At War with Pontiac | Page 2

smiling fields. A young
orchard was in sturdy growth, a small herd of cattle found ample
pasturage on the borders of the lake, and on all sides were evidences of
thrift and plenty.
The military instinct of the proprietor caused all forest growth to be
cleared from a broad space entirely around the rude fortress that held
his life's treasures; but within the enclosure he left standing two superb
oaks. These not only afforded a grateful shade, but gave a distinctive
feature to the place that was quickly recognized by the surrounding
Indians. Thus they always spoke of it as the house of the two trees, or
two-tree house, a name that soon became "Tawtry House," under which
designation it was known from the unsalted seas to the tide waters of
the distant Shattemuc.
Tawtry House not only offered a ready welcome and bountiful
hospitality to the occasional hunter, trader, or traveller tempted by
business or curiosity into that wild region, but to the Indians who still
roamed the forest at will and had established one of their villages at no
great distance from it. With these, by the exercise of extreme firmness
and an inflexible honesty, Major Hester succeeded in maintaining
friendly relations, in spite of their jealousy of his presence among them.
At the same time, his wife, through her gentleness and ready sympathy
in their times of sickness or distress, gained their deep-seated affection.
Although the Iroquois were thus at peace with their English neighbors,
there was a bitter enmity between them and the French settlers of
Canada, who had espoused the cause of their hereditary foes, the tribes

dwelling along the St. Lawrence and on both shores of the great
fresh-water lakes. Most prominent of these were the Ottawas, Hurons
or Wyandots, Ojibwas and Pottawattamies, who were allied in a
defensive league against their powerful enemies. Their ancient hatred
of the Iroquois, animated by the traditions of generations, was ever
fanned into a blaze by Jesuit priests eager for the triumph of their faith,
French traders anxious to monopolize the immensely profitable fur
business of the new world, and French soldiers determined at any cost
to extend the empire of their king. Thus, on one pretext or another, war
parties were constantly coming and going, destroying or being
destroyed, and it well behooved the adventurous frontier settler to
intrench himself strongly behind massive timbers and stout palisades.
Under these conditions and amid such scenes, in the year 1743, when
Tawtry House was still sweet-scented with odors of the forest from
which it had been so recently hewn, was born Donald Hester, as sturdy
a young American as ever kicked in swaddling clothes, and the hero of
this tale of the forest.
On the midsummer evening with which our story opens, Major Hester
and his wife walked, hand in hand, beyond the palisades of their
fortress home, enjoying the marvellous beauty of their surroundings
and talking of many things. Already had this wilderness home become
very dear to them; for, representing years of toil and privation as it did,
it was their very own and the heritage of their boy, now two years of
age, who toddled behind them in charge of a ruddy-cheeked Scotch
nurse. While they rejoiced over what had been accomplished, they
planned for the future, and discussed the details of many projected
improvements. At the outlet of the lake a grist-mill should be built, and
the low lands beyond should be drained to afford increased pasturage
for their multiplying herd.
As they talked there came a sound from the forest depths that caused
them to pause and listen. Borne faintly on the evening breeze, was a
distant firing of guns, and they fancied that it was accompanied by a
confusion of yells from human throats.
"Oh, Graham! what can it mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Hester, as she

clasped her husband's arm and glanced instinctively back, to make sure
of the safety of her child.
"Nothing that need alarm you, my dear," answered the major,
reassuringly. "It is only a token of some jollification among our Indian
friends: a war dance, or a scalp dance, or the advent among them of a
new lot of wretched captives, or something of that kind. I remember
Truman mentioning, more than a week ago, that another war party had
gone out. I do wish though that the Senecas would take it into their
heads to move their village farther away. I used to think five miles
quite a respectable distance, but now--"
"I would that this horrible fighting were ended," interrupted Mrs.
Hester. "Will not the time ever come, Graham, when these poor
heathen will cease from their dreadful wars, and live at peace with each
other, like civilized beings?"
"Like civilized beings, my dear?" laughed Major Hester. "Yes, I