains, seventeen of the
trappers who had fled from the settlement accompanying him. Jim and
Mac and Pete were there, while Silver Fox, wrapped in his blanket,
taciturn and silent, strode on in advance, his keen eyes noting
everything, his nostrils agape as if he already scented the smoke from
the camp fires of the Shawnee Indians, hereditary foes of his race,
with whom he hoped to meet before the conflict was ended.

And so with the encouraging cheers of George Washington's ragged
soldiers ringing in their ears, the party set out, Steve their
acknowledged leader, and turned their faces for Albany. They plunged
into the forest within a few minutes, and stole along, a silent band,
clad in moccasins and trapper's leather. Icy blasts occasionally
reached them, while leaves of every tinge and shade slid from the
trees and pattered in their faces. The winter was at hand, and before
Steve and his band had reached their destination the frosts had
commenced and some snow had fallen. Little did they care for the cold.
These hardy huntsmen entered Fort William Henry ruddy and browned
by exposure, their honest faces displaying their enthusiasm and the
eagerness which all felt to commence the contest. Nor were they kept
long impatient. For the French were close at hand, and, indeed, had
come within sight of the fort that very morning.

"I am glad to see you," said the commander, as he shook Steve's hand.
"You will find your own quarters, and draw your rations as do the
others. To-morrow you will see what the French are doing. A dozen of
our poor fellows were ambushed and slaughtered yesterday."

Steve saluted and returned to his men. That evening their arrangements
were completed, and as the first streak of dawn lit up the gloomy
forest surroundings of Fort William Henry, he and his men stole from
the fort in single file, and, passing the sentries and outposts,
disappeared one by one amongst the trees and brambles. They were alone
again, dependent on their own courage and exertions, and conscious
of the fact that a remorseless enemy might pounce upon them at any
moment.

Chapter X

Steve and his Band of Scouts

"The first thing that we have to do is to muster our forces and divide
up the work," said Steve, when his party of trappers and hunters who
were to act as scouts had left Fort William Henry a mile or more
behind them. "Without organisation we shall be nowhere. We cannot live
out here and do good work unless we rest, and if we wish to live we
must not dream of resting all together. There would be a very sad tale
to tell if we were so careless."

He called gently to Jim and Mac, who happened to be in rear of him,
and at a signal from the latter the band of scouts gathered about
their young leader, flitting noiselessly amongst the trees. As for
Steve, looking tanned and weather-beaten, and as fine and independent
a young leader as could well be found, he leaned against the
lichen-covered trunk of a small oak, from which the leaves had long
been shed, and kicked his snow-shoes from his feet.

"Make yourselves easy, boys," he said. "We'll discuss matters."

"One minute, Cap'n," answered Jim, shouldering his musket and facing
round. "Now, boys, you ain't forgot what we've been talkin' about. Get
into yer places, jest to let the Cap'n see as you know what's wanted.
Hem! Form line! Pete, you're a foot or two out in yer calculations.
Jest hop back a piece; and Mac, didn't I tell yer back there in the
fort that an old soljer such as you air should know better how to
range up with the company?"

Steve was amazed, and watched with a twinkle of amusement in his
steady eyes as the band of backwoodsmen shambled into line, a line
remarkable rather for its broken appearance and for its irregular gaps
than for regularity. For the lusty and courageous backwoodsmen who
till that day knew no master, who had fought and hunted in their own
manner, without direction from any one, and more often than not with
themselves alone to look to for leadership and advice, had little or
no notion of discipline. They scoffed at leaders as a general rule,
and at formation of any description. And in consequence the argument
which had induced them at length to conform to Jim's wishes had waxed
hot and furious.

"We've been settin' our heads together, Cap'n," said Jim, as he ran
his eye down the ragged line of staunch backwoodsmen and scowled
at Mac and a few others who did not show that amount of interest
in the movement which pleased him. "We've seen what them chaps air
like way back at the fort, and we reckoned that after all a bit of
discipline air wanted. Yer see, supposin' we was called together all
of a sudden, and them skunks of redskins war close handy, waal, if
we hadn't any idea of order, where should we all be? Reckon the most
of us would be jawin' and tellin' the others what to do. Waal, that
ain't the thing to keep scalps on our heads. We want to collect quick
as a flash and wait for a command. Ef you don't happen to be handy,
then me or Mac or Pete, jest in that order, ef it's agreeable to you,
'll take over the post of leader for the time, and there won't be
no--no--what's the word boys?"

"Confusion," suggested Steve quietly, suppressing the smile of
amusement which was on his lips and stepping into his snow-shoes
again. For all of a sudden he realized that these men who had
so willingly placed themselves under his command were serious,
desperately serious, and meant to do their utmost to get even with the
enemy and wrest back from him the possessions which they had lost.
The fine fellows were ready to sacrifice some of their much-cherished
independence with the one object of making success more assured. He
ran his eye down the rank of stalwart trappers, and noted Jim's slim
proportions, his tall, wiry figure. Then Mac's flaming red beard
caught his attention, and he looked with open approval at the sturdy,
short figure of the Irishman, who stood at attention, his musket to
the shoulder, his eye fixed on his leader. A glance, in fact, was
sufficient to show that he alone of the whole company present had had
some experience of drill and discipline. There, too, was Pete, his
bulky figure bursting almost from his hunting shirt, his head and ears
swathed in a huge coon-skin cap. Of the others, tall and short, slim
or more sturdily built, there was not one who had not the appearance
of a hardy backwoodsman. There was a keen look in every face, and if
he had not known it before, the manner in which this band had slipped
from the fort that morning and made their way into the forest told him
that all were skilled in such work, that every man had had experience
and could be counted on to act with the stealth and cunning of the
oldest Indians. Though all with the exception of Mac lounged on their
muskets in the most unmilitary style, Steve felt gratified at this
the first sign of some attention to discipline. He swept his eye
along the line again and let it rest on Silver Fox for the space of a
second. The Mohawk warrior stood behind the line of men, resting upon
his firearm, the fringes of his moccasins trailing into the snow at
his feet. There was a look almost of scorn on his sharply-chiselled
features, a look which seemed to say that he of all the party thought
such a movement unnecessary.

"With men of my race such a thing is unnecessary, Hawk," he said in
his slow, gutteral tones. "With us there is a leader, and when danger
comes on the sudden the chirrup of a bird, the call of a wild cat, or
the screech of an owl brings all together. Then he who speaks is the
chief. If others dare to open their lips they die. With these comrades
other methods are wanted perhaps. If so they are good. These are
all brave men, and are here to fight and not to play. Silver Fox is
satisfied."

"And I too," cried Steve, as he strode down the ranks and passed a
word with every man. "Boys, you have done me the honour of accepting
me as your leader, and I will do my best for you. I think that we all
have the same cause for coming here. We have something to win back
from the French and their Indians, and we have a king who asks for
our help. I am glad to see that you are prepared to obey some sort of
discipline, for it will certainly help us in case we should ever get
into a tight place. It will be of service too when we are in action,
and I for one have come here to fight, to do my best to drive back the
French and their Indians."

There was a general shuffling of snow-shoes at his words, a restless
movement along the ragged line which told that the men approved. Had
regular soldiers been there they would have tossed their caps on to
their bayonets and cheered. But these backwoodsmen knew well that a
shout might bring a hornet's nest about their ears, and more than
that, custom had taught them to be taciturn as a rule, to be silent
and thoughtful, given to deeds and not to words.

"And we're all here to do the same," burst in Jim. "Reckon me and you,
Cap'n, and every boy here, has a bone to clean with them 'ere French,
and ef we hadn't er guessed as you would most likely show us some
fightin', why----"

"Sure ye know we'd not have been here," sang out Mac, his long
friendship with Steve and Jim overcoming all discipline. "But Hawk'll
show us the way, bhoys, and remimber, ivery one of ye, that till
we can drive these men back to their own counthry there'll be no
peace for us, their murtherin' Indians will be rhunnin' over our
sittlemints, and our wives and childer, God kape the darlints! will be
back there where we've lift 'em, waitin' and longin' for their homes."

There was a low growl from the ragged rank at that, and the
backwoodsmen instinctively gripped the barrels of their ponderous
muskets. There was now a stern look in their eyes, a look which boded
ill for the enemy.

"Then we are all agreed," sang out Steve. "Now for ways and means. I
propose that we live out of the fort. Men there are dying daily from
infectious disease, while those who form the garrison have little to
do but grumble. Let us take up our quarters out here in the forest. We
are used to roughing it, and know well how to provide against severe
weather."

"Seth Shorter! Where air yer, Seth? Ah, then step forward and speak
up," sang out Jim at this moment. "Now, Cap'n, Seth here has been born
and brought up close to these lakes, and I reckon he'll know every
inch of the ground. Ef we're to live out in the forest, he's the boy
to say where. As for livin' out, why we're all for that, for who'd
want to stay in there at the fort?"

He pointed a contemptuous finger in the direction of Fort William
Henry where they had spent the previous night, and where even that
short experience had taught them that life in the British stronghold
was not one altogether to be desired. For, as Steve had said, men died
fast from disease, while the hours hung terribly heavy for all who
formed the garrison.

"Now, Seth, where air this camp of ours to be?" demanded Jim,
slouching up to the sturdy backwoodsman who had been called upon, and
slapping him upon the shoulder with his gloved hand. "Where air the
place, lad?"

"Thar ain't a doubt where we should camp," came the ready answer.
"It's like this, Cap'n and mates. Here's Wood Creek running down
from the foot of Lake Champlain, and alongside of it thar's Lake St.
George, which is a good deal bigger. Waal, up thar, at the foot of
Champlain, there's Crown Point, one of them Frenchie's forts, and
below that they've Ticonderoga building. Between Lake St. George and
Wood Creek thar's a tidy strip of land and wood, and ef thar's a place
as I know, why---"

"You are acquainted with that," interrupted Steve, eagerly. "Well?"

"Waal, thar's a bit of a stretch o' rocky ground at the foot of that
strip o' land, and thar ain't a tree on it for quite a bit. All
round's forest, same as this, and then thar's the frozen lakes. Now,
Cap'n, I've shot and trapped over that 'ere place scores o' times, and
me and a mate once did a winter's outin' thar, trappin' and collectin'
pelts. We was, as you might say, jest as this 'ere party air. We was
lookin' for a campin' ground whar we could live in spite of weather,
and whar we could have a show ef them red-skinned varmint comed along."

"And yer found it?" asked Jim eagerly.

"You bet. That thar rocky ground has got a kind of nose on it. It
kicks up into the air all of a sudden, jest a hundred feet perhaps,
and right at the top it dips jest as sudden. That dip air about the
size to take this party, and with a few trees across the top and
a lacing of reeds the snow'll lie and form a roof which looks as
natural--waal----"

"As possible," suggested Steve.

"Right, Cap'n. As natural as possible I reckon. From that ere place a
few of us chaps could hold up a hundred and more of the varmint ef we
had a supply of victuals."

"Then we'll make for it and inspect," said Steve promptly. "How far is
it from the fort?"

"A matter of five mile perhaps, mate, I mean Cap'n."

"The same, my lad," laughed Steve. "We are all mates on this trail.
But one word before we move. You are all more experienced than I am,
and since you have decided to follow some sort of discipline, I will
say nothing more about it, but leave the matter to you alone. But once
we have our quarters we will divide into watches, and select hunters
and scouts. Now, Seth, just give us a lead."

The trapper shuffled over the snow at once, his musket flung over his
shoulder, and without seeming to take note of his position strode
off at right angles to the course which they had been following. As
promptly his comrades divided into parties, which had been arranged by
Jim and Mac, and while some trailed off after Seth and Steve, others
moved away like ghosts into the forests to act as flanking guards.
And as Steve cast his eye to right and left he caught sight of their
figures every now and again, silently flitting between the trees, each
man listening intently, noting every little sign, and still keeping
in touch with the main party. Ten minutes later the hoot of an owl
brought the trappers together.

"Thar's been redskins and Frenchies here," said one of the band, as
he pointed to a narrow track in the snow. "They passed last night, I
should reckon."

"And blazed a fresh trail," added Steve swiftly. "Look over there."

His sharp eye had seen a white clip in the side of a tree some
distance away, and closer inspection and a little search showed that
he was not in error.

"The Hawk has an eye of which the finest chief might be proud," said
Silver Fox. "These men passed in the afternoon of yesterday. There
were ten of them."

"And one was less accustomed to shoes than the others," said Steve
swiftly. "He was a pale face."

"He was. The Hawk can read the signs as I have already learned. One
was a pale face, and he led. They went towards the fort, blazing a new
track. They returned across the ice."

There was an exclamation at that from some of the trappers who up till
lately had been unacquainted with Silver Fox. But Jim silenced the
doubts of his comrades promptly.

"How's that, chief?" he asked in the Mohawk, which all the party
understood. "How did you get that reckonin'?"

"Ask the Hawk," was the curt answer. "He read these signs, and he knew
how they returned."

"It is easy to guess at their track back, but one cannot say
absolutely for sure," smiled Steve. "Look at the tracks of their shoes
here, boys. Well, there are no return traces. Yesterday they made in
the direction of Fort William, and I guess that they were back at
their own quarters before night fell. Remember how cold it was and how
it began to blow in the early afternoon."

"It did that," exclaimed one of the men. "The snow was sweeping over
the ice on the lakes."

"Just so, and the clouds of snow hid them well. They slipped from the
forest on to the ice, and with the wind behind them were almost blown
back home, while their traces were covered. Here, in the forest, where
the full force of the wind was not so much felt, their tracks are
pretty clear. They are home again, boys, and we can do nothing with
them to-day. But another time----"

"We'll remember that they've blazed a path," said Jim curtly. "We'll
set a watch on this place."

Once more the band separated and plunged on through the silent forest,
and within a little while they found themselves on rising ground which
finally led up to a hollow, some fifty feet long, by twenty broad, and
some fifteen deep. Its opening faced directly north, in the direction
of the French position, while its back was walled in by a mass of
rock and frozen earth. For roof it had the sky, now overcast and
treacherous-looking, save at the extreme rear, where a mass of snow
was supported by the branches of a fallen tree.

"The only one as grew up thar," explained Seth, pointing to it. "Me
and my mate felled it and dropped it inter position, whar it formed
a roof over our heads. Now ef we was to do the same right along, and
place a wall in front, there'd be a fort ter be proud of, and room in
plenty for every man."

For some few minutes the members of the band closely inspected the
hollow and its surroundings, Steve noting with much satisfaction that
the slightly elevated position of the mound gave those who occupied
it a perfect watch-tower from which they could in clear weather see
the frozen surfaces of Lake St. George and Wood Creek, while the trees
stood back so far that there was little or no cover for an attacking
enemy. It was just the place for an armed camp, for it was within
reach of their friends, occupied an advanced position, and, owing
to its nearness to Fort William Henry, could easily be victualled.
For a little while he stood on the edge of the hollow staring out at
the wind-swept and dark frozen surface of the long lake to the left,
known as St. George, and then at the still more slender strip to the
right, Wood Creek, on the banks of which many a little skirmish had
taken place between colonials and French Indians. _La petite guerre_,
as the French named these conflicts, had been the order for many a
month past, for the enemy were bold, and too often their Indians and
_coureurs de bois_ had pounced upon the colonials as they gathered
firewood, or looked for food in the forests. Steve and his party, with
such a commanding position, might well hope to put a stop to many of
these unexpected attacks.

"We have found the very place, Cap'n," exclaimed Jim, with some
emphasis, as he stared around. "On a quiet night I reckon we could
easily hear folks on the ice, and ef we was held up badly, why a
charge of powder buried under the rocks and fired with a train would
make a boom as would come to the ears of those in the fort."

"We'll occupy it and take possession at once," answered Steve readily.
"Call the men round."

An hour later fourteen figures could be seen slouching away from the
mound across the snow in the direction of Fort William Henry, while
their comrades, with Steve, slipped their gloves from their fingers,
and, slinging their muskets, made for the forest. A few words, in
fact, to these intensely practical men had set them in motion. While
three stood on the mound keeping a sharp look out, the others went to
drag the longest boughs they could find in the forest, where hundreds
lay on the ground. Then the fourteen who had made back for the fort
carried a note from Steve asking for stores of every description.
Indeed, as the night began to fall this portion of Steve's following
came trailing back, dragging an improvised sledge, on which they had
loaded cases of salted meat, dried bear's flesh, bacon, and beans,
besides rum, lead, and an ample supply of powder.

Meanwhile those who had remained had gathered a huge stock of boughs,
and had easily contrived to place the longest across the top of the
hollow. Others had been laid crosswise on these, and on the top of all
a thick covering of brambles, reeds, and pine branches had been strewn.

One of the backwoodsmen had detached himself from his fellows, and
while they laboured at the roofing of their fort he had set to work
with knife and tomahawk. He was an expert, it seemed, for in a little
while he had a number of blocks of frozen snow collected at the very
mouth of the hollow. And with these and a number of loose rocks
he soon contrived to erect a rough fireplace, with a wide chimney
overhanging it, which ran up the sloping back of the hollow, and
finally pushed its white top through the rough roof above. It was a
neat job, and one to be proud of, and this trapper longed to see the
chips which he had set in the grate below fired, and send long tongues
of flame up the chimney.

"You'd have the hul howling lot of varmint round us in a jiffy,"
growled Jim, as he watched the man lay the wood in the grate. "Reckon
thet fire'll have to get started when it snows hard, and after that,
when it's light, nothing but chips as dry as a bone'll have to get
throwed on it. Even then, thar ain't any sayin' as a redskin wouldn't
spot the smoke."

"With care, it will be well," said Silver Fox, as Jim turned to him as
if to ask for his decision. "See, my brother, behind the smoke there
will be the sky, and it is clear and white. If dry chips are used
there will be a little white smoke perhaps, but none that is dark. We
can keep fire within the fort once it has been set alight. Truly, you
pale faces think of strange things. Where my brothers and I would have
set our wigwams in the thickest forest, there seeking protection from
the snow and keen winter winds, you come hither and burrow like foxes.
You make one big wigwam where we should have seen no opportunity of
doing so, and as I look on and smoke you erect a fort which is strong
against attack, which is a watch-tower from which you can see every
foot of the lakes, and which also is a comfortable lair in which the
firelight can be seen, and where we may huddle about the warmth, and
smoke and think. Truly there is no understanding you men who have come
so strangely from over the water."

The tall Indian brave wrapped his blanket still closer about his
figure, and gazed out at the huge panorama stretched before him.
There lay the glistening surface of the two lakes, now clad with ice
from end to end, and fringed all about by continuous forest, which
grew up to the banks and cast there a deep shadow, which looked
black against the white of the ice. And away in the distance the
faint reflection from another long expanse of frozen water, Lake
Champlain, called after that famous Frenchman who had done so much
for New France, and who had founded Quebec. It, too, was clad in a
garment of white, snow hanging to the trees, and in the dull wintry
green of the pines, which grew thickly there. For background there
was the blue haze of the Adirondacks and the Green Mountains, now
the favourite haunt of thousands of holiday-seeking Americans. And
still farther to the north, buried in the dull horizon and behind it,
lay the Richelieu river, with its few forts, and its _seigneuries_,
where the _gentilhommes_ of this new colony, the lately-constructed
noblesse, sat in their palisaded houses watching as their _habitants_
cooked their food or went a-hunting. Then it was that these noblesse
might don doe-skin leggings, shirt, and moccasins, and clad in the
thick fur coats, with hoods, worn by the Indians of Canada, and with
thick mittens slung about their necks, might venture into the forest
with the _habitants_ and enjoy all the excitement of the chase. Yes,
they could hunt and fight, but work, never! Each one was the seigneur,
and the lords of Old and New France never blistered their palms nor
dirtied their fingers.

"We're almost ready," said Steve, as he stood beside the tall Silver
Fox, staring out at the scene below. "What we want now is a wall of
snow here in front. How are we to set about building it?"

"It's as easy as fallin'," answered Jim at once. "Look up there,
Cap'n."

He pointed to the leaden sky above, and held his hand up for a minute.

"Wind's from the north, Cap'n," he said, "and it's goin' to snow.
To-morrow things'll be properly covered, and ef we jest build a wall
of branches at the face of this nest, waal, it'll be covered afore the
mornin'. Reckon this place'll be lookin' jest natural when the light
comes again."

"Then set the men to work," cried Steve, hurrying off to where a pile
of branches and small tree trunks had been dragged. "It will be dark
in an hour, and if it is going to snow, as I can well believe, why, we
may just as well make all snug beforehand."

Less than an hour later there was an erection of boughs and branches
against the face of the hollow, to which the finishing touches were
given as the darkness fell. By then snowflakes were silently flitting
to the ground, powdering the rough roof above the hollow, and resting
upon the caps and shoulders of the trappers. A little later it was
dark, and through the flakes the distant twinkle of a dozen or more
lights could be seen.

"Ticonderoga," said Steve, as he sheltered his face from the snow.
"To-morrow we shall hope to know more about its position and about the
movements of its garrison. Now, what about sentries?"

"Reckon we can all turn in and be comfortable, Cap'n," answered Jim
promptly. "There ain't no need for look-outs to-night. The snow'll
keep every livin' soul under cover. It's coming thicker. See for
yerself. The lights have gone, and the darkness is deeper."