as that of New York or of London, and when the banks of the Hudson and the Mohawk and the country adjacent are comparatively thickly populated, it is hard to believe that a party of trappers could be in danger of attack. But in the year 1756 it was very different. Thick forest spread over the land, with very few settlements, and still fewer log huts. In time past many and many a pioneer and trapper had forced his way far on into the valley of the Ohio, that promised land, and had there erected his rough shelter. But there were competitors in the field. France was not content with that huge stretch of America to the north of the St. Lawrence and the great lakes. She was pushing south, building forts and peopling the land. For some years, as the reader will have already gathered, these hardy French soldiers and voyageurs, with their fierce Indians, had been pressing south and west, exterminating the helpless British colonists. The man who dared to step outside the towns and plunge into the forests took his life in his hands. Bands of desperadoes wandered hither and thither, and the old calling of the trapper was almost extinct. It was therefore not so wonderful to find danger threatening Steve and his friends on the very outskirts of Albany.
"Oi'd loike to hear what Silver Fox and Talkin' Bear has to say," sang out Mac, thrusting his red head into the full light of the fire. "They have sat there loike two logs of wood, and sure they've not yit opened their mouths. Let thim spake and we'll listen."
"Then what shall we do, Fox?" demanded Jim, breaking into the Mohawk. "You know what's happening."
"It will rain to-night, my brothers," was the answer, "and we must go. But this scout must die before we venture from the camp. Talking Bear and Silver Fox will see to this matter."
He glanced round at each one of the party, grunted and nodded to his countryman.
"It is well spoken, brother. He must die," was the short answer.
"Then we'll turn in," said Jim.
One by one the white men of the party stood up, looked about them and then crept into the "shanty," for rain had already begun to fall. And soon Silver Fox joined them, while outside, swathed in his blanket, motionless, stood Talking Bear, guarding the camp during the first hours of the night. His figure was hardly distinguishable even against the dull light of the fire, but all knew that the Indian watcher had his eyes on him. And so two hours passed, till the embers were drenched, and the night was very dark. Not till then was there a movement in the tiny shanty. Steve sat up beside Silver Fox, returned the pressure of his hand and slipped from the cover. Crawling across the camp he touched Talking Bear, and in an instant they had changed places. Steve was now the sentry, swathed in a blanket, tall and erect. Almost at the same instant there was the hoot of an owl away in the forest.
"Them 'ere critters has jest the finest eyes," growled Jim. "Reckon though that they heard somethin'. There goes Silver Fox. We'll give him an hour."
But less than half an hour had passed before the silence of their camp was disturbed. First came the loud hoot of an owl, and then away in the forest was heard the sound of a conflict. Branches snapped, there was a dull thud, and then silence again.
"We have failed. The scalp of this scout who watched the camp hangs at my belt, but he had two others with him. They are gone."
Silver Fox had made not so much as a sound on his return, and his voice was the first thing that warned the occupants of his presence. They sat up with a start while various exclamations burst from them.
"There is not a moment to be lost," said Tom, with decision. "We must pack and paddle for our lives. That band will never rest till they have the scalps of every one of this party."
There was unusual bustle in the camp at once, the members of the party going about their work with method and in perfect silence. Mac and Steve soon had the leather shelter stripped and folded, and by the time they had carried it down to the canoes, the others had placed all their goods in the smaller one. Then they took their places, and at a word from Tom they pushed out from the bank, Steve sitting in the second canoe, his musket across his thighs and his eyes glued on the bank. The five in the leading canoe grasped their paddles and used them with a will, Tom setting the time, and pushing the water back with lusty arms which aided not a little in their progress. They swung up the centre of the stream, turned to their left and entered the Mohawk. Morning found them many miles on their way, still paddling steadily up the centre of the river.
"It were well to consider, my brothers," said Silver Fox, speaking for the first time since they had left Albany. "The sky is clearer, and the rain no longer falls. At present the mist hides us, but in a little while the warmth will suck it up and then we shall be seen."
"And yer think them critters is after us?" demanded Jim.
"They left their camp within the hour of our departure," was the slow answer. "They are now well on their way."
Jim had had no need to ask that simple question. As an old and experienced trapper he knew well enough that the alarm must have reached the camp of the enemy within a very little while of their own departure, and it needed no consideration to tell him that they would make up the Mohawk river.
"They kin tell as we ain't got no business towards New York," he growled, "and this here route air the only one that's left. Reckon the varmint air well on the road. They'll have canoes hid somewhere's within reach, and it won't be long afore they're out on the river. Boys, we've got to choose between holdin' on to those paddles or takin' to the woods."
"Lose all our stores!" demanded Mac, indignantly. "Sure if we take to the forest we'll have to lave these canoes and the things, and for what is the use of that? Arrah! Lit's kape to the paddles, and if they follow we'll use our guns."
"You forget one thing," said Tom Mainwaring, in his quiet and judicial tones. "We have paddled through the night. These rascals have been walking and running. Their arms will be unwearied. They will certainly overhaul us. There is nothing for it, I fear, but to strike across to the south bank, hide our canoes and stores as well as we are able, and then take to the trail."
There was, indeed, little else to be suggested, and it was with sad hearts therefore that the little party turned the bows of the canoe towards the far bank. It was lighter now, though the mist still hid them, an occasional gust of wind blowing a portion of it away, for all the world as if it were a curtain, and disclosing something of their whereabouts, the surface of the silent river, the far bank, or the forest on that side for which they were making.
"Steady a minute. Stop!"
It was Steve's voice which broke the silence, and as they craned their necks to look back at him, they saw the long figure of the young trapper stretched in the small canoe, his musket still across his thighs and one hand upon it. The other shaded his eyes, as if the mist worried him.
"Stop!" he called again in the lowest tone. "Wait while I come up with you."
There was a paddle beside him, placed there to enable him to steer if occasion should make that necessary, and while his friends backed water, he drove his paddle into the river and swung his canoe round till it lay alongside the other. To have endeavoured to bring it up directly would have been useless, for a short tow rope connected the two.
"You said that they would have canoes somewhere within reach," he said. "I overheard it, and I believe I have seen the very spot. The wind blew the mist aside suddenly, and I saw a tiny inlet. It is blocked with weeds and osiers, and they too were disturbed by the wind. I am sure that I got a glimpse of the bow of a canoe."
"Jupiter! That's a find," burst out Jim, while Tom and Mac nodded approvingly. "Reckon we'll git across to them boats and break 'em up. Boys, that air our ticket."
He plunged his paddle into the water, followed by the others, and would have swung
