Part 24 (1/2)
CHAPTER XI
THE IROQUOIS
Even as Sir Arthur and John Law clasped hands, there came a sudden interruption. A half-score yards deeper in the wood there arose a sudden, half-choked cry, followed by a shrill whoop. There was a cras.h.i.+ng as of one running, and immediately there pressed into the open s.p.a.ce the figure of an Indian, an old man from the village of the Illini. Even as his staggering footsteps brought him within gaze, the two startled observers saw the shaft which had sunk deep within his breast. He had been shot through by an Indian arrow, and upon the instant it was all too plain whose hand had sped the shaft. Following close upon his heels there came a stalwart savage, whose face, hideously painted, appeared fairly demoniacal as he came bounding on with uplifted hatchet, seeking to strike down the victim already impaled by the silent arrow.
”Quick!” cried Law, in a flash catching the meaning of this sudden spectacle. ”Into the fort, Sir Arthur, and call the men together!”
Not stopping to relieve the struggles of the victim, who had now fallen forward gasping, Law sprang on with drawn blade to meet the advancing savage. The latter paused for an uncertain moment, and then with a shrill yell of defiance, hurled the keen steel hatchet full at Law's head. It sh.o.r.e away a piece of his hat brim, and sank with edge deep buried in the trunk of a tree beyond. The savage turned, but turned too late. The blade of the swordsman pa.s.sed through from rib to rib under his arm, and he fell choking, even as he sought again to give vent to his war-cry.
And now there arose in the woods beyond, and in the fields below the hill, and from the villages of the neighboring Indians, a series of sharp, ululating yells. Shots came from within the fortress, where the loop-holes were already manned. There were borne from the nearest wigwams of the Illini the screams of wounded men, the shrieks of terrified women. In an instant the peaceful spot had become the scene of a horrible confusion. Once more the wolves of the woods, the Iroquois, had fallen on their prey!
Swift as had been Law's movements, Pembroke was but a pace behind him as he wrenched free his blade. The two turned back together and started at speed for the palisade. At the gate they met others hurrying in, Pembroke's men joining in the rush of the frightened villagers. Among these the Iroquois pressed with shrill yells, plying knife and bow and hatchet as they ran, and the horrified eyes of those within the palisade saw many a tragedy enacted.
”Watch the gate!” cried Pierre Noir, from his station in the corner tower. As he spoke there came a rush of screaming Iroquois, who sought to gain the entrance.
”Now!” cried Pierre Noir, discharging his piece into the crowded ranks below him; and shot after shot followed his own. The packed brown ma.s.s gave back and resolved itself into scattered units, who broke and ran for the nearest cover.
”They will not come on again until dark,” said Pierre Noir, calmly leaning his piece against the wall. ”Therefore I may attend to certain little matters.”
He pa.s.sed out into the entry-way, where lay the bodies of three Iroquois, abandoned, under the close and deadly fire, by their companions where they had fallen. When Pierre Noir returned and calmly propped up again the door of slabs which he had removed, he carried in his hand three tufts of long black hair, from which dripped heavy gouts of blood.
”Good G.o.d, man!” said Pembroke. ”You must not be savage as these Indians!”
”Speak for yourself, Monsieur Anglais,” replied Pierre, stoutly. ”You need not save these head pieces if you do not care for them. For myself, 'tis part of the trade.”
”a.s.suredly,” broke in Jean Breboeuf. ”We keep these trinkets, we _voyageurs_ of the French. Make no doubt that Jean Breboeuf will take back with him full tale of the Indians he has killed. Presently I go out. Zip! goes my knife, and off comes the topknot of Monsieur Indian, him I killed but now as he ran. Then I shall dry the scalp here by the fire, and mount it on a bit of willow, and take it back for a present to my sweetheart, Susanne d.u.c.h.ene, on the seignieury at home.”
”Bravo, Jean!” cried out the old Indian fighter, Pierre Noir, the old baresark rage of the fighting man now rising hot in his blood. ”And look! Here come more chances for our little ornaments.”
Pierre Noir for once had been mistaken and underestimated the courage of the warriors of the Onondagos. Las.h.i.+ng themselves to fury at the thought of their losses, they came on again, now banding and charging in the open close up to the walls of the palisade. Again the little party of whites maintained a steady fire, and again the Iroquois, baffled and enraged, fell back into the wood, whence they poured volley after volley rattling against the walls of the st.u.r.dy fortress.
”I am sorry, sir,” said Sergeant Gray to Pembroke, ”but 'tis all up with me.” The poor fellow staggered against the wall, and in a few moments all was indeed over with him. A chance shot had pierced his chest.
”_Peste_! If this keeps up,” said Pierre Noir, ”there will not be many of us left by morning. I never saw them fight so well. 'Tis a good watch we'll need this night.”
In fact, all through the night the Iroquois tried every stratagem of their savage warfare. With ear-splitting yells they came close up to the stockade, and in one such charge two or three of their young men even managed to climb to the tops of the pointed stakes, though but to meet their death at the muzzles of the muskets within. Then there arose curving lines of fire from without the walls, half circles which terminated at last in little jarring thuds, where blazing arrows fell and stood in log, or earth, or unprotected roof. These projectiles, wrapped with lighted birch bark, served as fire brands, and danger enough they carried. Yet, after some fas.h.i.+on, the little garrison kept down these incipient blazes, held together the terrified Illini, repulsed each repeated charge of the Iroquois, and so at last wore through the long and fearful night.
The sun was just rising across the tops of the distant groves when the Iroquois made their next advance. It came not in the form of a concerted attack, but of an appeal for peace. A party of the savages left their cover and approached the fortress, waving their hands above their heads.
One of them presently advanced alone.
”What is it, Pierre?” asked Law. ”What does the fellow want?”
”I care not what he wants,” said Pierre Noir, carefully adjusting the lock of his piece and steadily regarding the savage as he approached; ”but I'll wager you a year's pay he never gets alive past yonder stump.”
”Stay!” cried Pembroke, catching at the barrel of the leveled gun. ”I believe he would talk with us.”
”What does he say, Pierre?” asked Law. ”Speak to him, if you can.”