CHAPTER II
THE BIRCH-BARK MESSAGE
WHEN Bob Armstrong parted from his brother he quickened his steps. Thenext trap was not very far away; but, as he had just said, he did notlike the looks of the cloudy sky, and began to fear that, after all,the break in the heavy rainy spell was going to prove of but shortduration.
He knew that the little mother in that cabin on the other side of theswollen water would be worried about her boys, and Bob disliked to giveher any more reason for anxiety than could be helped.
As he walked along he thought of what Sandy had said about hisdetermination, sooner or later, to follow the river down past FortWashington, and far away to where it united with the greatest ofwatercourses, the mighty Mississippi. Bob, himself, was not soindifferent to the beckoning finger of adventure as his words to hisbrother might lead one to believe. He, too, had listened to thosemarvelous stories told by trappers and traders, and, when twice aflatboat had landed at their rude little float, giving the settlers achance to talk with the bold souls who were bent on risking the unknowndangers that lay beyond, Bob had hung upon the adventurers' words,and had longed to join the party as it continued its voyage down theOhio into the unknown land. He had, however, always thrust aside thethought, feeling that neither he nor Sandy ought to think of leavingthe father, mother and sister Kate, who made up the Armstrong household.
As he approached the spot where the trap lay, Bob once more became thetrapper, and forgot all else. He saw that success had come to them, forthere was certainly some animal in the trap.
It had been set in a certain little gully, where the boys haddiscovered the tracks of several mink, together with their holes. Thetiny stream that had trickled through this same gully in the precedingfall, was now a rushing torrent, and the trap had lately been set highup on the bank, just in front of a particularly inviting opening, wheremany tracks told of its being a favorite haunt for the wandering malesof the furry tribe he hunted.
Yes, it was a mink he had captured, and really the largest and finestof the whole winter's catch. Bob felt pleased to make this discovery,for every pelt which they could gather meant more comforts in theArmstrong home.
The mink seemed unusually fierce, and put up a savage fight when Bobstarted to dispose of him; but the young trapper would not be denied,and he quickly put an end to the animal's sufferings.
As a usual thing the traps for mink and muskrats were set in suchfashion that, after being caught, the animals would jump into thewater, and be drowned by the weight of the trap; so that it was seldomthey found one alive that had to be disposed of in this manner.
Having reset the trap, Bob sat down to wait for the coming of Sandy,and, while sitting there, he drew something out of an inner pocket ofhis hunting tunic, which he examined with considerable interest, aswell as with many shakes of the head, that told of bewilderment.
The object was a soft and pliable piece of clean birch bark, upon thebrown side of which were traced several rude drawings, such as a childmight make. This had been done with some sharp instrument, possibly thepoint of a knife.
Bob Armstrong knew well that these crude figures of men, campfires,streams and trails were not intended to express the idle whim of somewhite child, beginning to draw the things he saw around him.
Bob had looked upon Indian picture-writing before now; indeed, a youngShawanee brave, named Blue Jacket, whose life he had once saved, andwhose friendship the brothers prized very much, had shown them how toread these symbols, by means of which the red men communicated aftertheir own fashion, just as the palefaces did by putting all those queerlittle signs in a line, and calling it writing.
This was the second time that Bob had found a birch-bark letter leftmysteriously at the cabin. No one knew whence they came; but, when thecharacters were deciphered, on each occasion it was found that some onewas warning them against danger that hovered over their heads.
On the first occasion, they read that two white men were hangingaround near the settlement, and meant to do the Armstrong family harm.The careful mother's first thought was of Kate, her only daughter, apretty girl, who had already been once carried away by a young chiefof the Delawares, and rescued only after much trouble by her brothers,assisted by Simon Kenton and several of the young woodranger's comrades.
That very night there had come the alarm of fire, with the greedyflames doing their best to devour the cabin where David Armstrong andhis little brood lived. Only through the most valiant labor was thefire conquered before it could do much harm. And, now, Bob had founda second strange warning under the door of the cabin, on that verymorning, he being the first to arise.
He traced each symbol with his finger as he sat there and mused. Therewere the same two men again, whom he believed must stand for the uglyFrench trappers, because they wore hats, which no Indian ever was knownto do; and their feet "toed-out," which was another sure sign. Inaddition, he could make out the cabins of the settlers, and the twobent figures appeared to be creeping toward them.
Of course, word of the message had been carried to all the other men inthe community, and doubtless there would be a strict watch kept thatcoming night. If Jacques Larue and his companion, Henri Lacroix, werediscovered approaching the settlement, other than erect on their feet,the chances were that they would be given a very warm reception.
But Bob was not puzzling his head just now about what the symbolsmeant. He had had little difficulty in understanding that some oneintended to warn them against the attacks of their old-time enemies.The question that gave both Bob and Sandy cause for speculation was theidentity of the friend from whom these two birch-bark warnings came.
It was not Blue Jacket, Bob knew. He had seen the young Shawanee bravedraw similar figures, and they were slightly different from those nowin front of him; even as one person's handwriting looks unlike that ofanother. And yet Bob felt positive that the work must have been done byan Indian.
The mystery piqued his curiosity greatly. He and Sandy had tried toreason it out, and discover the identity of this unknown and unseenfriend among the red men; but up to now they had not met with anysuccess.
After looking at the little strip of bark for a minute, Bob shookhis head, as though once more compelled to abandon the solution ofthe puzzle; and, allowing it to roll up again of its own accord, hereplaced the message in his pocket.
"I'd give a lot to know who sent those two messages," he muttered, ashe started to take the skin off the mink, not wishing to carry any moreburden than seemed necessary, if they were to continue along the lineof traps. "But, anyway, it's nice to feel that we've got a good friendamong the Indians, who takes delight in upsetting the plans of thosetwo precious rascals. Some day he may see fit to make himself known tous. But, I wonder what keeps Sandy. He surely ought to be here by now,for he had plenty of time to get to that trap, and fix it fresh, if itwas sprung. I hope nothing has happened to him."
He looked eagerly along the back trail, but failed to see any signof the approaching figure of his younger brother. The afternoon wasmore than three-quarters past, and in another hour they could expectdarkness to swoop down upon the land.
Bob noted this fact when he again looked up toward the darkeningheavens.
"We will have to leave the rest of the traps until another day," hesaid to himself, uneasily. "I promised mother that I would not takeany more chances than necessary, and she did not seem any too wellsatisfied about our crossing to-day, as it was. But, how queer Sandydoes not come! Perhaps I'd better start back after him."
Once this idea had taken root in his mind, Bob could not remain atease. He arose to his feet, took the mink in one hand, with his rifleclutched in the other, and started off.
Hardly had he taken ten steps when he heard a call. It was certainlyhis own name, and coupled with a word that sent a thrill through him.
"Bob! oh! Bob! Help!"
Instantly the boy dropped the mink, utterly unmindful of the value ofthe fine pelt. He started off at a swift pace, heading in the d
irectionwhence the shout came.
If Sandy was in danger, then it must be some of those hateful Frenchtrappers again. Bob could remember how they had first met them, andthere were three at that time. A fine deer had fallen before the gun ofone of the brothers, and, upon rushing forward to bleed the prize, theyfound themselves confronted by a trio of burly men whose appearancetold the lads that they were French trappers, even before they provedthis fact by their speech.
These fellows had claimed that they shot the deer, and there wastrouble in prospect that might have ended seriously, but for thefortunate coming of Kenton and two companions, who proved the right ofthe boys to the spoils, and sent the Frenchmen away, with a warning notto look back or they would rue it.
Quickly Bob covered the ground. All the while he had his gun readyfor use in case of necessity. Now he could see Sandy, and, when hediscovered the other on hands and knees, great was his wonder, until heheard him cry out:
"Take care, Bob, there's a big panther in the brush close by, and benton jumping on you! My foot's fast in the trap, and I can't get free. Goslow, and be ready to shoot, for he's savage with hunger, and as fierceas they make them. Look out! there he comes now!"