CHAPTER XXVI

BY WAY OF THE TUNNEL

“There is one consolation: if we cannot get into the post they cannot very well get out. If the worst comes to the worst maybe we can starve them into submission,”

Henry uttered the words after a long council of war between his father and the other men of the expedition. All had withdrawn to the shelter of the forest, and were keeping a close watch on the trading post.

Dave took but little interest in what was said. He was thinking of the loss of his father. It was a terrible blow, and he did not see how he would ever get over it.

“Your plan is all right, Henry, but it would take too long,” said Sam Barringford. “More’n likely Bevoir an’ his crowd have a good stock o’ rations on hand an’ kin hold out all winter. They have shelter while we have none. I’ve got another plan, although it’s mighty risky. Don’t ye remember thet tunnel from the yard out into this forest? If the rascals ain’t discovered thet we might use it in the dark an’ git into the post thet way.”

“Yes! yes!” cried Henry, brightening. “The tunnel Tony Jadwin and I used. It came out in a hollow tree only a short distance from here. I am sure I can find the tree easily enough.”

“It is more than likely they have found the tunnel,” answered Joseph Morris. “And if so, they will watch it, or block it up.”

“I’m a-goin’ to take a look,” said the old frontiersman.

While the majority of the men continued to watch the trading post, to guard against a possible attack by those inside, the planter, Barringford, Henry, and Dave walked to the hollow tree. How this was used before has already been told in another volume of this series.

It was an easy matter for Sam Barringford to let himself down into the hollow tree. He had to clear away a little snow, but found the tunnel practically empty. It was only a small affair, dug for bitter emergency, and ran directly from the hollow tree under the palisade, and came out near a corner of the storehouse. It had several turns, around rocks and roots of trees long since cut down, and it took some time for the old frontiersman to worm his way along until he reached the vicinity of its termination.

To light his way, Barringford had brought along a small torch, and now he stuck this behind him, in the wall of the tunnel. In front of him was a large flat stone, covering the end of the passageway.

He placed his ear to the stone and listened. Not a sound broke the stillness beyond, and gently but firmly he pushed on one end of the stone. It was frozen fast, but at last came away, letting down a small shower of snow.

“Covered with snow, eh?” he murmured to himself. “So much the better. They ain’t found it, an’ more’n likely they don’t know a thing about it.”

With extreme caution he continued to push upon the stone, until he had raised up one end a foot or more. Beyond, he now discovered a drift of snow, covered with an icy crust. All he had to do was to clear away the snow, break the crust, and step out into the open, less than ten feet away from the door to the storehouse and stable.

Not deeming it wise to go further in the daylight, Barringford allowed the stone to drop into place once more, and wormed his way back to the hollow tree. The others were anxiously awaiting his return.

“What did you find?” asked Henry.

“We can git in that way, if we want to,” answered the old frontiersman, and related the particulars.

Dave was for entering the post at once, but Joseph Morris shook his head, and Barringford did the same.

“We had better wait until nightfall,” said the planter, “and in the meantime perhaps we can throw Jean Bevoir off his guard.”

“Let us pretend to go away,” said Henry. “Have a talk with him, and say you will come back with a company of regulars from Fort Pitt.”

This was considered a good suggestion, and a little later Joseph Morris walked again into the open, waving his white handkerchief. At first nobody paid attention to him. Then Bevoir showed himself once more.

“Jean Bevoir, we have talked matters over,” began the planter. “We want you to consider well before you decide. Will you give up the post, or do you want us to return to Fort Pitt and bring a company of soldiers here to fight you?”

“I vill not give up ze post, no!” shouted the French trader.

“Then you want us to bring the soldiers from Fort Pitt?”

“You cannot do zat,” was the reply, but a look of anxiety crossed the bronzed features of the French rascal.

“I think I can do it. Captain Ecuyer is my friend, and was the friend of my brother. He will aid us all he can.”

“Ze post ees mine, haf I not said so before? Ze _capitaine_ must respect Jean Bevoir’s rights. Ven he comes here I show heem ze papairs. He must respect ze document, _oui_.”

“You have no right to this place, and I know it,” answered Joseph Morris, doggedly. “Then you will not give up?”

“No, nevair!”

“Then, when we bring the soldiers, the consequence be on your own head,” said the trader, and walked away to join his friends. He was just entering the forest when a rifle shot rang out and the bullet whistled close to his ear.

“The skunks!” roared Sam Barringford. “Didn’t I tell ye they wasn’t to be trusted?”

“I think I have fooled them,” said the planter. The shot had somewhat disturbed him, but he did not show it. “Now, let us pretend to break camp and march away.”

This was done with great skillfulness, at a point where those in the post could see what was going on. Everything was packed on the horses and they moved off, up the Ohio. They continued to journey onward until darkness and a bend in the river hid them from the view of their enemy.

“Now to get back, and get ready for the attack,” said Joseph Morris, and he had Barringford lead the way, by a route deep in the forest, where it would be impossible for anybody at the post to catch sight of them.

The marching away of the expedition was viewed with interest by Jean Bevoir, Moon Eye, and their followers. At first they imagined it might be a ruse, but then concluded that Joseph Morris really intended to go to Fort Pitt for assistance.

“What he said about Captain Ecuyer is true,” said Benoit Vascal to Jean Bevoir, in their own tongue. “The Morrises were warm friends of the fort commandant. He will surely do all he can for them.”

“The soldiers will aid their own,” said Moon Eye. “Did not these whites get aid when Moon Eye was fighting them? If they reach Fort Pitt and obtain assistance it may go hard with all of us.”

“It is a long journey,” said Jean Bevoir.

“Yes, but spring is at hand,” answered Moon Eye. “Soon the trail will be open, and then the journey will not be difficult. The soldiers will be glad of a march, after being housed up so long.”

“And what do you advise?” asked the French trader.

“Let us follow them on the sly and shoot them down. They will not dream of our leaving the post. We can fall upon them when they are asleep and kill them to a man.”

“Yes! yes! let us do that!” said a warrior who was eager for bloodshed. “Remember the saying, ‘the dead bear brings no news to her cubs.’”

A general council of war was held, and the upshot of the matter was that it was decided to leave the post under the care of two of the Frenchmen and two Indians. All of the others, including Moon Eye, Jean Bevoir, and Benoit Vascal, prepared to follow up the Morris expedition as soon as it seemed safe to do so.

Unconscious of what was in the minds of their enemy, our friends made a long detour through the mighty forest and arrived in the vicinity of the post once more shortly after midnight. They found everything remarkably quiet and not a single light of any kind was showing.

Barringford lost no time in entering the tunnel, followed by Dave and Henry. The others came after, each taking his gun and hunting knife with him.

“Be cautious,” warned Joseph Morris. “Do not risk a shot needlessly.”

When the old frontiersman reached the flat stone he shoved it up as before. All was still quiet and dark, and scraping away some of the snow he broke the icy covering and peered forth. He could see the storehouse and stable and above was the clear sky, with the stars twinkling far overhead.

“Nobuddy in sight,” he whispered, after a careful survey of the surroundings.

He stepped out of the tunnel and like a ghost vanished into a dark angle of the storehouse building. Dave and Henry followed him, and then came Joseph Morris and some others.

The hearts of all beat rapidly, for they felt that they were taking their lives in their hands. A discovery might mean death for many and perhaps all of them.

“Ha! I see a man!” whispered Barringford, and pointed out a Frenchman, stationed, gun in hand, near the stockade gate.

“And there is an Indian,” put in Dave, pointing to another portion of the post defense.

Try their best they could see no others on guard. The Frenchman and the Indian walked up and down slowly, stopping every few minutes to peer through one loophole or another.

“The others must be asleep,” whispered Joseph Morris. “If so we may be able to surprise them completely.”

In a few minutes all of the party were out of the tunnel. Several looked into the stable and storehouse, to find both empty, saving for stores, pelts, and horses.

“Let us move to the main building,” whispered Joseph Morris. “At the first sign of an outbreak, fire on them and show them no quarter.”

“They need expect no quarter from me, Jean Bevoir especially,” answered Dave, grimly.

The entrance to the main building was gained, and still they caught sight of nobody but the two guards near the stockade. Softly the door was pushed open and Sam Barringford entered, followed by Joseph Morris and Dave and Henry.

A bright fire burnt in the big open chimney, casting a ruddy glare around the room. In front of the fire, on the floor, lay an Indian, snoring lustily. On a couch in a corner rested a Frenchman, also asleep.

Without awaking the sleepers, Dave and Henry glided into the sleeping room of the post. Here it was dark, and they had to go slow, for fear of arousing somebody. They felt their way from bunk to bunk, listening intently and putting forth cautious hands. Then they tiptoed their way back to the main room.

“The bunks are empty!” whispered Dave, and Henry nodded.

“All of them?” queried Joseph Morris.

“Yes.”

“They must be outside—maybe they are going to trap us after all,” came softly from Sam Barringford. “We had better——”

He stopped short and raised his long rifle. The sleeping Frenchman had roused up and was staring at the intruders. He rubbed his eyes in bewilderment.

“What want you here?” he stammered, in French.

“Silence!” came sternly from the old frontiersman. “Silence, ef ye don’t want to be kilt!”

The Frenchman understood little of English, but he understood enough, and he calmly submitted to being bound with a rope that was handy. In the midst of the work the Indian awoke, gave a swift look around, and started for the doorway, uttering a war-cry as he did so.

“Stop!” cried Joseph Morris, and fired his rifle at the red warrior. His aim was true, and the Indian went down, wounded in the back. Then came a shout from outside in French, followed by a war-whoop.

“We must fight for it now!” cried Henry.

“I am ready!” answered Dave. “Come on! The quicker we get at them the better!”