The Masters of the Peaks: A Story of the Great North Woods

"Great Bear speaks the truth, as he always does. No white man can stand it. If he tried it his sufferings would be beyond anything of which he might dream."

A groan burst suddenly from the wretched Garay. The hunter and the Onondaga looked at each other and their eyes expressed astonishment.

"Did you hear a sound in the thicket?" asked Willet.

"I think it came from the boughs overhead," said Tayoga.

"I could have sworn 'twas the growl of a bear."

"To me it sounded like the croak of a crow."

"After all, we may have heard nothing. Imagination plays strange tricks with us."

"It is true, Great Bear. We hear queer sounds when there are no sounds at all. The air is full of spirits, and now and then they have sport with us."

A second groan burst from Garay, now more wretched than ever.

"I heard it again!" exclaimed the hunter. "'Tis surely the growl of a bear in the bush! The sound was like that of an angry wild animal! But, we'll let it go. The sun tells meet's half past eight o'clock and I go to ask our guest the usual question."

"Enough!" exclaimed Garay. "I yield! I cannot bear this any longer!"

"Your papers, please!"

"Unbind me and give me food!"

"Your papers first, our fish next."

As he spoke the hunter leaned over, and with his keen hunting knife severed Garay's bonds. The man sat up, rubbed his wrists and ankles and breathed deeply.

"Your papers!" repeated Willet.

"Bring me my pistol, the one that the Indian filched from me while I slept," said Garay.

"Your pistol!" exclaimed the hunter, in surprise. "Now I'd certainly be foolish to hand you a deadly and loaded weapon!"

But Robert's quick intellect comprehended at once. He snatched the heavy pistol from the Onondaga's belt, drew forth the bullet and then drew the charge behind it, not powder at all, but a small, tightly folded paper of tough tissue, which he held aloft triumphantly.

"Very clever! very clever!" said Willet in admiration. "The pistol was loaded, but 'twould never be fired, and nobody would have thought of searching its barrel. Tayoga, give Monsieur Garay the two spare fish and anything else he wants, but see that he eats sparingly because a gorge will go ill with a famished man, and then we'll have a look at his precious document."

The Onondaga treated Garay as the honored guest they had been calling him, giving him the whole variety of their breakfast, but, at guarded intervals, which allowed him to relish to the full all the savors and juices that had been taunting him so long. Willet opened the letter, smoothed it out carefully on his knee, and holding it up to the light until the words stood out clearly, read:

"To Hendrik Martinus At Albany.

"The intermediary of whom you know, the bearer of this letter, has brought me word from you that the English Colonial troops, after the unfortunate battle at Lake George, have not pushed their victory. He also informs us that the governors of the English colonies do not agree, and that there is much ill feeling among the different Colonial forces. He says that Johnson still suffering from his wound, does not move, and that the spirit has gone out of our enemies. All of which is welcome news to us at this juncture, since it has given to us the time that we need.

"Our defeat but incites us to greater efforts. The Indian tribes who have cast their lot with us are loyal to our arms. All the forces of France and New France are being assembled to crush our foes. We have lost Dieskau, but a great soldier, Louis Joseph de Saint Véran, the Marquis de Montcalm-Gozon, is coming from France to lead our armies. He will be assisted by the incomparable chieftains, the Chevalier de Levis, the Chevalier Bourlamaque and others who understand the warfare of the wilderness. Even now we are preparing to move with a great power on Albany and we may surprise the town.

"Tell those of whom you know in Albany and New York to be ready with rifles and ammunition and other presents for the Indian warriors. Much depends upon their skill and promptness in delivering these valuable goods to the tribes. It seals them to our standard. They can be landed at the places of which we know, and then be carried swiftly across the wilderness. But I bid you once more to exercise exceeding caution. Let no name of those associated with us ever be entrusted to writing, as a single slip might bring our whole fabric crashing to the ground, and send to death those who serve us. After you have perused this letter destroy it. Do not tear it in pieces and throw them away but burn it to the last and least little fragment. In conclusion I say yet again, caution, caution, caution.

Raymond Louis de St. Luc."

The three looked at one another. Garay was in the third course of his breakfast, and no longer took notice of anything else.

"Those associated with us in Albany and New York," quoted Willet. "Now I wonder who they are. I might make a shrewd guess at one, but no names are given and as we have no proof we must keep silent about him for the present. Yet this paper is of vast importance and it must be put in hands that know how to value it."

"Then the hands must be those of Colonel William Johnson," said Robert.

"I fancy you're right, lad. Yet 'tis hard just now to decide upon the wisest policy."

"The colonel is the real leader of our forces," persisted the lad. "It's to him that we must go."

"It looks so, Robert, but for a few days we've got to consider ourselves. Now that we have his letter I wish we didn't have Garay."

"You wouldn't really have starved him, would you, Dave? Somehow it seemed pretty hard."

The hunter laughed heartily.

"Bless your heart, lad," he replied. "Don't you be troubled about the way we dealt with Garay. I knew all the while that he would never get to the starving point, or I wouldn't have tried it with him. I knew by looking at him that his isn't the fiber of which martyrs are made. I calculated that he would give up last night or this morning."

"Are we going to take him back with us a prisoner?"

"That's the trouble. As a spy, which he undoubtedly is, his life is forfeit, but we are not executioners. For scouts and messengers such as we are he'd be a tremendous burden to take along with us. Moreover, I think that after his long fast he'd eat all the game we could kill, and we don't propose to spend our whole time feeding one of our enemies."

"Call Tayoga," said Robert.

The Onondaga came and then young Lennox said to his two comrades:

"Are you willing to trust me in the matter of Garay, our prisoner?"

"Yes," they replied together.

Robert went to the man, who was still immersed in his gross feeding, and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Listen, Garay," he said. "You're the bearer of secret and treacherous dispatches, and you're a spy. You must know that under all the rules of war your life is forfeit to your captors."

Garay's face became gray and ghastly.

"You—you wouldn't murder me?" he said.

"There could be no such thing as murder in your case, and we won't take your life, either."

The face of the intermediary recovered its lost color.

"You will spare me, then?" he exclaimed joyfully.

"In a way, yes, but we're not going to carry you back in luxury to Albany, nor are we thinking of making you an honored member of our band. You've quite a time before you."

"I don't understand you."

"You will soon. You're going back to the Chevalier de St. Luc who has little patience with failure, and you'll find that the road to him abounds in hard traveling. It may be, too, that the savage Tandakora will ask you some difficult questions, but if so, Monsieur Achille Garay, it will be your task to answer them, and I take it that you have a fertile mind. In any event, you will be equipped to meet him by your journey, which will be full of variety and effort and which will strengthen and harden your mind."

The face of Garay paled again, and he gazed at Robert in a sort of dazed fashion. The imagination of young Lennox was alive and leaping. He had found what seemed to him a happy solution of a knotty problem, and, as usual in such cases, his speech became fluent and golden.

"Oh, you'll enjoy it, Monsieur Achille Garay," he said in his mellow, persuasive voice. "The forest is beautiful at this time of the year and the mountains are so magnificent always that they must appeal to anyone who has in his soul the strain of poetry that I know you have. The snow, too, I think has gone from the higher peaks and ridges and you will not be troubled by extreme cold. If you should wander from the path back to St. Luc you will have abundant leisure in which to find it again, because for quite a while to come time will be of no importance to you. And as you'll go unarmed, you'll be in no danger of shooting your friends by mistake."

"You're not going to turn me into the wilderness to starve?"

"Not at all. We'll give you plenty of food. Tayoga and I will see you well on your way. Now, since you've eaten enough, you start at once."

Tayoga and the hunter fell in readily with Robert's plan. The captive received enough food to last four days, which he carried in a pack fastened on his back, and then Robert and Tayoga accompanied him northward and back on the trail.

Much of Garay's courage returned as they marched steadily on through the forest. When he summed it up he found that he had fared well. His captors had really been soft-hearted. It was not usual for one serving as an intermediary and spy like himself to escape, when taken, with his life and even with freedom. Life! How precious it was! Young Lennox had said that the forest was beautiful, and it was! It was splendid, grand, glorious to one who had just come out of the jaws of death, and the air of late autumn was instinct with vitality. He drew himself up jauntily, and his step became strong and springy.

They walked on many miles and Robert, whose speech had been so fluent before, was silent now. Nor did the Onondaga speak either. Garay himself hazarded a few words, but meeting with no response his spirits fell a little. The trail led over a low ridge, and at its crest his two guards stopped.

"Here we bid you farewell, Monsieur Achille Garay," said Robert. "Doubtless you will wish to commune with your own thoughts and our presence will no longer disturb you. Our parting advice to you is to give up the trade in which you have been engaged. It is full perilous, and it may be cut short at any time by sudden death. Moreover, it is somewhat bare of honor, and even if it should be crowned by continued success 'tis success of a kind that's of little value. Farewell."

"Farewell," said Garay, and almost before he could realize it, the two figures had melted into the forest behind him. A weight was lifted from him with their going, and once more his spirits bounded upward. He was Achille Garay, bold and venturesome, and although he was without weapons he did not fear two lads.

Three miles farther on he turned. He did not care to face St. Luc, his letter lost, and the curious, dogged obstinacy that lay at the back of his character prevailed. He would go back. He would reach those for whom his letter had been intended, Martinus and the others, and he would win the rich rewards that had been promised to him. He had plenty of food, he would make a wide curve, advance at high speed and get to Albany ahead of the foolish three.

He turned his face southward and walked swiftly through the thickets. A rifle cracked and a twig overhead severed by a bullet fell upon his face. Garay shivered and stood still for a long time. Courage trickled back, and he resumed his advance, though it was slow. A second rifle cracked, and a bullet passed so close to his cheek that he felt its wind. He could not restrain a cry of terror, and turning again he fled northward to St. Luc.

CHAPTER VI

PUPILS OF THE BEAR

When Robert and Tayoga returned to the camp and told Willet what they had done the hunter laughed a little.

"Garay doesn't want to face St. Luc," he said, "but he will do it anyhow. He won't dare to come back on the trail in face of bullets, and now we're sure to deliver his letter in ample time."

"Should we go direct to Albany?" asked Robert.

The hunter cupped his chin in his hand and meditated.

"I'm all for Colonel Johnson," he replied at last. "He understands the French and Indians and has more vigor than the authorities at Albany. It seems likely to me that he will still be at the head of Lake George where we left him, perhaps building the fort of which they were talking before we left there."

"His wound did not give promise of getting well so very early," said Robert, "and he would not move while he was in a weakened condition."

"Then it's almost sure that he's at the head of the lake and we'll turn our course toward that point. What do you say, Tayoga?"

"Waraiyageh is the man to have the letter, Great Bear. If it becomes necessary for him to march to the defense of Albany he will do it."

"Then the three of us are in unanimity and Lake George it is instead of Albany."

They started in an hour, and changing their course somewhat, began a journey across the maze of mountains toward Andiatarocte, the lake that men now call George, and Robert's heart throbbed at the thought that he would soon see it again in all its splendor and beauty. He had passed so much of his life near them that his fortunes seemed to him to be interwoven inseparably with George and Champlain.

They thought they would reach the lake in a few days, but in a wilderness and in war the plans of men often come to naught. Before the close of the day they came upon traces of a numerous band traveling on the great trail between east and west, and they also found among them footprints that turned out. These Willet and Tayoga examined with the greatest care and interest and they lingered longest over a pair uncommonly long and slender.

"I think they're his," the hunter finally said.

"So do I," said the Onondaga.

"Those long, slim feet could belong to nobody but the Owl."

"It can be only the Owl."

"Now, who under the sun is the Owl?" asked Robert, mystified.

"The Owl is, in truth, a most dangerous man," replied the hunter. "His name, which the Indians have given him, indicates he works by night, though he's no sloth in the day, either. But he has another name, also, the one by which he was christened. It's Charles Langlade, a young Frenchman who was a trader before the war. I've seen him more than once. He's mighty shrewd and alert, uncommon popular among the western Indians, who consider him as one of them because he married a good looking young Indian woman at Green Bay, and a great forester and wilderness fighter. It's wonderful how the French adapt themselves to the ways of the Indians and how they take wives among them. I suppose the marriage tie is one of their greatest sources of strength with the tribes. Now, Tayoga, why do you think the Owl is here so far to the eastward of his usual range?"

"He and his warriors are looking for scalps, Great Bear, and it may be that they have seen St. Luc. They were traveling fast and they are now between us and Andiatarocte. I like it but little."

"Not any less than I do. It upsets our plans. We must leave the trail, or like as not we'll run squarely into a big band. What a pity our troops didn't press on after the victory at the lake. Instead of driving the French and Indians out of the whole northern wilderness we've left it entirely to them."

They turned from the trail with reluctance, because, strong and enduring as they were, incessant hardships, long traveling and battle were beginning to tell upon all three, and they were unwilling to be climbing again among the high mountains. But there was no choice and night found them on a lofty ridge in a dense thicket. The hunter and the Onondaga were disturbed visibly over the advent of Langlade, and their uneasiness was soon communicated to the sympathetic mind of Robert.

The night being very clear, sown with shining stars, they saw rings of smoke rising toward the east, and outlined sharply against the dusky blue.

"That's Langlade sending up signals," said the hunter, anxiously, "and he wouldn't do it unless he had something to talk about."

"When one man speaks another man answers," said Tayoga. "Now from what point will come the reply?"

Robert felt excitement. These rings of smoke in the blue were full of significance for them, and the reply to the first signal would be vital. "Ah!" he exclaimed suddenly. The answer came from the west, directly behind them.

"I think they've discovered our trail," said Willet. "They didn't learn it from Garay, because Langlade passed before we sent him back, but they might have heard from St. Luc or Tandakora that we were somewhere in the forest. It's bad. If it weren't for the letter we could turn sharply to the north and stay in the woods till Christmas, if need be."

"We may have to do so, whether we wish it or not," said Tayoga. "The shortest way is not always the best."

Before morning they saw other smoke signals in the south, and it became quite evident then that the passage could not be tried, except at a risk perhaps too great to take.

"There's nothing for it but the north," said Willet, "and we'll trust to luck to get the letter to Waraiyageh in time. Perhaps we can find Rogers. He must be roaming with his rangers somewhere near Champlain."

At dawn they were up and away, but all through the forenoon they saw rings of smoke rising from the peaks and ridges, and the last lingering hope that they were not followed disappeared. It became quite evident to their trained observation and the powers of inference from circumstances which had become almost a sixth sense with them that there was a vigorous pursuit, closing in from three points of the compass, south, east and west. They slept again the next night in the forest without fire and arose the following morning cold, stiff and out of temper. While they eased their muscles and prepared for the day's flight they resolved upon a desperate expedient.

It was vital now to carry the letter to Johnson and then to Albany, which they considered more important than their own escape, and they could not afford to be driven farther and farther into the recesses of the north, while St. Luc might be marching with a formidable force on Albany itself.

"With us it's unite to fight and divide for flight," said Robert, divining what was in the mind of the others.

"The decision is forced upon us," said Willet, regretfully.

Tayoga nodded.

"We'll read the letter again several times, until all of us know it by heart," said the hunter.

The precious document was produced, and they went over it until each could repeat it from memory. Then Willet said:

"I'm the oldest and I'll take the letter and go south past their bands. One can slip through where three can't."

He spoke with such decision that the others, although Tayoga wanted the task of risk and honor, said nothing.

"And do you, Robert and Tayoga," resumed the hunter, "continue your flight to the northward. You can keep ahead of these bands, and, when you discover the chase has stopped, curve back for Lake George. If by any chance I should fall by the way, though it's not likely, you can repeat the letter to Colonel Johnson, and let's hope you'll be in time. Now good-by, and God bless you both."

Willet never displayed emotion, but his feeling was very deep as he wrung the outstretched hand of each. Then he turned at an angle to the east and south and disappeared in the undergrowth.

"He has been more than a father to me," said Robert.

"The Great Bear is a man, a man who is pleasing to Areskoui himself," said Tayoga with emphasis.

"Do you think he will get safely through?"

"There is no warrior, not even of the Clan of the Bear, of the Nation Onondaga, of the great League of the Hodenosaunee, who can surpass the Great Bear in forest skill and cunning. In the night he will creep by Tandakora himself, with such stealth, that not a leaf will stir, and there will be not the slightest whisper in the grass. His step, too, will be so light that his trail will be no more than a bird's in the air."

Robert laughed and felt better.

"You don't stint the praise of a friend, Tayoga," he said, "but I know that at least three-fourths of what you say is true. Now, I take it that you and I are to play the hare to Langlade's hounds, and that in doing so we'll be of great help to Dave."

"Aye," agreed the Onondaga, and they swung into their gait. Robert had received Garay's pistol which, being of the same bore as his own, was now loaded with bullet and powder, instead of bullet and paper, and it swung at his belt, while Tayoga carried the intermediary's rifle, a fine piece. It made an extra burden, but they had been unwilling to throw it away—a rifle was far too valuable on the border to be abandoned.

They maintained a good pace until noon, and, as they heard no sound behind them, less experienced foresters than they might have thought the pursuit had ceased, but they knew better. It had merely settled into that tenacious kind which was a characteristic of the Indian mind, and unless they could hide their trail it would continue in the same determined manner for days. At noon, they paused a half hour in a dense grove and ate bear and deer meat, sauced with some fine, black wild grapes, the vines hanging thick on one of the trees.

"Think of those splendid banquets we enjoyed when Garay was sitting looking at us, though not sharing with us," said Robert.

Tayoga smiled at the memory and said:

"If he had been able to hold out a little longer he would have had plenty of food, and we would not have had the letter. The Great Bear would never have starved him."

"I know that now, Tayoga, and I learn from it that we're to hold out too, long after we think we're lost, if we're to be the victors."

They came in the afternoon to a creek, flowing in their chosen course, and despite the coldness of its waters, which rose almost to their knees, they waded a long time in its bed. When they went out on the bank they took off their leggings and moccasins, wrung or beat out of them as much of the water as they could, and then let them dry for a space in the sun, while they rubbed vigorously their ankles and feet to create warmth. They knew that Langlade's men would follow on either side of the creek until they picked up the trail again, but their maneuver would create a long delay, and give them a rest needed badly.

"Have you anything in mind, Tayoga?" asked Robert. "You know that the farther north and higher we go the colder it will become, and our flight may take us again into the very heart of a great snow storm."

"It is so, Dagaeoga, but it is also so that I do have a plan. I think I know the country into which we are coming, and that tells me what to do. The people of my race, living from the beginning of the world in the great forest, have not been too proud to learn from the animals, and of all the animals we know perhaps the wisest is the bear."

"The bear is scarcely an animal, Tayoga. He is almost a human being. He has as good a sense of humor as we have, and he is more careful about minding his own business, and letting alone that of other people."

"Dagaeoga is not without wisdom. We will even learn from the bear. A hundred miles to the north of us there is a vast rocky region containing many caves, where the bears go in great numbers to sleep the long winters through. It is not much disturbed, because it is a dangerous country, lying between the Hodenosaunee and the Indian nations to the north, with which we have been at war for centuries. There we will go."

"And hole up until our peril passes! Your plan appeals to me, Tayoga! I will imitate the bear! I will even be a bear!"

"We will take the home of one of them before he comes for it himself, and we will do him no injustice, because the wise bear can always find another somewhere else."

"They're fine caves, of course!" exclaimed Robert, buoyantly, his imagination, which was such a powerful asset with him, flaming up as usual. "Dry and clean, with plenty of leaves for beds, and with nice little natural shelves for food, and a pleasant little brook just outside the door. It will be pleasant to lie in our own cave, the best one of course, and hear the snow and sleet storms whistle by, while we're warm and comfortable. If we only had complete assurance that Dave was through with the letter I'd be willing to stay there until spring."