CHAPTER XXV

A BIRCH-BARK MESSAGE

EVEN while Sandy was shouting these thrilling words, a figure flitted past Bob and Simon Kenton. It was the agile Frenchman, and he was making at full speed for the shelf where the exit of the strange cavern lay.

Abijah Cook, aroused by the cries, scrambled to his feet, being doubtless under the impression that they had been attacked by a large force of the dusky enemy, against whom his hand had been pitted in continual warfare.

There was a collision, and the borderer measured his length again on the stone floor of the cavern. The fleeing form of Armand Lacroix was just glimpsed as he shot around the corner of rock that lay between the rear part of the cave and the waterfall.

For once Kenton did not happen to have his rifle with him, since he had no reason to dream that he would need it. His first act had been to leap wildly forward in the hope that he might yet snatch the weapon up before the Frenchman could vanish beyond the outcropping of rocks.

Bob had seen that, when Lacroix regained his feet after his collision with Abijah, he held something in his grasp that had not been there before. It was the weapon of the big borderer, which doubtless the cunning French trapper had made up his mind to snatch up even before he started to escape.

Kenton knew just where his own rifle was leaning against the wall, and, as he reached the spot, he snatched it up with a single movement. Then he went flying after the figure of the Frenchman, leaving the two boys dumb with fear lest their plans were now doomed to utter defeat.

Larue and his two companions had witnessed with mingled feelings this dash for liberty on the part of Lacroix. They exchanged many low mutterings among themselves, and, while neither of the boys could understand much French, they felt sure that Larue was furious because the other had not waited to cut their bonds before dashing off, and thus giving them a chance to escape also.

"Oh! what if he gets clear away?" said Sandy, when several minutes had passed, and Kenton did not return.

"I hope that may not be," Bob remarked between his set teeth. "For his first act will be to bring the Senecas against us, and, even if we managed to escape, think of what Kate's fate would be."

"Hark!" cried Sandy, gripping his brother's arm convulsively; "did you hear that, Bob?"

"Surely," replied the other, endeavoring to control his anxiety as best he was able. "It was the report of a gun without a doubt; though, under here, sounds come but faintly."

"Yes, but mark that there was only one shot!" continued Sandy. "Whoever fired that did not miss. If it was Kenton, then we have no longer any need of fear lest we be betrayed; but, should it have been Armand Lacroix, perhaps we have lost our best friend, and the whole frontier will mourn the death of brave Simon Kenton."

They sat there waiting. The roar of the waterfall was the only sound that came to their ears. Both of them gripped their guns in nervous hands, and had no heart to exchange further words.

"Some one is coming," whispered Sandy, suddenly.

"Yes," his brother added, as he raised his musket so as to be ready for any emergency; "I, too, saw a shadow flit past that bright spot on the wall. Oh!"

Kenton suddenly stood before them. The first thing Bob and Sandy noticed was that the young borderer carried _two_ guns! They could easily guess the meaning of such a thing.

"Here is your rifle, Abijah!" said the returned frontiersman, as he handed the weapon over to his big companion; then he coolly started to reload his own gun.

"But--Armand Lacroix, what of him?" asked Sandy, appalled at the consciousness that one of those dark tragedies, so common on the border, must have just taken place.

"Fear no ill," said Simon Kenton, calmly. "He will not betray us. We are safe yet a while, my brave boys."

Nor would he utter another word at the time to satisfy the terrible curiosity of the lads. They could, however, easily picture what had happened--how swiftly the athletic young borderer had pursued the fleeing Frenchman, and, coming in sight of him, perhaps just as Armand, Lacroix was about to use his gun, had taken a shot himself. His well-known skill with firearms had stood Kenton in good stead once more.

Later on, Abijah told them how Kenton had spent a few minutes in concealing all signs of the tragedy, so that, in case any prowling Indians, attracted by the rifle shot, came around to ascertain what it meant, they would fail to learn anything. Even the trail of himself and the Frenchman from the waterfall to the scene of the final meeting was utterly hidden as Kenton backed once more in the direction of the hidden cavern.

Sandy went on with his preparations for the meal; but his hand was not quite so steady as usual when he contemplated the tremendous consequences that must have followed, had the French trapper escaped.

It was difficult to realize that Armand Lacroix would give them no more trouble; that as he had lived, so had he finally died--by violence.

They were yet eating, when silently Blue Jacket entered the cavern, grave as was his custom. Sandy was immediately wringing his brown hand, and plying him with a multitude of questions. So excited did the boy seem that finally Kenton spoke to him rather sternly.

"Let me find out what has been done, Sandy," he said. "Chief, did you discover where the wigwam of Black Beaver is situated in the village?"

"It lies at further edge, close to region of rising sun," replied Blue Jacket, readily enough; for, while he did not entertain the same feeling toward Kenton that he had in his breast for the Armstrong family, at the same time he recognized, in this friend of the great Colonel Boone, one who held the respect of all hostile Indians on account of his dash and valor.

"Good. That will be of value to us when we start the blaze going," declared the borderer; "because the chances are ten to one that the wind will be out of the west, and hence we can begin work far away from that single lodge. As the Indians rush toward the fire, to put it out, they will leave the eastern side of the village unguarded; then we can do what we have planned, and disappear."

"Did you meet Pontiac?" asked Bob, who could not forget his fears for Blue Jacket, should such an encounter take place.

"Blue Jacket ask see um," replied the Shawanee; "when he exchange greetings with chief, Silver Heels, whom he knows. Some time, perhaps, Blue Jacket may yet follow in footsteps of great Pontiac. If any one man bind the tribes in big league to drive paleface back beyond the hills, Pontiac do it. And the heart of Blue Jacket beats true to his people."

"Did you take note of the village, so as to know where to start the fire in case we are compelled to adopt that method of confusion, under cover of which Kate may be rescued?" Kenton continued.

He purposely brought the name of the girl into what he said, for he saw that the young Shawanee winced at mention of firing the village. Only his devotion to the Armstrong family would induce him to thus play a double part, and turn upon his own people.

"Blue Jacket did all that," came the answer slowly, as though it were only with a great effort that the Indian brought himself to confess how he had spied on the Senecas, who were allies of his own tribe.

"You do not think Pontiac suspected you, I hope?" asked Kenton.

"Not so. Blue Jacket hide feelings. No can tell what um think. Great sachem much pleased meet Blue Jacket. Say hear good report same. Bob, Sandy, get chance see sister. Nobody look, talk, Kate grind maize in stone. Come 'long again, find this on ground. Bring Bob, him read trail of crazy fly on bark!" (Note 7.)

To the astonishment and delight of the boys he suddenly produced a small strip of birch bark from his little ornamented bag where he carried his flints, together with the paints which were used to decorate his face when on the warpath, and various other things dear to the heart of a brave.

Upon the smooth inner surface of the tiny roll of bark Kate had managed to write just a few words, using the juice of the poke berry, and perhaps a splinter of wood in place of a quill.

"Bob--Sandy, come and take me home to mother. Kate."

Tears came unbidden into the eyes of both boys as they saw these expressive words which had been inscribed on the bark by their dear little sister. They could read between the lines the dumb pain of a heart nearly broken by the extent of the terrible disaster that had befallen the child.

Sandy, less able to contain his feelings than his brother, did actually press the rude letter to his boyish lips; nor was Kenton apt to think any the less of the lad for this open exhibition of grief. He knew the tender love that bound together the three children of David Armstrong.

"Then you found a chance to talk with the maiden, did you, Blue Jacket?" asked the borderer, turning again to the Shawanee messenger.

"Blue Jacket stand by watching her grind in mill. When no one look and none hear Blue Jacket tell how Bob, Sandy come all way from Ohio to save little papoose. Then drop piece of bark, so can make marks for Bob. After some time come again that way. Kate in wigwam, bark lie on ground with trail of wounded fly on back. It is well. She know we come soon. She wait and be ready. Ugh!"

If they asked a score more questions they would hardly have received further information. In his own crude but effective way Blue Jacket had told his story. It needed no embellishment. The boys were able to mentally picture just what had occurred, and it pleased them to think that at least Kate knew of their coming.

She would be able to dry her tears now, perhaps, with her heart thrilled with this new hope and expectation of a speedy rescue.

"I am glad to have a chance to help in saving so brave a girl," remarked Kenton, as he fingered the little roll of bark on which Kate had sent her message. "What would the pioneers be able to accomplish if it were not for such valiant mothers, wives and daughters! If this beautiful country is ever given over to the whites, more than half of the credit will belong to those who loaded the guns, while their men fired them."

In turn Blue Jacket was told about the fate of Armand Lacroix, for, of course, he quickly counted one less among the bound figures lying on the rocky floor. Not by the movement of a facial muscle did he betray what he may have thought; but Bob noticed that, when Kenton was not looking, the young Shawanee cast several glances of admiration in his direction. Such a bold man as Simon Kenton could not but excite the envy and admiration of every adventurous spirit, be he white or red.

So it was that Colonel Boone made many friends among the Indians, and, on one occasion, when he fell into their power, instead of putting him to death, they adopted him into the tribe. He even lived among them for months. Hearing that a heavy force was setting out to destroy Boonesborough, and rendered desperate by the fear that his friends and relatives might thus be murdered, Boone had escaped, and managed to rejoin his kindred in time to assist in the defence of the settlement he had himself started.

The afternoon dragged along. Pat O'Mara came back from his hunt but brought no news. Poor Sandy did nothing, Bob thought, but growl, get up to walk around the confined space of the cavern, lie down again in a vain attempt to coax sleep to his eyes, and in all sorts of ways proclaim his impatience.

But, by degrees, the time passed. They had no means of telling the hour save as the shadows lengthened; the sun-dial they depended on was the dropping of the glowing day god behind the western horizon. And, when it became apparent that the twilight had actually changed into darkness, Sandy breathed a sigh of satisfaction in his brother's ear.

"Now it cannot be long!" he declared. "Once darkness settles over the land, and surely Kenton will bid us depart from this place, which I never want to see again; for I have lived and grown old here. But, oh! I only; hope there will be plenty of wind! There, he has gone out to see how things look. Let us pray he returns to tell us the wind has risen."