On the Trail of Pontiac | Page 2

NEW TRADING-POST
XIV. JEAN BEVOIR HAS HIS SAY
XV. DAVE'S UNWELCOME VISITOR
XVI. DAVE MEETS PONTIAC
XVII. THE ATTACK ON THE PACK-TRAIN
XVIII. AFTER THE ENCOUNTER
XIX. THE TRAIL THROUGH THE FOREST
XX. GUARDING THE TRADING-POST
XXI. SAM BARRINGFORD BRINGS NEWS
XXII. THE ROCK BY THE RIVER
XXIII. DAVE AND THE FAWN
XXIV. SOMETHING ABOUT SLAVES AND INDIAN CAPTIVES
XXV. THE RESULTS OF A BUFFALO HUNT
XXVI. STRANGE INDIAN MAGIC
XXVII. THE TRAIL OF PONTIAC
XXVIII. AN UNDERGROUND STOREHOUSE
XXIX. PONTIAC'S TRAIL ONCE MORE
XXX. IN THE CAMP OF THE ENEMY
XXXI. HELD AS A SPY
XXXII. A FIGHT AND A VICTORY--CONCLUSION

ILLUSTRATIONS
The dance of the magicians lasted fully a quarter of an hour
(Frontispiece)
The report was followed by a mad yelp of pain
Henry ... rolled over and over down a long hill
"Let go!" cried Dave. "Let go, I say!"
"Where are your furs?" asked James Morris
He let the animal have a bullet directly in the head
"Tis one of the English" said the taller of the Indians
"The white young man is sorry to be a prisoner," he said slowly
CHAPTER I
A GLIMPSE AT THE PAST
"Two wild turkeys and seven rabbits. Not such a bad haul after all,
Henry."
"That is true, Dave. But somehow I wanted to get a deer if I could."
"Oh, I reckon almost any hunter would like to bring down a deer," went
on Dave Morris. "But they are not so plentiful as they were before the
war."
"That is true." Henry Morris placed the last rabbit he had brought down
in his game-bag. "I can remember the time when the deer would come
up to within a hundred yards of the house. But you have got to take a
long tramp to find one now."
"And yet game ought to be plentiful," went on his younger cousin.
"There wasn't much hunting in this vicinity during the war. Nearly

everybody who could go to the front went."
"There were plenty who couldn't be hired to go, you know that as well
as I do. Some were afraid they wouldn't get their pay and others were
afraid the French or the Indians would knock 'em over." Henry Morris
took a deep breath. "Beats me how they could stay home--with the
enemy doing their best to wipe us out."
"I can't understand it either. But now the war is over, do you think we'll
have any more trouble with the Indians?" continued Dave Morris, as he
and his cousin started forward through the deep snow that lay in the
woods which had been their hunting ground for the best part of the day.
"It's really hard to tell, Dave. Father thinks we'll have no more trouble,
but Sam Barringford says we won't have real peace until the redskins
have had one whipping they won't forget as long as they live."
"Well, Sam knows the Indians pretty thoroughly."
"No one knows them better. And why shouldn't he know 'em? He's
been among them since he was a small boy, and he must be fifty now if
he's a day."
"I can tell you one thing, Henry," continued Dave warmly. "I was
mighty glad to see Sam recover from that wound he received at Quebec.
At first I thought he would either die or be crazy for the rest of his life."
"It's his iron constitution that pulled him through. Many another soldier
would have caved in clean and clear. But hurry up, if you want to get
home before dark," and so speaking, Henry Morris set off through the
woods at a faster pace than ever, with his cousin close at his heels.
Each carried his game-bag on his back and a flint-lock musket over his
shoulder.
The time was early in the year 1761, but a few months after the fall of
Montreal had brought the war between France and England in America
to a close. Canada was now in the possession of the British, and the
settlers in our colonies along the great Atlantic seacoast, and on the

frontier westward, were looking for a long spell of peace in which they
might regain that which had been lost, or establish themselves in new
localities which promised well.
As already mentioned, Dave and Henry Morris were cousins, Henry
being the older by several years. They lived in the little settlement of
Will's Creek, Virginia, close to where the town of Cumberland stands
to-day. The Morris household consisted of Dave's father, Mr. James
Morris, who was a widower, and Mr. Joseph Morris, his wife Lucy, and
their children, Rodney, several years older than Henry, who came next,
and Nell, a girl of about six, who was the household pet. In years gone
by Rodney had been a good deal of a cripple, but