True to the Old Flag (Historical Novels - American Cycle). G. A. Henty

how there's a score of canoes with your people in them scouting ahead."

      "I heard canoe," another voice said, "first at other end of the island and then coming along here."

      "And ef yer did," the first speaker said, "likely enough it was one of the canoes of your people."

      "No," the Indian answered. "If canoe come back with news, would have come straight to fires."

      "Well, it aint here, anyway," the first speaker said, "and I don't believe yer ever heard a canoe at all. It's enough to make a man swear to be called up jest as we were making ourselves comfortable for the night on account of an Injun's fancies. I wonder at the general's listening to them. However, we've got our orders to go round the island and see ef there's any canoe on either shore; so we'd better be moving, else we shall not get to sleep before morning."

      Harold held his breath as the group passed opposite to him. Fortunately the trunk of the tree grew from the very edge of the water, and there were several bushes growing round it, so that at this point the men had to make a slight détour inland. Harold felt thankful indeed that he had taken the precaution of laying his canoe among the thick foliage, for although the night was dark it would have been instantly seen had it been lying on the surface of the lake. Even as it was, a close inspection might have detected it, but the eyes of the party were fixed on the shore, as it was there, if at all, that they expected to find an empty canoe lying.

      Harold was uneasy at the discovery that there were still some redskins on the island. It was possible, of course, that the one he had heard might be alone as a scout, but it was more likely that others of the tribe were also there.

      After landing, Peter and the Seneca made their way across the island to the side facing the American shore. Creeping cautiously along, they found a large number of flat-bottomed boats, in which the Americans had crossed from the mainland, and which were, Peter thought, capable of carrying 2000 men. They now made their way toward the spot where the forces were encamped. The fires had burned low, but round a few of them men were still sitting and talking. Motioning to the Seneca to remain quiet, Peter sauntered cautiously out on to the clearing where the camp was formed. He had little fear of detection, for he wore no uniform, and his hunter's dress afforded no index to the party to which he was attached.

      A great portion of the Americans were still in their ordinary attire, it having been impossible to furnish uniforms for so great a number of men as had been suddenly called to arms throughout the colonies.

      From the arbors of boughs which had been erected in all directions, he judged that the force had been already some days upon the island. But large numbers of men were sleeping in the open air, and picking his way cautiously among them, he threw himself down at a short distance from one of the fires by which three or four men were sitting.

      For some time they talked of camp matters, the shortness of food, and want of provisions.

      "It is bad here," one said presently; "it will be worse when we move forward. Schuyler will be here tomorrow with the rest of the army, and we are to move down to Isle-aux-Noix, at the end of the lake, and I suppose we shall land at once and march against St. John's. There are only a couple of hundred Britishers there, and we shall make short work of them."

      "The sooner the better, I say," another speaker remarked. "I am ready enough to fight, but I hate all this waiting about. I want to get back to my farm again."

      "You are in a hurry, you are," the other said. "You don't suppose we are going to take Canada in a week's time, do you. Even if the Canadians join us, and by what I hear that aint so sartin after all, we shall have to march down to Quebec, and that's no child's play. I know the country there. It is now September 4. Another month and the winter will be upon us, and a Canadian winter is no joke, I can tell you."

      "The more reason for not wasting any more time," the other one grumbled. "If Montgomery had his way we should go at them quickly enough, but Schuyler is always delaying. He has kept us waiting now since the 17th of last month. We might have been halfway to Quebec by this time."

      "Yes," the other said, "if the Britishers had run away as we came; but we have got St. John's and Fort Chamblée to deal with, and they may hold out some time. However, the sooner we begin the job the sooner it will be over, and I am heartily glad that we move tomorrow."

      Peter had now obtained the information he required, and rising to his feet again, with a grumbling remark as to the hardness of the ground, he sauntered away toward the spot where he had left the Indian. Just as he did so a tall figure came out from an arbor close by. A fire was burning just in front, and Peter saw that he was a tall and handsome man of about forty years of age. He guessed at once that he was in the presence of the colonial leader.

      "You are, like myself," the newcomer said, "unable to sleep, I suppose?"

      "Yes, general," Peter answered. "I found I could not get off, and so I thought I'd stretch my legs in the wood a bit. They're lying so tarnal thick down there by the fires, one can't move without treading on 'em."

      "Which regiment do you belong to?"

      "The Connecticut," Peter replied, for he knew by report that a regiment from this province formed part of the expedition.

      "As good men as any I have," the general said cordially. "Their only fault is that they are in too great a hurry to attack the enemy."

      "I agree with the rest, general," Peter said. "It's dull work wasting our time here when we're wanted at home. I enlisted for six months, and the sooner the time's up the better, say I."

      "You have heard nothing moving?" the general asked. "One of the Chippewas told me that he heard a canoe out in the lake. Ah! here he is."

      At that moment five or six men, headed by an Indian, issued from the wood close by. It was too late for Peter to try to withdraw, but he stepped aside a pace or two as the party approached.

      "Well, have you found anything?" the general asked.

      "No find," the Chippewa said shortly.

      "I don't believe as there ever was a canoe there," the man who followed him said. "It was jest a fancy of the Injun's."

      "No fancy," the Indian asserted angrily. "Canoe there. No find."

      "It might have been one of our own canoes," Montgomery said in a conciliatory tone. "The Indians are seldom mistaken. Still, if no one has landed it matters not either way."

      "Only as we have had a tramp for nothing," the colonist said. "However, there's time for a sleep yet. Hullo!" he exclaimed as his eye fell on Peter Lambton. "What, Peter! Why, how did you get here? Why, I thought as how——General," he exclaimed, sharply turning to Montgomery, "this man lives close to me at Concord. He's a royalist, he is, and went into Boston and joined the corps they got up there!"

      "Seize him!" Montgomery shouted, but it was too late.

      As the man had turned to speak to the general, Peter darted into the wood. The Chippewa, without waiting to hear the statement of the colonist, at once divined the state of things, and uttering his war-whoop dashed after the fugitive. Two or three of the colonists instantly followed, and a moment later three or four Indians who had been lying on the ground leaped up and darted like phantoms into the wood.

      The general no sooner grasped the facts than he shouted an order for pursuit, and a number of the men most accustomed to frontier work at once followed the first party of pursuers. Others would have done the same, but Montgomery shouted that no more should go, as they would only be in the others' way, and there could not be more than two or three spies on the island.

      After the Chippewa's first war-cry there was silence for the space of a minute in the forest. Then came a wild scream, mingled with another Indian yell; a moment later the leading pursuers came upon the body of the Chippewa. His skull had been cleft with a tomahawk and the scalp was gone.

      As they were clustered round the body two or three of the Indians ran up. They raised the Indian wail as they saw their comrade and with the rest took up the pursuit.

      Peter and the Seneca were now far among the trees,