CHAPTER XXVII

PONTIAC'S PERIL

CLOSER came the footfalls.

Bob almost held his breath, as he began to fear that the approaching Indians must actually step upon them, when discovery would of necessity follow. It was a terrible moment of suspense.

But Kenton had anticipated something of this sort, it would seem, when he led his little expedition into that patch of brush. The leading figure turned abruptly aside when just about to jump into the thicket, and those following at his heels did likewise.

Bob, out of the tail of his eye, for he dared not even move his head, counted seven warriors go leaping past. They gave vent to tremendous whoops as they thus burst into the village, and, from the answering cries, it was plain to be seen that they were envoys, sent from some distant Indian settlement to Pontiac.

Again there was more or less noise and confusion, with dogs harking, and many voices raised, asking what it all meant. The Indian messengers were taken into the heart of the village, where doubtless they secured an immediate interview with Pontiac and the head chiefs, after which they would be served a feast of baked dog, provided for the occasion.

Once again Bob and his brother breathed easy. It had, however, been a narrow escape, and they felt that they had reason to feel thankful because discovery was thus averted.

How Sandy would have liked to be able to whisper what was passing through his mind; but he had been warned against this by Kenton, and realized that silence would add to their chance of success.

They no longer lay flat on the earth, for, with the change in conditions, Kenton led the way, once more crouching on his knees, so as to look through the little openings in the bushes.

The hour was growing late, and by degrees they noted that the crowds had begun to disappear from the open spaces between the numerous lodges that went to make up the great village of Kiashuta and his branch of the Seneca tribe. Already had all the squaws vanished from sight, as well as the numerous papooses and the half-grown boys who had been allowed to witness this wild dance in the hope that it might inspire them with a desire to emulate the fighting warriors as they grew older.

"Listen--the wind!"

Sandy could not help saying this into the ear of his brother, taking advantage of some noise close by, which he believed would muffle the sound of his voice.

Bob had not been unmindful of the fact that the pine tops were now swaying before the breeze. They no longer sighed and moaned, but there was a decided "swish" as they strove to hold their heads up before the rising gusts.

Kenton, too, had taken note of this fact. He knew that it was time he and Abijah and Blue Jacket were going. They must make a detour, and yet arrive on the scene of their contemplated labors before the storm broke.

Bob and Sandy did not attempt to follow. Their duty was to lie still where they were until the alarm was given, and, with the flashing up of numerous fires, to retreat to a certain spot where five chestnuts grew in a clump. Here they would be joined, not only by the two scouts, but by Blue Jacket as well, and the latter was expected to bring with him the little captive girl, their sister Kate.

Kenton and his companion would have a dangerous mission. They intended to apply the blazing torch to as many of the lodges on the windward side of the village as they possibly could, so that the fire would get such a start that it could not possibly be put out before much damage had been done.

Of course, while they were thus running hither and thither, thrusting their firebrands this way and that, they took chances of being impaled on the spear of some furious brave, or feeling a tomahawk come crashing down upon their heads; but so often had they dared such risks that they gave it slight heed now.

Left alone, the young pioneers began to feel the responsibility of their position. There, just before them, lay the great Indian village, with its hundreds of people, and its scores upon scores of lodges, in each of which rested those who were now declared enemies to the whites.

True, there might be found a few whose skins were not red; but their hearts were even blacker than that of any Indian, for such renegades as Simon Girty hated their own kind as venomously as so many snakes would have done. Driven out of the settlements along the border for various crimes, they had joined their fortunes with the savages, and at all times distanced the most cruel and crafty Indian in their treacherous conduct toward the pioneers.

There was no one close enough now to catch a low whisper, so that Sandy, who felt that he must express his feelings or burst, took occasion to say in the ear of the other:

"Can you give a guess where Black Beaver's lodge lies, Bob?"

Now, that was a matter to which the other had himself given more or less attention. When he surveyed the numerous skin shelters, with their three poles sticking up out of the hole at the top, where the smoke of the fire came forth, he had kept in mind what Blue Jacket told him about the symbolic and crude paintings with which Black Beaver had decorated his tepee.

"When the fires burned their brightest I thought I saw it away off yonder to the right," he answered, in the same cautious tone that would be utterly unheard five feet away, especially while that breeze rustled the waving branches of the overhanging trees.

"Yes, that is to the east, and he said it lay there," continued Sandy. "But try to tell me which it was. Can you make it out still, Bob?"

"I think so," replied the other, who knew that Sandy simply wished to feast his hungry eyes on the wigwam thus picked out, and try to imagine that he could see the loved form of little Kate beyond its painted walls.

"Look closely," he went on, softly, "and notice that large lodge with the buffalo and the hunter. There, a fire just blazed up, and you can see it plainly. Now, the third one beyond has a double border of pictures on the skin. When the light was good I could see them plainly, and I am sure they are just what Blue Jacket told me Black Beaver had decorated his lodge with."

"I see which one you mean, Bob, thank you." And again Sandy sighed as he glued his eyes on that particular wigwam, which he believed contained the lode-star that had guided him through all the perils hovering in the woods between the Ohio and the Great Lakes.

Then Sandy fell silent again. Several times he gave a quick gasp, as he fancied he caught some movement in the vicinity of that very lodge. Could it be their faithful friend, Blue Jacket, hovering about, and making ready to strike when the wild alarm called the young Seneca chief hurrying from his lodge to assist in fighting the devouring flames?

Bob believed that enough time had now elapsed to allow the others to reach the stations assigned to them. That the blazing torch of the incendiary was not already in evidence he believed due to one or two causes.

First, Kenton may have concluded that there were still too many warriors moving about in the village. They would be in a position to attack the holders of the firebrands, and, worse luck still, to put out the fire before it had gained sufficient headway.

Then again, the storm, while growling in the distance, did not show signs of bursting upon the lake shore immediately, and its presence was very essential, in order to make the havoc so tremendous that the terrified Indians could think of nothing save the wild fight to prevent the whole village from going up in flames and smoke.

"Hist! yonder come two Indians this way! Be silent!"

Bob gave this warning because he did not know what moment his brother might attempt to communicate with him again, for Sandy always found it hard work to keep a still tongue in his head.

Just as he had said, a couple of Indians were walking slowly in their direction, seemingly in deep conversation.

Sandy nudged his brother in the side, and managed to whisper, despite the warning he had received:

"One is Pontiac himself!"

But Bob had before now discovered this fact for himself; also that the companion of the great sachem was no other than the warlike Seneca chief, Kiashuta. Perhaps Pontiac intended leaving the village at daybreak, in order to proceed on his travels, stirring up hatred in the breasts of every tribe he visited. And there were many things he wished to communicate to his red brother ere he went away.

They came to a stand not more than forty feet away from the bushes behind which the two Armstrong boys crouched. Sandy had even feared lest they meant to enter the forest at that particular point, and in so doing might stumble on the pair of young spies hiding there.

But Bob had seen that they were really heading for a log that happened to be lying in the open. Upon this they sat down, and for some little time Pontiac continued to speak in low but earnest tones. It might be he was finding out just how many armed warriors Kiashuta could throw into the field at short notice, when the signal belt reached him that the confederated tribes had risen in their might.

Bob wished they would finish their palaver, and depart. He feared that, should Kenton take a notion to start operations, the presence of these two chiefs so near the hiding-place of himself and Sandy might interfere with their withdrawal, according to the plans laid out.

Again Sandy nudged him to indicate something; but it was only that Kiashuta had arisen and hurried away, going direct to the large lodge in the centre of the village that marked the wigwam of the head chief.

Pontiac remained seated, with his back almost directly toward the spies. His air was thoughtful, as though the weight of many problems rested heavily upon his mind.

By this time the boys had grown accustomed to the sight of the most famous of all Indian chiefs. His presence no longer inspired them with that sensation of awe such as had marked their first glimpse of the magic leader, as he addressed the council under the sacred oak.

"I hope he goes away soon!" whispered Sandy, unable to keep utterly still.

"Perhaps we can back out slowly, an inch at a time," answered his brother; for the storm was muttering louder now, and seemed on the point of developing without much waste of time. He began to follow his words with action, wriggling backward, and being careful not to stir the bushes in the least.

Sandy, realizing that his brother was actually moving, also began to work his way back. An inch at a time, if continued for a certain distance, would allow of their making better progress, until they could finally rise to their feet, and glide off to the rendezvous of the five chestnuts.

He was alongside Bob, and still wriggling along, keeping his eyes in the direction where that kingly figure sat upon the log, when the older boy felt his fingers gripping his arm.

Sandy did not utter a single word; perhaps he could not find his voice to do so, he was so shocked by what he had suddenly discovered. Bob, catching some of the same spirit, simply shut his hands tight together, and held his breath, while a low whispered "Oh!" fell from his parted lips.

Just behind the sitting form of Pontiac a bending figure was creeping, and an uplifted hand clutched a terrible club, which the would-be assassin undoubtedly meant to bring down with cruel force on the unprotected head of the war sachem. And to his intense astonishment Bob recognized in this creeping figure Jacques Larue, whom they had left tied hand and foot in the cascade cavern!