"Does Sir George want to know how the English were beaten, and driven back, and the Indian Prince and his men slain?" Big Thunder asked with flashing eyes.

"Yes," said Sir George. "The story must be a sad one. The English soldier does not like to hear of being beaten, but if true it is better for him to know it."

"And tell you about Tec.u.mseh, and how Tec.u.mseh fell?"

"Yes. Tell it all."

For some moments the Indian pulled vigorously at his pipe, and the men around the fire could hear his heavy breathing, as he drew in the fumes of the tobacco, and expelled them with every breath through his distended nostrils.

The last rays of the setting sun had disappeared, the wind had ceased, and the air was silent again, save for the croak of the lake frogs and the tw.a.n.g of a whip-poor-will in a neighboring tree. By-and-bye the Indian laid his pipe to one side, and fixing his eye on a bright star in the west far above the horizon, he commenced his story:

"The Ojibways are of the Algonquin race," he said; "a people that roamed, before the white man came, from the rising to the setting sun. I will not tell you of our wars with the Iroquois and Hurons, and with the people of the Great Father--which made the number of our braves less and less, and our women so few that you could count them like ta.s.sels on a little field of corn. But twenty moons ago, war sprang up from a little cloud no bigger than a man's hand; and the people to the south of the lakes dug up the hatchet and hurled it against the white men and the red men of the north. So the Indians in council buried the hatchet among themselves, and chose Tec.u.mseh, the greatest warrior of the six nations, to be their chief, and swore by the Great Spirit, that they would stand side by side with their white brothers. Then it was that Algonquins and Hurons and Iroquois united as they never did before; and with the pale face Britons fought the common foe.

"Tec.u.mseh led three thousand Indians to the fight, while White Chief Proctor led the British. For a while the enemy was driven back, their warriors fell by hundreds, and many of their scalps hung at the belts of Indian braves.

"Then the foe got mad and gathering more men together drove our people back to Amherstburg, where we fought them to the teeth. But the Great Spirit forgot that we were his people--our day turned into night--our victories into mourning. The Great Father's warships melted like snow beneath the sun, and American cannons mowed down our men like gra.s.s."

The Indian was growing excited. He sat erect, with hands gripping the block beneath him, and eyes fixed afar off as if in a vision.

"Did I say the Yankees whipped the English?" he commenced again in hollow tones, forgetful of everything but the graphic outlines of his terrible story. "Yes, but the big white chief was a coward and a squaw, or it would not have happened. Tec.u.mseh said so, and Tec.u.mseh never lied. Nenimkee stood by him when the news came that all the captains and half the men on the lakes were dead, and the ships gone to the bottom.

Then the Great Chief's heart shed drops of blood in anguish, but his eyes were dry, for an Indian never drops a tear.

"For a time the war-whoop was over. White men and red men fled back to the woods. Night and day they tramped through the forest back from the lake and on by the river. But the Yankees were after them, and scorning to die like dogs the Indians turned to meet their foe. Although the coward Proctor forsook him, Tec.u.mseh shouted the war-whoop of the nations, and surrounded by his warriors with their tomahawks, met the hors.e.m.e.n from the south. Man after man did Tec.u.mseh slay. Covered with blood and his body full of bullets he sprang at last upon Chief Johnson, the Yankee foe, and dragged him to the ground. Then he drew his knife to strike him to the heart--but it was too late--he had gone to the spirit land and half his warriors went with him."

"This is horrible!" exclaimed Sir George with a strong effort at self-control, for excitement was depicted upon every face. "I knew nothing of it. Not a word has reached me. But it is terrible to lose so brave a chief as Tec.u.mseh."

"There was no one like Tec.u.mseh," continued Nenimkee in tones like the thrilling blast of distant thunder. "No arm so strong, no eye so true, no heart so soft when his little ones and his Laughing Fawn were with him. His bullet went straight to the bull's eye, and his arrow to the heart of the moose. His tomahawk never wavered, but as lightning from the eagle's eyrie strikes the tepee of the Indian, so his axe cleaved the skulls of his enemies, while his knife spilled their life blood at his feet. Now it is all over, and while the red man's blood cries for vengeance, his heart bleeds for his chief."

"How did you escape when so many were slain around you?" asked the Colonel.

"The sun went down as Tec.u.mseh's war-whoop ended and Nenimkee led his warriors deeper into the woods."

"Did you lose many men?"

"Forty braves went--only twenty came back."

"You did not join the troops again?"

"What use? All is quiet in winter. The Ojibways went straight to their wigwams."

"Do you know how the war goes this year?"

"Only that the fight is toward the rising sun."

"You will bring more news when you return?"

"It will not take many days," said the Indian. "But the woods are thick, the rocks many, and part of the way there is no trail."

"Still you will find the nearest road?"

"Does the crow fly crooked, or the nighthawk backward?" Big Thunder asked, sedately resuming his pipe.

"Nor does the Indian forget his cunning, nor the white man to reward his friend," said the Colonel, gravely. "You are going on the business of the Great Father, and he will expect his red brother of the forest to do his best."

"It is well. We will go quickly, and blaze the trees on the road, so that a fool, though blindfold, could find his way back again."

"Could not a bridle path be made through the woods to carry provisions overland from Little York to Penetang?" suggested the Chaplain.

"A good idea," returned Sir George. "We need them badly enough, and it will not do at present to depend upon securing supplies by water."

"A good trail can be made, but it will take two or three suns longer,"

was Nenimkee's comment.

"We will leave it in your hands, then," said Sir George, rising to close the interview.

"The white chief shall be satisfied." With this, Nenimkee left them, and at sunrise on the following morning he started with his party for Little York.

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

If it had not been for the game shot in the woods and the abundance of ba.s.s and pickerel caught in the bay, provisions would have been scarce at the new fort before summer opened. The heavy stock brought overland during the long march had served them well, but it was drawing near to an end, and all awaited with interest, not to say anxiety, the return of the messengers from York. When they did come, they reported that the trail was open for pack horses, and that supplies already purchased would soon be on the way.

In the meantime progress went on in the little settlement. The soldiers'

quarters were completed and made comfortable; the pile-driving for the prospective bridge was finished, and even the stone walls of the new fort were in progress of erection. In agriculture something had also been done, for Indian corn and potatoes were growing well in the habitants' clearings.

What little they heard of the progress of the war was satisfactory, and during the long, bright evenings, the day's work being done, the stringency of discipline was often relaxed. Then officers and men, with the exception of those on duty, would give themselves up to relaxation and pleasure.

Canoes had been purchased from the Indians, and swimming in the bay, as well as spinning over its waters, soon became of nightly occurrence, and none among the men enjoyed the sport better than Harold. So one evening, when the woods were green, he took Helen for their first long paddle.

Captain c.u.mmings and the Chaplain occupied a second canoe, while Sir George and Captain Payne enjoyed a quiet smoke as they strolled along the sh.o.r.e. The two birch-barks struck out past the northern end of the island and paddled abreast toward the mouth of the harbor. In the west the sun was setting in a golden flame behind the trees, while above them the blue vault was dotted with little grey clouds, fretted with spangles of silver. Scarcely a ripple disturbed the lake. Now and then a white gull flew from side to side, and a sportive pickerel splashed the water as he rose above the surface.

In a little while, Lieutenant Smith and the Doctor joined them, paddling over from the opposite sh.o.r.e. They had been hunting for partridge.

"What success?" called out Harold.

"Only two brace," was the answer.

"Why not come with us for an hour's run?"

"All right," and they dropped to the opposite side of Harold's canoe.

"What a solitary outlook!" said Helen, casting her eye from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e. "Not another boat to be seen, and on land nothing but woods."

"It's a mighty picturesque spot, though," said the Chaplain, who was using his paddle a few yards to the right. "It is like the sea of gla.s.s spoken of in Revelations, reflecting the sky of the Orient."

"Or like the paradise of the houries," cried Captain c.u.mmings, "where the wood nymphs bathe in the lake and bask in the golden sunlight."