Chapter 52
"Not the warriors," he added quietly.
"What in heaven's name do you mean?" I demanded. But we were already within sight of the others, and I heeded the cautioning touch of his hand on my arm, and was silent.
When we came up to them I said:
"There are no riffles to indicate a ford"--which was true enough--"and on the sand were only moccasin tracks a week old."
"The Black-Snake saw them," said the Wyandotte, so frankly and calmly that my growing but indefinite suspicions of his loyalty were arrested for the moment.
"Why did not the Black-Snake report them?" I asked.
"They were St. Regis, and a week old, as my brother says." And he smiled at us all so confidingly that I could no longer believe ill of him.
"Nevertheless," said I, "we will range out on either flank as far as the ford which should be less than a mile down stream." And I placed the Wyandotte between both Oneidas and on the forest side; and as the valley was dry and open under its huge standing timber, I myself led, notching the trail and keeping a lively eye to the left, wherever I caught a glimpse of water sparkling.
Presently the Mohican halted in view of the river-bank, making a sign for me to join him, which I did, briefly bidding the Stockbridge Mole to notch the trees in my stead.
"A canoe has pa.s.sed," said the Sagamore calmly.
"What! You saw it?"
"No, Loskiel. But there was spray on a boulder in a calm pool."
"Perhaps a deer crossed, or a mink or otter crawled across the stone."
"No; the drops were many, but they lay like the first drops of a rain, separate and distinct."
"A great fish leaping might have spattered it."
"There was no wash against the rock from any fish-swirl."
"Then you believe that there is a canoe ahead of us going with the current?"
"An hour ahead--less, I think."
"Why an hour?"
"The sun is low; the river boulders are not hot. Water might dry on them in an hour or less. These drops were nearly dry, save one or two where the sun made them s.h.i.+ne."
"A careless paddle-stroke did it," I said in a low voice.
"No Indian is careless."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean, Loskiel, that the boulder was splashed purposely, or that there are white men in that canoe."
"Splashed purposely?" I said, bewildered.
"Perhaps. The Black-Snake had the river watch--until you changed our stations."
"You think it might have been a sign for him from possible confederates."
"Maybe. Maybe clumsy white men."
"What white men? No forest runners dare range these woods at such a time as this. Do you mean a scalping party of Butler's men?"
"Maybe."
We had been walking swiftly while we spoke together in low and guarded tones; now I
The presence of that canoe worried me, nor could I find any explanation for it. None of our surveyors was out--no scouts had gone in that direction. Of course I knew that we were likely to run across scouts or scalping parties of the enemy almost anywhere between the outlet to Otsego Lake and Tioga Point, yet somehow had not expected to encounter them until we had at least reached the Ouleout.
Another thing; if this phantom canoe was now within an hour of us, and going with the current, it must at one time have been very, very close to us--in fact, just ahead and within sight of the Wyandotte, if, indeed, it had not come silently downstream from behind us and shot past us in plain view of the Black-Snake.
Was the Wyandotte a traitor? For only he could have seen this. And I own that I felt more comfortable having him on our right flank in the forest, and away from the river; and as I notched my trees I kept him in view, sideways, and pondered an the little that I knew of him, but came to no conclusion. For of all things in the world I know less of treachery and its wiles than of any other stratagem; and so utterly do I misunderstand it, and so profound is my horror of it, that I never can credit it to anybody until I see them hanged by the neck for it or shot in hollow square, a-sitting upon their coffins.
Presently I saw the Sagamore stop and make signs to me that the ford was in sight. Immediately I signalled the Wyandotte and the farther Oneida to close in; and a few moments later we were gathered in the forest shadow above the river, lying on our bellies and gazing far down stream at the distant line of ripples running blood-red under the sunset light.
Was there an ambush there, prepared for us? G.o.d knew. Yet, we must approach and examine that ford, and pa.s.s it, too, and resume our march on the right bank of the river to avoid the hemlock swamps and rocky hills ahead, which no wagons or artillery could hope to pa.s.s.
My first and naturally cautious thought was to creep nearer and then send the Wyandotte out under cover of our cl.u.s.tered rifles. But if he were truly in any collusion with an unseen enemy they would never fire on him, and so it would be useless to despatch him on such a mission.
"Wait for the moon," said the Sagamore very quietly.
His low, melodious voice startled me from my thoughts, and I looked around at him inquiringly.
"I will go," said the Wyandotte, smiling.
"One man will never draw fire from an ambush," said the Grey-Feather cunningly. "The wild drake swims first into the net; the flock follows."
"Why does my younger brother of the Oneida believe that we need fear any ambush at yonder ford?" asked the Wyandotte so frankly that again I felt that I could credit no ill of any man who spoke so fairly.
"Listen to the crows," returned the Oneida. "Their evening call to council is long and deliberate--Kaah! Kaah! Kaah--h! What are they saying now, Black-Snake, my elder brother?"
I glanced at the Mohican in startled silence, for we all were listening very intently to the distant crows.
"They have discovered an owl, perhaps," said the Wyandotte, smiling, "and are tormenting him."
"Or a Mountain Snake," said the Sagamore blandly.
Now, what the Sagamore said so innocently had two meanings. He might have meant that the cawing of the crows indicated that they were objecting to a rattlesnake sunning on some rock. Also he might have meant to say that their short, querulous cawing betrayed the presence of Seneca Indians in ambush.
"Or a Mountain Snake," repeated the Siwanois, with a perfectly blank face. "The red door of the West is still open."
"Or a bear," said the Grey-Feather, cunningly slurring the Canienga word and swallowing the last syllable so that it might possibly have meant "Mohawk."
The Wyandotte turned good-humouredly to the Mohican, not pretending to misunderstand this subtle double entendre and play upon words.