The Cryptogram: A Story of Northwest Canada

  CHAPTER XIII.

  THE AMBUSCADE.

  The attack was so sudden and unlooked for, and took us at such adisadvantage, that it was a mercy the half of us were not killed by theenemy's first straggling volley. For on the instant that Gardapie felldead into the river two more shots rang out, and then a third and afourth. A bullet whistled by my ear, and another flew so close toBaptiste that he dropped his paddle and threw himself flat, uttering ashrill "_Nom de Dieu!_" The women screamed, and Lavigne cried outwith a curse that he had a ball in his right arm.

  "Redskins!" I yelled. "Down--down for your lives!"

  The canoe was luckily of a good depth, and we all crouched low andhugged the bottom. The firing had ceased as abruptly as it opened. Not ashot or a yell disturbed the quiet of the woods on either hand, and butfor poor Gardapie's vacant place, and the splash of blood where he hadbeen kneeling, I might have thought that the whole thing was a hideousdream. We drifted on with the current for a moment, while the roar ofthe falls swelled louder. Our loaded muskets were in our grasp, but wedared not expose our heads above the gunwales.

  I looked back toward the stern, and saw Moralle tying a bandage onLavigne's wounded arm. Gummidge was bareheaded, and he told methat a ball had carried his cap into the river.

  "We're not done with the red devils," he added. "It's a bad scrape,Carew. I've no doubt the Indians have been won over by the Northwestpeople, and hostilities have already begun."

  On that point I did not agree with him, but I was unwilling to speakwhat was in my mind while Flora was listening. We were between twoperils, and I called out to Moralle for his opinion.

  "If the redskins are in any force it will be impossible to land and makethe portage," I said. "We are within a quarter of a mile of the rapidsnow. What are the chances of running them safely?"

  "I have taken a canoe through them twice," replied Moralle, "and I coulddo it again. That is, provided I can paddle and look where I am going.Shall I try it, sir?"

  "No, not yet; wait a little," I answered.

  "I don't like this silence," exclaimed Gummidge. "Why did the redskinsstop firing so suddenly? Mark my word, Carew, there's a piece ofdeviltry brewing. I'm afraid not one of us will--"

  I stopped him by a gesture, and spoke a few comforting words to Flora;her face was very white, but beyond that she showed no trace of fear.Then I crept a little past Baptiste, and with the point of my knife Ihurriedly made two small holes below the gunwales of the canoe, one oneach side. I peeped through both in turn, and the curve of the bow gaveme as clear a view ahead as I could have wished.

  What I saw partly explained the meaning of the brief silence--scarcelymore than a minute had elapsed since the musket volley. Here and there,in the leafy woods to right and left I caught a glimpse of dusky,swiftly moving bodies. We were close upon the falls, and but for thenoise of the tumbling waters I could have heard the scurrying feet ofour determined foes.

  "What do you make out?" Gummidge whispered.

  "The Indians are running ahead of us through the forest," I replied."They expect that we will try the portage, and then they will have us ina trap. Our only chance is to dash down the rapids."

  "It's a mighty poor one," murmured Gummidge; and as he spoke I heard anhysterical sob from his wife.

  "We are not going quite straight," I called to Moralle. "If we keep onthis course we will hit the rocks. A few strokes to the left--"

  "I'll manage that, sir," the plucky voyageur interrupted.

  I glanced over my shoulder, and saw him rise to his knees and begin topaddle. He was not fired on, as I had expected would be the case, soBaptiste and I ventured to lift our heads. As we watched, we held ourmuskets ready for the shoulder.

  The current was bearing us on swiftly. A short distance below, theriver narrowed to a couple of hundred feet, and here stretched theline of half-sunken rocks that marked the beginning of the falls. In thevery center was a break several yards wide, and straight for this thecanoe was now driving. There was no sign of the enemy, and it wasdifficult to realize that such a deadly peril awaited us.

  Bang went a musket, and a puff of bluish smoke curled from the forest onthe left. The ball passed over Moralle's head; he ceased paddling anddropped under cover. Baptiste did the same, but I kept my head up,looking for a chance to return the shot. My attention had just beenattracted by a movement between the trees, when Gummidge cried,hoarsely:

  "Keep down, Miss Hatherton! That was a mad thing to do!"

  I turned around sharply as Gummidge released his hold of Flora, who, Ijudged, had been exposing herself recklessly. I was startled by herappearance. She looked at me with frightened eyes and parted lips, witha face the hue of ashes.

  "Save me!" she gasped. "I saw him! I saw him!"

  "Saw who?" I cried.

  "Cuthbert Mackenzie! I am sure it was he, Denzil!" And she pointed tothe right.

  I looked hard in that direction, scanning the woods right and left. ByHeavens, the girl had not been mistaken. Through a rift in the foliage,nearly opposite the canoe, peered a swarthy, sinister countenance and Irecognized the features of Cuthbert Mackenzie. I took aim at him, butbefore I could fire he was gone. My brain seemed in a whirl. I had foundthe clew--the fiendish clew--to the attack that threatened to cost usour lives. Bent on revenge, Mackenzie had traveled up country tointercept us on the way to the fort--to kill me, and to capture Flora.He had bribed the savages to help him, and he and his ruthless allieshad been in the vicinity of our camp on the previous night.

  Swiftly these things coursed through my mind. I tried to speak to Flora,but my tongue seemed to be held fast. I heard a shot--another andanother. The bullets sang close to my ear.

  "Down--down!" warned Gummidge.

  "Keep low!" shouted Moralle and Lavigne in one breath.

  My brain grew suddenly clear, but I did not heed the friendly advice.Three shots had missed me, and I knew that the canoe was jerking abouttoo much with the current to admit of a sure aim the savages.

  "Paddle on, Moralle!" I cried. "Faster--faster!"

  Meanwhile I watched the right hank, hoping to get another chance atCuthbert Mackenzie. Baptiste--brave fellow!--was on the alert with mebut he was scanning the left shore, and a sudden exclamation from himdrew my eyes in the same direction. Ten yards in front, on the edge ofthe timber, a redskin thrust his coppery face from the leaves. I firedas quickly and the savage vanished with a yell of pain.

  We were almost upon the rapids, and half a minute more would see usplunged into the seething, foaming slide of angry waters. To right andleft, where the jagged reef touched the forest, stood three or fourpainted redskins, with muskets to their shoulders. And some distancebelow the falls, where the water broadened and shallowed, I made out thefeather-decked heads of more Indians. This was a dread and significantdiscovery, and I instantly perceived the trap that had been laid for us.

  "Keep under cover!" I shouted at the top of my voice.

  "Be ready to fight when we pass the rapids! The devils are waiting forus below, blocking the way! Don't try to paddle, Moralle. The canoe isheaded straight for the rift in the middle. It's sure death if you showyourself."