CHAPTER XXII

THE TABLES TURNED

FORTUNATELY Bob understood what part he ought to take in the turning of the tables on the quartette of Frenchmen. If he could only hold their attention for a brief time, Pat O'Mara might creep up close enough to spring his surprise.

That one glimpse which Bob had taken had shown him another thing; the Irish frontiersman was not alone! In several other places the bushes were waving slightly, proclaiming that others must also be advancing cautiously toward the council oak.

He knew not whom they might be, and, beyond the possibility of Blue Jacket constituting one of the number, could not even guess who were Pat's comrades. But it was positive that they must be friends, else they would not be up here along the border of the Great Lakes, spying upon the grand council of the tribes in league with that trouble-maker, Pontiac.

And so wise Bob immediately set to work to hold the attention of Larue and his three companions. Seconds would count just then, since their friends were crawling closer and closer all the time.

"Wait for a minute, please, gentlemen all!" he cried, holding up a hand, as he saw Armand take a step forward, doubtless eager to bind with deerskin thongs the lads he hated so bitterly.

There was something about Bob's manner to arouse their curiosity. Besides, they knew no reason why they should wish to hurry. The Indians dared not return again to the vicinity of the sacred council oak, after the medicine men had conducted their closing exercises under its wide spreading branches; time must elapse before the spell which had been placed on the tree would have exhausted its charm. Hence there seemed to be no danger of interruption.

Besides, they fancied playing with their prisoners, somewhat as a cat does with a mouse, enjoying, in anticipation, the feast to come.

"What is eet ze young monsieur would say to us?" asked Larue, making a mock bow, as though he could not forget the manners of a polite Frenchman even in the midst of war's alarms.

"Perhaps we might be able to give you much valuable information in return for a favor!" said Bob, trying to fill his manner with mystery, so as to further excite the curiosity of the border adventurers, always eager for gain.

He saw that they began to show some interest; for Jacques and Armand exchanged glances, with raised eyebrows. It was as if one said to his comrade: "Shall we listen to what he has to say?" and the other by a nod announced that it would be as well, since they had nothing to lose.

"Bob, what would you do?" gasped the horrified Sandy, actually believing that, in his despair, his brother meant to reveal some weakness in the defences of the white settlers, or betray the secret code by which they expected to summon assistance in time of need.

"Be still!" hissed Bob, between his teeth, for he saw figures creeping closer, making no more noise than so many snakes might have done; and Sandy, utterly confounded by this strange attitude of the other, shrank back appalled, fearing lest Bob had indeed lost his mind.

"Listen for a minute to me, Lacroix," the young pioneer went on, as he held the attention of the four men. "Perhaps I could tell you where much of this same precious ore might be found. Look well at it, and say whether or not it is true gold!"

He had taken something from his pocket, and now tossed it across to the nearest man, who chanced to be Armand. The latter dextrously caught the object, which he immediately began to examine with the eyes of greed.

"Throw some small wood on ze fire, so that I may haf more light!" he exclaimed; "and ze rest of you keep an eye on ze young cubs zat zey do not run away. Sacre! can I belief my eyes? What is zis I see?"

Sandy caught his breath. For the first time there flashed through his mind something of the truth with regard to Bob's sudden inspiration. He realized that his shrewd brother must be fighting for time.

That little piece of ore containing the sparkling gold grains had often lain in his own palm, for Bob had carried it many years. Originally it had come from the mountains of North Carolina, where some of the settlers were engaged in a crude method of mining in the streams and rocky gullies. A returned Virginian, who had gone there to nurse his sick brother, brought some of these specimens with him, and one had been given to Bob.

And now it was playing the great part for which perhaps it had so long been reposing in the pocket of the young pioneer.

Meantime Larue, having caught up a handful of fine wood, and cast the same upon the smouldering council fire, so that it flamed again briefly, hastened to lean over the shoulder of his shorter comrade. His hungry eyes feasted upon the glittering object which Armand held in the hollow of his hand.

"Can it be posseeble zat it ees real gold?" he asked, with a quiver of greed in his harsh voice.

"Take eet and see, Jacques," replied the other, thrusting the object upon his companion, as though eager to have his own opinion verified.

Immediately the other, having examined the bit of ore, about which there could be no possible doubt, raised his bloodshot eyes, and surveyed Bob almost fiercely. And the boy knew then and there that his trap had worked; for he had chained the attention of the four Frenchmen, while closer and closer crept those who were coming through the bushes toward the opening.

"Haf you more of ze same stuff?" demanded Jules.

"Not here," replied Bob, coolly. "I would not be apt to carry it along with me when starting out on such an expedition as this. But I give you my word I can tell you where it comes from, and where much more of it lies, waiting to be picked up."

The covetous eyes of the crafty pair sought each other; and then the two exchanged nods. They had swallowed the bait, gorged it in fact; but Bob knew that he must try to prevent their feeling the hook until he was ready to strike.

"What is zis you tell us, hey?" Larue continued craftily. "Zat if we let you go free, you take us to ze place where we can peek up much of zis same yellow sand in ze rock? But how we know you keep your word? S'pose we hold one like hostage till time come zat you carry out promise?"

Bob turned to his brother, at the same time giving him a sly wink.

"What say you to that, Sandy?" he asked. "Would you agree to stay with Larue and his friends while I carry out our little plan; and then, later on, they would set you free, after I had led them to where they might find more of this?"

And Sandy, beginning to realize the value of passing seconds, pretended to carefully weigh the importance of the proposition before replying. Finally, after the Frenchmen had begun to move restlessly, as they kept their eager eyes fastened on him, Sandy nodded his head.

"Whatever you think best, that will I do, Bob?" he said, slowly.

"Zat is well, young monsieur," chuckled Jacques, rubbing his hands together, as if greatly pleased. "Parbleu! it may be zat we shall yet be able to make arrangements satisfactory to both. If you rescue ze young ma'mselle, we are to be told ze secret; if, on ze uzzer hand, you fail, still ze one who is wiz us shall lead us to ze fine mine. It ees a bargain!"

So delighted were the four men over the prospect, that those who were supposed to be watching the boys allowed their rifles to sag a bit. Bob was running a hand through the pockets of his clothes, as though eagerly searching for something else, and of course every eye was riveted on his movements; which was the very object he had in mind.

Suddenly, and without the slightest warning, there was a rush of feet. The four French trappers whirled about with the intention of putting up a stout resistance, but it was too late. They had been caught napping!

The guns were torn from their grasp, and hurled to the ground. Instantly they found themselves staring into dark muzzles of guns held in steady hands, while back of these weapons appeared the faces of Simon Kenton, Pat O'Mara and one other woodranger. Nor was Blue Jacket missing, for he stood in plain sight, with an arrow fitted to his bowstring, and drawn nearly to the flint barb, as he aimed straight at the heart of Larue.

"Make the slightest noise, and you shall surely die!" exclaimed Kenton, in a stern voice, that had its effect upon all the Frenchmen.

Meanwhile Bob and Sandy had taken advantage of the opening to leap forward and recover their own weapons, which were instantly levelled at their enemies. Thus encompassed on all sides it was little wonder that the French trappers were ready to throw up their hands, and admit defeat.

"History has a way of repeating itself, Lacroix," said Kenton, with a laugh, as he started to bind the hands of the borderman with tested thongs made from the toughest of elk hide. "Once before I had the pleasure of stopping your little game when you would oppress these two boys. Mark well what I say, for the next time you raise a hand against them, the crack of a rifle will seal your doom! Two warnings spell the end."

"But what would you do wiz us?" demanded Larue, as he saw that each of his companions was being triced up in the same fashion as himself; since Pat and the remaining scout were experts in the art of applying bonds.

"That we do not know just yet," returned the borderer. "But, if you accept your capture as the fortunes of war, and do not try to escape, there will be no harm befall you."

Bob and Sandy were no longer filled with despair. Like magic their condition had changed. Instead of being prisoners in the hands of these cruel French trappers, and threatened with the fate that so often came upon those falling into the hands of the warring Indians, they were once more free.

Better still, they had found good friends in Kenton, Pat O'Mara and the third scout, so that the chances of their daring mission being carried out were more favorable than ever.

"Pat has told us about the trouble that has come upon you, Bob," Kenton said, as he shook hands with each of the boys in turn. "And we all feel for you. Our object in coming here has now been accomplished, since we have listened at a distance to what Pontiac said to the chiefs at the grand powwow here. If we can help you rescue little Kate, we stand ready to lend a hand."

Sandy's face fairly beamed with joy. As we know, he entertained a feeling bordering on worship for the gallant young woodsman, Simon Kenton, who in his opinion was a greater hero than Colonel Boone himself. What Kenton said, therefore, counted heavily with Sandy; and, when the reckless borderer thus gave his promise to assist them in their work, the boy believed success was assured.

Not so Bob, who was accustomed to weighing things more seriously before making up his mind. He knew of the countless difficulties they would have to meet, both before they effected the rescue of Kate, and afterward, when the whole country near the Great Lakes would be overrun with savage hordes, searching for the palefaces who had dared invade their territory, and even enter the great village of that most noted of Seneca chiefs, Kiashuta, the war leader, who had just made a new blood compact with Pontiac.

Still, it was good to look on the faces of these three valiant hunters, and realize that no longer were two weak boys pitting their strength and knowledge of Indian tactics against the cunning of the Iroquois.

Bob did not fail to shake the hand of his friend, Blue Jacket, who must have run across the three borderers soon after he slipped away at the coming of the hostile Frenchmen.

Thus they now counted six stout souls, united in the determination to accomplish the object of the long journey, and bring little Kate back to the arms of the fond mother, mourning on the bank of the far-distant Ohio.

To the hands of Simon Kenton willingly did Bob resign his cause, firm in the belief that, if any mortal could carry it to success, the bold borderer would.