How Canada Was Won: A Tale of Wolfe and Quebec

The parties saluted, the French with formality, the trappers in their own rough and ready manner. Then they turned from one another and went on their different ways, the French overjoyed at such handsome treatment, the trappers pleased to have been of service. As for Steve he little thought that he would soon have need of French help. He little dreamed that the time was near at hand when it would take the influence of a man stronger even than Colonel de Prossen to save him from death. He made back for the hillock, and that night there was no prouder commander than he, for he and his men had come well out of their first engagement.

Chapter XIII
A Traitor in the Camp

"To Captain Steve Mainwaring, His Majesty's Regiment of Scouts."

An Indian climbed up the steep rise of the hillock on the day following the French attack and presented a note to our hero. Steve turned it over in his gloved hand, looked at the writing, and then opened the missive.

"You have done well, and I congratulate you," ran the letter from the Commander of Fort William Henry. "Your messenger reached us late last night and explained the heavy firing which we had heard. For your information I now beg to tell you that I have suspicions that news is leaking out of this fort. The French have become acquainted with our dispositions within a few hours of our making them. There is treachery somewhere, and I look to you to discover who is the rascal. You will take steps to clear up this mystery, and will report in due course. I am sending you this day a further store of provisions, powder, and shot to suit the captured cannon."

There was the usual official ending to the letter and the signature of the Commander of Fort William Henry. Steve read it through again, folded it, and dismissed the Indian. Then he called Pete and Jim and discussed the matter with them.

"Ef there was fifty traitors and bearers of news it wouldn't surprise me," said Pete. "I ain't got no opinion of them colonists and reg'lars at Fort William Henry. No opinion at all. They ain't fer the most part fit to watch for Frenchmen, and much less for Injuns. What air the use of expecting 'em to be any good, when them critters the Frenchies could slip through trappers sich as we air? How do yer mean to get about the business, Cap'n? It seems no easy matter. You've got a mighty wide strip of country to watch, and ef it's one man bearin' the news, as seems probable, why, he can go any way, and slip in between us."

The question was a more than usually difficult one, and for a long while Steve sat and smoked, staring out through the exit of the fort, for the damage done by the exploding powder had now been more or less repaired. News was leaking out of the British fort, news which might be of importance. It was feared that the French, who were in great strength at Ticonderoga, might select some clear, fine night to start out from their fort, and time their march so as to arrive near Fort William Henry early in the morning. The commander who had sent Steve the message knew very well that he was sadly lacking in many respects, particularly in scouts, and the fear of this descent of the French weighed upon him. And now, in some way or other, he had learned that news was leaking, that plans he made to resist a French attack were promptly conveyed to the enemy.

"We have got to stop the leakage whatever happens," said Steve suddenly, "for if the French are always to know what our people are doing, they might easily take them unawares and slaughter the whole garrison. My idea is to take advantage of snowy and overcast weather."

"Snowy weather! Steve – beg pardon – Cap'n, that ain't like you," exclaimed Jim, somewhat sadly. "How on airth air a man to see sech a skunk when it's thick? It ain't possible. Ef there's one thing sartin it is that thick weather ain't the time to turn out and hunt."

"Not if we have to hunt a wide strip of land, Jim," answered Steve drily. "But we shall not have to do that. This fellow makes use of Lake St. George. Steady, Jim. I know you have your own ideas. So have I. Listen to them and then laugh as much as you like."

The tall trapper subsided at Steve's words, while Pete grinned.

"Fill up yer pipe, Huntin' Jim," he said with a laugh. "Reckon you've got to sit tight while the Cap'n says his say. This here's a palaver. When he's done, you can get to it with yer tongue. An old hoss like you air worth paying some attention to. So's Steve. He air a good 'un."

Jim was mollified. A smile wreathed his thin lips and wrinkled his mahogany features. He sat down on a lump of frozen snow, kicked off his snowshoes, and rammed a plug of tobacco into his pipe.

"Right there, Pete," he said. "Reckon when all's said and done that an old trapper air worth consultin' when it comes to a fix and there's time to think. But he ain't as good always when there's a muss and something's got to be done right away at once. Then it's the youngsters who air worth attendin' to. They air quicker like with their brains, and chaps like Steve here gets ideas like a flash. He's done it before."

"I was speaking of the lake, then," said Steve, with a smile, for he knew Jim well by now, and was aware of his impetuous nature. "I said that in my opinion this man, for we will take it for granted that one only is employed in the work, comes and goes over the ice, and most likely has a rendezvous somewhere near Fort William Henry, where he meets the rascal who gives away the information which the French require."

"Gives, Cap'n!" exclaimed Pete, with an oath. "Gives air a polite word, I guess. Chaps what act as traitors don't give much. They sell. I can't make out how a man, who's worth calling sich, can 'low hisself to do a dirty trick like that. It's selling country and friends, and p'raps wife and children, and all for a little gold."

"Mean men are employed in mean trades, Pete," answered Steve. "It may even be that this rascal who sells news from Fort William Henry is a Frenchman in disguise, an English-speaking ruffian with French sympathies. Any way, I fancy that is how the news leaks out. There is someone in the fort who sneaks into the forest and meets a French messenger. That messenger makes his way over the ice, of that I am sure, for the simple reason that when we came through the forest on our way here there was only one track, a fresh one, you will remember, which had been used by several men. This sort of business is done by a single messenger as a rule, and even supposing that I am wrong in saying that the man does not make use of the forest, he will not do so in future for fear of running into our scouting parties. He will also choose snowy weather, for our look-out station here gives us the opportunity of seeing anyone who leaves the fort at Ticonderoga."

"Blest ef he ain't a judge like his father," burst in Jim, smoking furiously. "Get on with it, Steve."

"There is really nothing more. We shall send out scouts every day, and night, too, when the weather is fine. When it comes on snowy, we'll send men down close to Fort William Henry, while a few of us will station ourselves across the lake and watch. The man who comes from Ticonderoga will cut over the ice in a direct line, for he has a long journey, and will take the shortest route. Look out there for yourselves. That line I speak of will pass the point which pushes out from this side of the lake. A line of watchers stretched for a quarter of a mile across that line ought to see something."

For a little while the trio stared out at the frozen and snow-covered surface of the lake, that lake at the head of which stood the French fort of Ticonderoga, while at its foot was Fort William Henry. And as they looked, Jim and Pete agreed to the full with what Steve had said.

"Reckon you're right, Cap'n," said the former. "This chap'll be caught somewheres within hail of that point ef he's caught at all. Waal, we've given them Frenchies and their varmint a knock already, and we'll let 'em have another. Give us a fill of yer 'bacca, Steve. Mine's done. Now, let's have some orders. It's time we shook down to reg'lar business."

It took only a little while to arrange the duties for the whole band. They were divided into two sections, each of which was to act as a rule independently of the other. They were to take night duty week by week, and when away from the fort, as it had now come to be called, were to scour as much of the country as possible, so as to prevent French parties from pouncing upon the woodcutters who were sent every day from Fort William Henry. This arrangement would always allow half the band to garrison the place, while the boom of one of the captured cannon would quickly bring the other in, if that were necessary. As to the weapons which had been captured, they had been mounted on the front face of the hillock, and a little thought and skilful handling by one of the band possessing some mechanical knowledge soon removed the spikes which Steve had driven into the vents. Men were told off from the two parties to act as gunners, and no sooner had the arrangements been completed than Mac took these men in hand, and commenced to drill them in their new duties. One other arrangement was made.

"If snow begins to fall, those who are out scouting will make at once for Fort William Henry," said Steve. "They will endeavour to hit upon the meeting-place where this rascal sells his news, while those who are resting here will file off to that point on the lake, and will draw a line out from it. It will be cold work, boys, but it may bring success, and thanks from our commander. I think, too, that it might help if the men engaged in this last duty were dressed as Indians, for then a Frenchman who happened to catch sight of one of our number would not take fright so easily. You see, we have very few braves working with us, and they seldom come even as far from the fort as this. The French have, on the other hand, some hundreds of Hurons, Micmacs, and other braves, and they make long excursions."

"It air a good thing that," agreed Pete. "What's more, there ain't a one of us that can't dress as an Injun in quick time, and act the part too. As for dress, there's plenty of the braves lyin' out in the forest."

For a week the scouting work of the band of trappers went on without incident. The two parties fell into their duties as if they were born to them, and all agreed that their lot was infinitely more pleasant than it would have been had they remained at Fort William Henry. Thanks to the care which Steve had taken, the men had ample time for rest and sleep, and either half of the band on their return from scouting always found a good meal ready, that being one of the duties of those resting in the fort.

"Reckon that 'ere attack and the way we beat 'em off has shook them Frenchies and their Injuns up a bit," said Jim, one night as he sat smoking in front of the cosy fire which blazed in the fort. "They've had their own way for a precious long time, and it's kind'er taken their breath away to have someone suddenly stop 'em. There ain't no news from Fort William Henry, Cap'n?"

"Only that the commandant thinks that whoever has been sending news to the enemy has been quiet this last week. It has been fine, Jim."

"Ay, and it'll snow afore many hours have gone. Jacob thar?"

"Waal, what air wrong? What's wanted?"

A bearded head, topped by a coon-skin cap of huge dimensions which covered the ears, was thrust into the opening of the fort, while the owner held the blanket aside with one of his thickly gloved hands. The firelight shone upon his tanned face, and upon the hundreds of tiny icicles which clung to his beard, his moustache, and eyebrows.

"Waal?" he repeated. "What's amiss?"

"Nothing, lad. But you air the boy on sentry go, as Mac calls it, and it's reasonable to think that you've looked to the weather. What's it doin'?"

"Nothing. Jest cold as ever it was. But it's cloudy. There ain't so many stars. Suppose it'll snow afore midnight."

"Then sing out when the first flake falls," called Jim. "Now, shut that 'ere door, Jacob, and quick with it. The wind comes in like a knife, and we're warm and smokin'."

The bearded face at the opening grinned, a grin denoting disgust rather than merriment.

"You was always like that, Huntin' Jim," Jacob growled. "Just wait till it's your turn for sentry go. I'll be the boy then to sit snug in thar and smoke, and I won't let you know it, oh no, of course I won't."

He was gone, and they heard his feet scrunching the frozen snow outside. The blanket fell into its place, and the men inside lounged again, spreading their hands to the flare, smoking and gossiping, for your trapper was not always the silent person he is sometimes painted, but a garrulous individual, fond of company, and making the most of it when he had the opportunity. A little later blankets were produced, and the whole party lay down with their feet to the fire, over which a huge iron pot of stew was left simmering.

"It air snowin'. Jest rouse yerselves and come out. It'll liven some of yer outside, for the wind air like a knife."

Jacob's bearded face appeared again, and he roused the trappers with no gentle hand. They sprang to their feet, rubbed the sleep from their eyes, and prepared to depart. Ten minutes later saw them all filing from the fort, all save two who were to act as guard. They were dressed in their usual hunting costumes, under which all wore the thickest and warmest garments that they could procure for otherwise they could never have endured such exposure. And now, in addition, each had an Indian blanket wrapped round him, while an eagle's crest was secured to the warm fur caps which all wore.

"We shall pass," said Steve, as he inspected his comrades in the firelight. "Now, one word more before we go. This must be the work of one man to-night. We shall be spread out over the ice, and should the Frenchman come, he will probably be seen by one only of our number. That one must pounce upon him promptly. Come along."

He turned to the doorway and went out, the band following close upon his heels. It was snowing outside, but not so hard as it did on the day when the Indians and French attacked them. It was, in fact, just the night that a man would choose for an expedition such as that of meeting a rascal from the British force, and buying information from him, for the snow would act as an excellent cloak, while it was not so thick as to prevent a man from making progress in it. Then again, though the wind was cold, it was not blowing strongly, and what there was came from the south.

Steve stepped over the snow wall which had been left in front of the fort, and gaining the steep slope beyond it, promptly slid down, his snowshoes scattering the white particles in a fine spray on either side. One by one the band followed, floundering down to the bottom. Then they moved off in single file, and very soon had plunged into the depths of the silent forest. Three miles took them to the bank of Lake St. George, when they struck out on to the ice, here clear of snow, for the wind had been in the opposite direction, and had swept it away. Their faces were now turned to the north, and they kept on in that direction for half an hour. Then Steve halted. It was still very dark, and snowing a little. But all were glad to find that the forest, which clad the point below them, sheltered them from the keen wind, and that it was considerably warmer.

"We will spread now," said Steve. "If you find that you are getting cold, swing your arms round your head. Don't beat them against your sides, for the sound would carry."

"It air likely, too, that some of the boys will fall asleep with this cold and standin' still," whispered Jim. "Steve, supposin' yer order the men to beat up and down past one another. That'll keep 'em lively, and it'll make it more sartin that no one can get through."

There were twelve in all, and their young leader at once adopted the suggestion.

"We'll divide again into two parties," he said. "Jim, you will have command of the five out farthest, making with yourself six. I'll command the other half. We will spread out for a quarter of a mile from this bank, you posting yourself at the farthest point. The men will be at intervals of about forty yards, and as soon as they are in position they will commence to beat to and fro, each couple exchanging places. In that way the ground will be thoroughly patrolled. Understand?"

"Right, Cap'n."

"Then take your men. This fellow may be along at any moment."

Within ten minutes the twelve watchers were in position, and for four long and weary hours the men continued to patrol the snow-covered ice. But trappers were used to such work, and made light of the exposure, though the wind was so cold, even here in the shelter, that untrained men would quickly have succumbed. However, Jim's idea helped not a little, for the men patrolled backwards and forwards without cessation, walking at a brisk pace, which kept their blood circulating and their extremities warm. And as they watched, the snow still fell silently and gently, sometimes almost ceasing altogether. The sky overhead was still overcast, but not so much as before, and that added to the reflection from this vast expanse of white made it possible for all the men to see a few yards in all directions, and to retain their relative positions. A deathly silence hung over the lake, broken only by an occasional crash, as the wind sent a mass of snow tumbling from the trees in the forest. Then the sound would reverberate down the long expanse of ice, and go rolling away to the mountains far beyond.

"It looks as if we were going to be disappointed, Jim," said Steve, as he walked along the line to speak to the hunter. We have been in position four solid hours, and have seen nothing."

"Which don't say as there ain't nothin' to be seen, Cap'n," was the answer. "I reckon it's somewhere's about three in the mornin', and a good hour for this feller to be returnin'. P'raps he slipped past here before we turned out of the fort. He may have made so far through the forest, and then dropped on to the ice when the snow commenced. Give him another two hours, and then we may as well get back to the fort and curl up in front of the fire. It's cold here. Them chaps down at Fort William Henry would ha' been asleep or frozen long ago."

They separated again, and another half hour passed without interruption. Then, suddenly, from the lower end of the lake there came a shout, then a second, and almost immediately afterwards the report of a rifle, heard very clearly at that distance, for the ice acted as a sounding-board. At once all was excitement amongst the waiting trappers. They lifted their coon-skin caps so as to make sure that they would hear even the slightest sound, and ranged up and down at an even faster pace. They were on the qui vive, and determined to catch anyone who attempted to pass them.

"Chances air that Pete and the other boys have come upon the meeting of these varmint," said Jim, as he drew close to Steve. "They've likely as not shot one of 'em, and will be followin' the other. Supposin' we extend a little."

The movement was carried out promptly, Steve stationing himself on the far extremity of the line. An hour later, when the excitement had died down and the trappers were beginning to murmur that there was little use in staying, for the man, if he actually existed, must have already passed, or have been shot lower down the lake, Steve thought he caught sight of a figure flitting across the snow quite a distance out on the lake. He could not be certain, but as it would not do to miss even a chance, he hurriedly set off in the direction, trusting that the trapper stationed next to him would be careful to notice that he had gone, and would follow on his traces. Dashing ahead at his fastest pace, it was not long before he came upon the marks of snowshoes, and, thanks to the increased light out there on the lake, made sure that two men had passed. Then he set off after them, sweeping over the snow at a rate which would have taxed the endurance of an Indian, for Steve was an old hand with snowshoes. A quarter of an hour later he again caught sight of a figure, and within a few minutes made out a second, in advance of the first. The time for action had arrived. He took one swift glance behind him, and thought he saw the dull outline of one of the trappers following in his wake. Then he started forward again, and soon was within easy distance of the last of the figures.

"Halt, there!" he shouted, as he lifted his musket to his shoulder. "Throw your hands up, both of you, and return at once."

There was an exclamation, a shout of alarm, and almost instantly the two men threw themselves on their faces in the snow. Then there was a short interval, followed by the loud report of a musket. A splash of flame illumined the darkness, while a leaden ball raced past Steve's head, and went humming into the distance. He was down in an instant, and having waited to make sure of the position of the enemy, he took careful aim and fired. Instantly there was a loud scream, one of the dark figures started up, staggered, and fell again, to roll over and over in the snow. Then something else happened. A dozen shots were fired from a spot some little distance to the right, while Indian war-whoops broke on the air.

"They must have had friends waiting for them," thought Steve, as he busily reloaded. "Where is Jim? He and the men should be here by now. Ah! That must be their fire."

He swung round suddenly, for more shots had rung out behind him, shots which he made sure came from the muskets of his friends. But in a moment he found that he was mistaken. A series of loud reports answered the last discharge, and the flashes told him that the muskets were aimed in his direction.

"Surrounded! The Indians have got between me and my friends," thought Steve. "I must creep away, and make the best of a bad position."

He knelt up stealthily, saw no one in his immediate neighbourhood, and commenced to creep on hands and knees. But he was not allowed to go very far, for one of the two dusky figures which he had been following rose at once, and strode back a few paces. There was the loud ring of a ramrod as the man drove in a bullet, and then came the report, the crash of which rang in Steve's ears. Stars flashed in front of his eyes, and the snow over which he was creeping turned to a blood-red hue. He fell all of a heap, and lay there for some few seconds, while the shouts of the combatants rang in his ears. Then he revived a little, staggered to his feet and fell again, this time with a crash which left him senseless. When he came to himself again he was being carried on the shoulders of four Indians, the snow had ceased, and the lights which twinkled in the distance were those of Ticonderoga. Steve was a prisoner.