How Canada Was Won: A Tale of Wolfe and Quebec, Page 2

  Chapter II

  French Outlaws and Robbers

  "We won't waste no time in gettin' rid of them pelts," said HuntingJim, early on the following morning, as the little party sat abouttheir fire, which was close to the bank of the Hudson river and withina few yards of the nearest house. "I don't reckon Albany's much of aplace fer us jest now. There's the French up by Lake George, and aDutchman I struck at sunrise, a chap as round as a barrel; guessedthat they or their Injuns might hop in here any time. What do yer say,Judge?"

  "We need not fear them," was the calm answer, given after more than aminute's silence. "They will hardly dare to raid this place, for atthe present time they are doing their utmost to conciliate the Dutchand win them over to their own side. The same may be said of theIndians. You see, boys, we colonists are far more numerous than theFrench, though they are far better led and organised. Our people seemto devote all their time to squabbling amongst themselves."

  "While the poor white critters out in the woods gets scalped byfifties and hundreds. Reckon that's a shame," growled Jim. "But aboutthese pelts."

  "Lave it to Steve," burst in Mac, putting his strong fingers throughhis shock head of tousled hair. "He's our shopman, so he is, and faithhe'll get as big a price as any. Bigger, me bhoy, so lave it to him."

  "You're right, Mac. Steve's the boy," Jim agreed, with a nod, whileTom Mainwaring smiled approvingly as his son's name was mentioned."Yer see, that thar feller Schiller's as hard as a stone I reckon,and when it comes to a deal with me, or you, Mac, he jest twists uskinder round his finger. He knows we ain't got no other market, and sohe jest offers what'd be a fair price for a dozen of the skins. Then,if we looks disgusted, as like as not he'll put a little extry to hisprice as a kind of bait. Reckon he's 'cute. He knows we've got to takehis stuff or well nigh starve before we reach another settlement. I'vefelt often that I was being robbed by the skunk, but what air a man todo? Refuse did yer say, Mac?"

  "That's so, me bhoy. Indade ye wouldn't be giving the pelts away, soye wouldn't."

  "Then jest you try that 'ere game," exclaimed Jim, somewhat hotly."That chap Schiller's got the broadest back and the coolest temperI ever saw. It's what he offers or nothing. If you ain't pleased,he jest gets up from his chair and starts to walk into his house.Reckon a fellow can't stand that. He's got to soften and give way. ButSteve's the boy. Steve, will yer trade with this 'ere Schiller?"

  "Ready and willing, Jim," was the tall lad's eager answer. "I did itlast time, and I'll try again on this occasion. But mind you, you mustback me up."

  "We'll do that," sang out Jim. "Then bring them pelts along."

  They went to the pile of skins, and each taking a load, marched intothe town of Albany, leaving Tom Mainwaring and the Indians to guardthe camp. And a strange procession they made as they came along thewide street, past the prosperous Dutch houses and the well-dressed andcomfortable-looking owners. Not that they attracted much attention,for hunters and trappers were a common sight in the streets of Albanyin those days, and pelts often exchanged hands there.

  To the trapper, the tough and hardy woodsman who had been scouringthe forest during the winter and late summer before, hunting gameand caring for the skins, this visit to Albany was one of no smallimportance. This expedition and the stores he would obtain were asource of interest and expectation during the long cold months, andthe trade he could do was of no small importance. For each skin meantso much in the way of powder, so much lead, or perhaps a new musket.With the goods he obtained he went back to his log hut, and by dint ofgreat care managed to eke them out over the winter. As for the traderwho took the pelts, he found an eager market for them in New York, andmade a huge profit over the transaction.

  Bearing their pelts on their shoulders, with their muskets in fullevidence, and the blades of their keen tomahawks glittering beneaththeir belts, the three trappers marched down the street sturdily,their heads in the air, looking what they were, a thoroughlyindependent and hardy trio. And presently they came to Hans Schiller'shouse, and saw the negro servants of the trader bustling about theplace. Dropping their pelts on the stone flagging of the _stoep_,Steve and his comrades squatted down on the steps.

  "Hi, there, my black lady," sang out Jim, "reckon we want that Dutchmaster o' yours. Fetch the boy along."

  The negro servant giggled, stared with open admiration in her big eyesat the sturdy backwoodsman, and then departed into the house. Theyheard her call out in broken Dutch, and soon a heavy tread withinshowed that someone was coming.

  "Now, Steve, reckon you've got to best this 'ere Schiller," said Jimin a warning voice. "Yer did the trade for us last year, and thereain't a doubt as he was more liberal than ever before. See what yercan do this time. H-hush! it's the old gal. He's trying the same oldgame."

  As he spoke an exceedingly fat and unwieldy woman waddled to the opendoor of the house and pushed her head out. She looked calmly, almostcontemptuously at the trio seated on the _stoep_, and then called outin very broken English.

  "Hans Schiller," she called, "there's mens here." Then turning againto the trappers she cried, "Vot for yo vant?"

  Steve tapped the piled-up skins. "Pelts for exchange, madam," he said,with a little bow. "We are waiting to see Hans Schiller. Ah, here heis. Fill up your pipes, boys."

  Steve had been to Hans Schiller before, and had gone all throughthe excitement of trading with him. He remembered that on the lastoccasion he was constantly interrupted by Jim or by Mac, and thoughtthat a pipe might help them to remain silent.

  "That's the sort, boys," he said. "And just remember, a man can tradebest when he's left to himself. Keep a hold on your tongues. Howd'yMr. Schiller? It's a fine summer."

  The Dutchman, who had just emerged from the doorway, thrust out a hotand very fat hand, and allowed Steve to grip it, wincing as the strongfingers squeezed him.

  "Stop! These men are wild beasts," he exclaimed beneath his breath,and in somewhat better English than his wife boasted. "He squeezemy hand so last time, and the others always the same. Good day,gentlemens. You vant me? Ah, you have some skins. That is sad, versad."

  He cast a swift look at the piled-up pelts as he exchanged a handshakewith Jim and Mac; and Steve, who watched him carefully, noticed thata covetous look came over his fat face. But Hans was quick to smotherit.

  "Ver sad indeet," he repeated, shaking his bald head. "You come toAlbany ver late. All the trapper come and gone perhaps month ago. Ihab bought many skin this summer."

  "Then we'll not trouble you, Mr. Schiller," said Steve quickly, givingJim a knowing wink. "We came straight to you because we have alwaysbeen here. But if you've already bought as much as you want--why,mates, we'll get on further."

  It was ludicrous to watch the expression on the various faces. Mac,with the quick wit of his race, grasped Steve's meaning and intentionin an instant, and puffing clouds of smoke from his pipe, rose to hisfeet and shouldered one of the bales. But Jim possessed a somewhatslower intelligence in such matters. He was no trader, and knewnothing of the subtleties of bargaining. His mouth opened wide in hisconsternation.

  "Thunder!" he began. "Blest ef the lad----"

  "Jim, what are you waiting for?" asked Steve suddenly. "Can't youhear? Mr. Schiller's bought all he wants, and now we're off down thetown to the other folks. Bustle up. We want to get out of this as soonas possible."

  "Not so quick, frens," exclaimed Hans, putting a restraining hand onSteve's shoulder and speaking in somewhat anxious tones. "I can buymore if they are good. Sit down and let me see them. Gretchen!"

  The three trappers returned to their seats, and the trading wasbegun. Steve had a very good notion of the value of the skins, and heknew that high prices were to be obtained for them in New York. He wasalso aware that the trapper as a rule bore all the fatigue and risk ofgetting the pelts, and was miserably rewarded. He was not avaricious,but at the same time he knew the needs of his comrades, and, unlikethem, had the courage to face a possible failure in the negotiations.

  "I
shall be ruint! Indeet, you will take all that I hab," grumbledHans, when all the skins were displayed, and Steve had demanded morethan double the amount of powder, lead, and other commodities whichthe Dutchman offered. "I shall be ruint! Nod anoder dollar's worth doyou hab. Dat is all. De last cent."

  Steve smiled one of his easiest smiles and looked coaxingly at thetrader.

  "Come, Mr. Schiller," he said pleasantly, "don't let it be said thatyou lost such a chance. This is the finest lot of skins that you haveseen, that you admit. A pity if you let it go to the others fartherdown the street. Come now, make another offer."

  Not for one moment did he become flurried or lose that air ofconfident assurance which he had worn from the very first. And after alittle while the deal was settled and the trio rose to go.

  "Reckon you're the 'cutest feller as ever I set eyes on," said Jim, asthey trudged back to the camp, half a dozen of the Dutchman's negroservants in their wake bearing sundry bales and boxes. "That 'eredeal war the finest as ever I listened to, and, shucks! ain't you acool 'un! I didn't jest dare to look at yer too often, nor at Mac norHans. I jest sat and smoked, gripping at me pipe ter keep meself fromsplitting with laughter. Reckon it war better nor an Injun palaver,and that 'ere Hans knew he was beat. Yer watched him give a gasp whenyou was for movin'?"

  "I did," answered Steve. "You can be sure that Hans Schiller lives andgrows fat on his earnings. He need never stir out of his house tilllate in the summer. Then he floats down the Hudson in a flat-bottomedboat, and trades his skins at New York for dollars. A few of those buythe stuff he needs for trading with the trappers, and back he comes,with a sack and more of dollars, and with nothing to do but smoke hispipe all through the winter."

  "We've had some friends enquiring after us," said Steve's father whenthe three had returned to the camp. "A couple of Indians have beenquestioning Silver Fox and Talking Bear. See them over there."

  They swung round, and looking in the direction he indicated, caughtsight of a couple of feathered heads peeping from behind the trees.

  "I don't like them fellers," said Jim quickly, staring at the headstill they were withdrawn. "What air they after?"

  "What do they and their sort generally want?" was Tom's rejoinder.

  "Scalps and lead, and sich things as we've jest brought here," Jimanswered swiftly. "Reckon we'll have to keep an eye round for themvarmint. What do yer say, Silver Fox?"

  He suddenly broke into the Mohawk tongue, which all understood, andfor a little while all joined in an earnest and low-toned conversation.

  "They ain't after no good, I'll swear," said Jim, with emphasis."Reckon we'll have to go careful, mates."

  "Then I vote that we give it out that we are staying here tillto-morrow or the next day," broke in Steve. "That will make themkeep a careless watch upon us perhaps, and to-night we can slip awayunseen."

  It was a good suggestion, and brought a grunt of approval from Jim.

  "It air a good idea, young feller," he said, as he smoked his pipe."Jest get out something to eat and pass it round. After that we'll putin a sleep, as if we was fixed to stay here best part of a week. Efany one comes axin' questions, jest tell 'em what we've arranged."

  At such a time all knew well that they could not be too careful,for though a large number of French and their Indian allies wouldnot have ventured to Albany, seeing that this was undoubted Britishterritory, and the Dutch were partisans of the colonists, still thesleepy little trading town was just the place where a roving bandof small dimensions might take up its quarters, or rather in itsimmediate neighbourhood, sending some of their scouts into the townto gather information. And a small band, such as Steve and his friendscomprised, with their store of powder and other trade goods, would bea very valuable capture. They could not therefore be too careful, andin order to make it appear as if they were intending to stay for a dayor more, Steve and Silver Fox lay down to sleep, while Tom and theothers lounged about the camp.

  "Reckon I'll stroll along the houses," said Jim, after a while. "MaybeI'll see some more of these 'ere fellows."

  He rose to his feet without another word, and was on the point ofleaving the camp when Steve sat up.

  "I'll come too, Jim," he cried out. "I can't sleep, and a littleexercise will do me good."

  "Then hop along, young 'un. One of these days, when you've grown olderand ha' got more larnin', you'll find it's a wise man who puts insleep when he's the chance. Pick up that 'ere gun. Yer never knowswhen a bullet won't be useful."

  They left their friends lolling about the camp, and strolled into thetown. There were one or two stores to be found, and they hung aboutthese for a little while, staring with all a backwoodsman's curiosityat the goods displayed for sale.

  Then they strolled on again till they reached the far end of thestreet.

  "Reckon ther's one of them skunks a watchin'," said Jim, suddenlystopping and calmly filling his pipe. "Jest you walk on, Steve, whileI get a light. It'll give me a chanst to turn round."

  He sought for his tinder and steel, and began to strike the flint,turning his back to the wind and to his young companion, who strolledon. Two minutes later he had come up to Steve again.

  "Jest stroll on as we air, easy like," he said in low tones. "I warright. One of them redskin varmint's got his eyes on us."

  "Then we'll slip into the wood up here, as if for a stroll, and whenwe're hidden we'll turn and watch. What do you say, Jim?"

  "That's the ticket, lad. Easy does it."

  A little while later the two were making their way through the wood,which grew densely close up to the houses at this end of Albany.They threaded their way in amongst the trees in single file, eachunslinging his musket as he stepped out of sight of the road. Whenthey had gone a quarter of a mile Jim came to a sudden halt.

  "Jest take cover, Steve," he said softly. "I'll get ahead, so as tolet that Injun guess we're still movin'. When he comes along, stand upin his way. That'll put a stop to his little game for to-day at anyrate, and'll let him see as we're awake."

  A moment later the crash of brushwood being swept aside told that Jimwas pushing on into the wood, making far more noise then he wouldotherwise have done. Steve took his stand in a dense mass of bush,and stepping on to the trunk of a fallen tree, kept a careful watchon the track which they had just covered. And very soon he caught afleeting glimpse of a feathered head, and of the tip of a barrel.Within three minutes a painted redskin suddenly came into full view,his eyes glued on the track. He was stepping along at a rapid pace,his nostrils distended, his feet making not a sound as he trod, andall his senses engaged in tracking those who had preceded him. Ashe came opposite the bush, Steve stepped out without so much as arustle and confronted the man, causing him to come to a sudden stop.For once the coolness of an Indian was upset. He gave a low grunt ofastonishment, and in a twinkling his musket was presented at Steve'shead. For just one brief instant our hero stared into the barrel, andthen, quick as thought, he ducked. There was a loud report, a tongueof flame and smoke spurted almost into his face, and his coon-skin capwas lifted from his head and carried into the bush behind. Then, longbefore he could use his own weapon, the Indian was upon him, his keentomahawk gleaming in his hand. Lucky it was for Steve that the stockof his musket caught the blade of the Indian's weapon, for had it notdone so, his head would have been crushed by the blow. But thoughtaken unawares, fortune was on his side, and an involuntary movementwarded off the blow. Then he dropped his musket, grasped the Indian'sarm, and in an instant they were rolling on the ground in a deathstruggle, the redskin making frantic efforts to strike with histomahawk, while Steve gripped the red-painted throat with his fingers,and clung there with all his strength. Not a cry did either give. Itwas one of those silent and desperate contests which the backwoods hadoften seen, and nothing but the gasping breaths of the combatants toldwhat was happening.

  "THE INDIAN WAS UPON HIM, HIS KEEN TOMAHAWK GLEAMING INHIS HAND"]

  "Reckon that war a close shave, young 'un," said Jim, in his
quietvoice, some few minutes later, staring at Steve as he lay breathingheavily on the ground. "That 'ere varmint was out to kill, and didn'treckon as you'd get a grip of his throat so early. Take a word fromJim. When you've got the best of an Injun, never feel safe till he'sdead. There ain't nothing in this world to touch 'em for cunnin'. Heknew you was holding his tomahawk arm, and in another half minute he'dhave been strangled. So he dropped his blade and used his two hands toshake yer off. Lucky I come along."

  Jim had indeed arrived just in the nick of time, and it was well forSteve that his tomahawk had put a sudden end to the contest.

  "Reckon it'll be a case of walk quick," said Jim, after a few moments'silence. "We can hide this here critter for a few hours, maybe a dayor more. But they'll find him sure enough, and then there'll be ahowl. Best get back to the camp." He then picked the dead man up,and stepping some yards away into the thickest bush, placed the bodybeside a fallen trunk.

  "They'd find that as easy as walk," he said, as he returned, "butwe'll put 'em off the trail. Come along, young 'un. We'll get back tothe camp."

  "And what about the other Indian?" said Steve suddenly. "He's watchingthere, isn't he?"

  "Reckon that's so, Steve."

  "Do you think that he and this man were alone, Jim?" asked our hero.

  "You ain't so 'cute by half as I thought yer," was the answer. "Reckonthere's a band of 'em that has made Albany their station. Like as notthey've wiped out a power of small trading trappers. These here chapsair their scouts."

  "Then let's find the band and take a look at them. Look here, Jim,we'll make through the wood till close to the camp, and pick up thetracks of these scouts. Then we'll----"

  It was comical to watch Jim as he grasped his young companion'sintentions. He swept his skin cap from his head, and darted a keenlook at him.

  "That air 'cute," he said. "Reckon I withdraws what I've said. Thatair the movement for us."

  Without further conversation they struck off into the forest, Stevefollowing closely in the wake of the hunter, and neither makingso much as a sound. Presently, when they judged that they wereapproaching their own camp, they came to a halt.

  "I've been thinkin' of that 'ere gun shot," said Jim. "But these treeshas made it safe. Reckon no one at this end has heard the sound. Let'sdivide."

  A quarter of an hour later, when they came together at the same spot,Steve was able to report that he had come upon a trail in the forest,and that the marks showed plainly that it had been used by two men atleast, and probably by half a dozen.

  "It's been in use for a couple of months, I should say, Jim, and Ithink that quite a number must have been along it. There are freshmarks of two moccasined feet."

  "Then we'll strike along it and see where it takes us, young feller,"was the answer. "We've dropped upon somethin' as may save our scalps.Jest strike off for it. I seed that other varmint keepin' watch on thecamp. He ain't got a thought that his brother has gone to the happyhuntin' grounds. That 'ere shot never come to his ears, or else he'dhave been looking into the matter by now. Reckon the strong wind andthe trees drowned it."

  They stood for a few moments preparing their muskets, each powderingthe pan afresh, and looking to the flint, for a misfire might havedisastrous consequences. Then Steve led the way, and in a little whilethey had struck into the trail which he had found. An hour's fastwalking took them some six miles into the forest, when, seeing thatthe trail still went on, they broke into a dog trot, which both werewell able to keep up for hours at a time. As it happened, however,another hour took them to some rising ground, where the forest grew asthick as ever, and where other tracks, many of them quite fresh onestoo, told them that they were in the immediate neighbourhood of a camp.

  "That air the whiff of terbacca," said Jim, raising his voice barelyto a whisper, and sniffing at the air like a dog. "We're makin' upwind, Steve, and ef I ain't right, why----"

  "It's smoke," answered Steve with conviction. "Let's get on."

  Stealing forward with their bodies close to the ground, it was notlong before the two came in sight of the camp. It was similar to anyother trapper's camp in its surroundings. There was a fire in thecentre of a narrow clearing, and three or four rough skin shelterswere erected under the shadow of the trees. Lounging round the firewere some twenty redskins, while a squaw was busily engaged in tendingsome cooking pots which swung over the flames.

  "This air a find," whispered Jim, squeezing Steve's arm. "These herecritters has come to stay, and I reckon there ain't any other redskinswithin miles, or else this camp would ha' been discovered long ago. Ahul tribe might camp under the noses of these fat Dutchmen without aone bein' the wiser."

  "And just look at their stores," whispered Steve, pointing to a numberof barrels and sacks and bales piled up beneath one of the skinshelters.

  "The critters!" growled Jim. "That air the trade of many a small bandof trappers same as us. Reckon them chaps has plenty of scalps. Lookthar!"

  This time there was an unusual amount of emphasis in his words, whilehis long brown hand shot out, and a finger pointed to the other sideof the camp, where one solitary figure was seated. Steve followed hisfinger, saw the man and watched with dilating eyes as he rose andturned towards them. He was a pale face, a white man like themselves,tanned and weather-beaten, and some twenty-five years of age. He wasdecked as an Indian, and resembled them exactly, save for the factthat his face was not painted.

  An exclamation of dismay burst from Steve. He crouched still lowerin the bushes, and then silently withdrew, fearful lest this whiteman should see him. Jim, too, slid silently away, and very soon thetwo were speeding back to their own camp at a fast trot, their sensesfully alert and their thoughts occupied with the white man and theband of Indians whom they had just discovered. A little later theyturned to the left, crept undetected into the town, and strolled inthe most casual way into the camp. No one looked up as they entered,but all had been anxiously awaiting them, that was evident, for theeyes of their comrades stole across in their direction, their longabsence having roused the fears of the others.

  "Air dinner ready?" asked Jim casually. "Then suppose we set down toit."

  "We're in a muss," he said some little while later, as all squattedabout the fire. "One of them critters that was watchin' followed usthrough the town and into the wood. It war almost a case with Steve.But we dropped the man. After that we struck the track at the back ofthis camp, and come upon the band. Boys, there air twenty of 'em atleast, and wuss than all there's a Frenchman leadin'. It's that 'ereJules from over the water."

  An exclamation of amazement and dismay burst from the listeners, forJules Lapon had won an unenviable reputation during the past threeyears. During that period hundreds of peaceful settlers and backwoodspeople had been butchered by the Red Indians, hounded on by theFrench, and in many cases French colonists and regular soldiers hadbeen with them. Bands of desperadoes had ranged the forests, and ofthese there was none more cruel, more successful and more feared thanthat of Jules Lapon, a young Frenchman who had settled some yearsbefore within a few miles of Tom Mainwaring's quarters. No wonder thatthe small band of trappers stared aghast at Jim for some few minutes.Then they found their voices, and began to discuss their futuremovements.

  "Reckon there ain't any doubt as to what's to be done," said Jim. "Efwe stay here till the winter falls, they'll still be waitin'. Thesehere Dutchmen can't give no protection, so we're bound to look toourselves. We'll have to git, and the sooner the better."