T. C. Harbaugh

“ Not a sound disturbs the stillness of the wood; but just at the edge of the meager clearing that lies before the cabin, a little river flows northward with a low noise, for it is almost bank full.
Man and dog are wide awake; the former gazes into the fire, the latter looks up into the hard, sunbrowned face.
The master is a great, strong man, whose looks, physique and voice, when he speaks, indicates a long frontier life. He is perhaps three and forty years of age. Some would say that he is fifty; but people must not judge age by certain crows-feet on the brow; troubles make young men old. ”

“ The gray stone was covered with a loathsome species of the dark green creeper, and the repulsive head of many a glittering lizard protruded from the fissures.
“This is Satan’s land,” said Wolf-Cap, looking up at the spectacle just described, “and presently we’ll enter his cave.”
A few steps brought them to a great fissure, that extended from the top of the cliff to the water’s edge, and into which a man could edge his way.
“Well, here we are,” remarked the trapper, stooping to examine the foot of the crack. “It looks like the cave of death, but,” looking up suddenly, “it is inhabited.” ”

“ A minute’s silence followed the Briton’s last words. The signal, whatever it was to have been, did not cleave the cool night air—not a sound came from the fort.
“The jig is up,” hoarsely hissed O’Neill, stamping his foot with rage. “Funk’s infernal passion for that girl has ruined our plans. Splitlog, is he a specimen of the men you associate with? Go and recall the forces! The day is breaking now, and if our men are not instantly withdrawn, they will be slaughtered like sheep.”
The Wyandot sachem left the hill, and presently every besieger relinquished the designed attack. ”

“ I love Huldah, because she looks like Bessie did twenty years ago.
“Now I do see light. I feel that Levi Armstrong is Ralph Morton. God keep me alive till I can tell him so.”
“What would you do with him?” ventured the young borderman.
“What would you do, young man, with the devil who should snatch heavenly happiness from your heart?” said the trapper slowly.
“I would hunt him down and kill him!”
“That’s just what I am going to do,” returned Wolf-Cap through closed lips. “Some men might forgive such a wrong as mine, but I—never! Now for her, Mark Harmon, chief,” and the trapper started forward. ”

“ There’s a girl in Fort Strong—a girl whom I want—Huldah Armstrong, and strange to say, Card Belt wants her, too.”
“Ah! I see,” said the British officer, with a smile. “He is your rival.”
“Yes, colonel; but I hold the best hand now, as you will admit by glancing at the cards. We are bound to take the fort.”
“It will be ours before another sunset. You know what Strong is doing?”
“Andrews told me, an hour since. But can we rely on him?”
“We can,” said O’Neill, assuringly, and with emphasis. “Strong, at the heart, is a coward, yet he will do desperate things. ”

“ He stood before the outlaw a moment in silence, and then spoke.
“Splitlog hears the voices of his people,” he said. “He will not strike the Night-Hawk until they have pronounced on his fate. He,” pointing to Funk, “has lived long among the Wyandots; they know him—he is brave.”
As the Indian paused, O’Neill stepped forward, and laid his hand on the naked shoulder. The Briton’s face was still aflame with rage.
“Say nothing for nor against him, chief,” he said, in the Wyandot tongue. “Tell your braves to say life or death, and that quickly.” ”

“ The young frontiersman was almost as strong as the captain, and he bore him to the puncheons before he could resist.
“I’m sorry it comes to this, captain,” he said, beckoning several men to his assistance. “We’re not going to let women die at our doors when we can save them. Now lie still until we release you, or by heavens we’ll turn you without the fort!”
Other hands than the young borderman’s now seized the captain, who soon relinquished his struggles, and Harmon sprung to his feet.
“Quick, Mark!” cried a man at a port-hole. “Quick! they’re thundering at the gates.” ”

“ Spagano looked at the sleepers, and glanced from them to the flask hanging at his waist. The glance was fraught with triumph, and breathed of the red-man’s proverbial treachery to the white.
He watched the guards for several minutes and then approached. The scrutiny pleased him, and he crawled from the camp and disappeared in the forest. He moved down the trail which the Night-Hawks had lately traversed, and thirty yards from the camp paused and put his ear to the ground. ”

“ The soldiers regained their equilibrium as he disappeared, and a volley that hurtled harmlessly among the branches was sent after him.
“Free! free to hate the English, as I hate the Americans,” he murmured, as he bounded through the forest. “They have killed my Night-Hawks, and by heaven! from this hour I never spare an English life. Now for the lake shore, where I gathered the brave fellows who sleep beneath British guns. There I’ll find others as brave, perhaps, as they, and we’ll hunt O’Neill’s detachment down like the Indian hunts the slayers of his wigwam pets. O’Neill—I’ve settled him! ”

“ There was the quick, sharp snapping of a twig, and Silver Hand and his assistant stood before the trapper.
“We no go to cave,” said Silver Hand. “Hide here ’while to watch fight. But look, Wolf-Cap! roof all on fire. Why don’t pale-faces put it out? They got water in fort.”
“Yes, but the traitor has disabled them somehow. I’m afraid it’s all day with the brave fellows. But they shan’t die alone!” and the trapper started forward.
“Silver Hand and Golden Cheek go with Wolf-Cap,” said the Wyandot, and a moment later the trio were hurrying toward the seemingly doomed structure. ”

“ Mark Harmon, the young frontiersman, opened the council.
“In the first place,” he said, “we need a new well.”
“We have a well, sir,” said Strong, tartly.
“You seem to forget that we have depended on the river for much water. That supply is effectually cut off now, and our sole well will not supply the demand in case the fort should be set on fire with blazing arrows. We are in for a desperate siege; the result of the gate battle has exasperated our foes, and they will leave no hellish contrivance for our capture untried. I look for terrible times to-night.” ”

“ A well-defined trail stretched before him, and he walked rapidly through the moonlit forest, trailing his long-barreled rifle at his side.
It was a night in August, 1812, and, as not a breath of wind was stirring, the heat was oppressive. Once or twice the hunter started a deer from the weed-fringed margin of some forest stream, or frightened a coyote from his feast of freshly-slain bird.
Suddenly he paused and listened to a silver voice, soaring skyward far away.
“That’s Huldah’s voice,” he said, audibly. “No woman can sing like her in these parts. ”

“ The sight of the brave fugitives almost at his gates, and hard pressed by a savage foe, did not soften Captain Strong’s heart, in which cowardice and personal fear burrowed like a ground-hog.
The pale faces of the fugitives were visible in the moonlight, and all at once a cry came from the very shadow of the palisades:
“Open the gates!”
Zebulon Strong turned from the port-hole and halloed to the guards below:
“Watch the gates closely. Kill the first man who attempts to open them.” ”

“ I’m talking plainly now,” he said. “The three pistol-shots on the hill told me that O’Neill accepted the propositions which I sent him by the deserter Sawyer; but our plans failed.”
The girl did not reply; her eyes wandered from his expression of triumph, and she thought of her perilous situation.
Captain Armstrong hated her, and to humor his hate he would make her a hopeless captive. Mercy at his hands was not to be thought of; he would shoot her down before he would surrender her into other hands, and she upbraided herself for not allowing O’Neill to capture her in the forest. ”

“ Card Belt, so sure as the sun rises this day, Strong’s fort shall be given to the 35 flames, and its inmates, all save one, to the tomahawk. We are determined to depopulate ‘the fire-lands.’ Why man, four hundred Indians invest the fort at this hour. How can it escape?”
“It can! it shall!” cried the trapper. “But,” and his tone softened, “but you say that one person in Strong’s shall not die. Pray, Royal Funk, who is to be thus favored?” ”

“ The mouth of Eel Creek was reached, and the Huron crossed in safety, and the fears of the fugitives began to subside.
Strong’s fort would soon be reached, and then they could bid defiance to the fiends of the fire-lands.
But suddenly, while pushing down the left bank of the Huron, the report of a rifle saluted their ears, and John Logan fell to rise no more. Instantly the settler turned to combat his foes, when three more shots were poured into their little ranks by the hidden enemies, and then the fugitives, knowing themselves near Strong’s and ahead of the slayers, turned and fled. ”

“ Funk, as I have told the colonel,” said the outlaw, quickly, glancing at the officer as he spoke. “She is mine!”
“But Night-Hawk didn’t give signal. He let a squaw run off with his head.”
Splitlog’s anger was rising again, and O’Neill was secretly rejoicing.
“I know it, chief; but to-night we’ll work together.”
“Like we did when it was dark before,” hissed the Wyandot, and his right arm started back threateningly. “The Night-Hawk is a traitor, and traitors are dogs. He no man at all who’ll let blue eyes draw him from duty.”
“Well, what is Splitlog going to do about it?” ”

“ Colonel O’Neill was livid with rage, and threatened to withdraw his troops.
“Frank is the cause of all this,” he thundered to Splitlog. “You should take the villain out and shoot him when he shows his face in camp. But he’ll never have the audacity to show his face here. Perhaps he succeeded in getting the girl, and has fled to parts unknown. The fort would have been ours after a brief struggle. The deserter declares that Strong has six men on whom he can depend. So, chief, you see what we have missed by one man’s absorbing passion.” ”

“ The Indians are ready for a rush so soon as the gates grind ajar. Every stump on the plain shelters a red-skin. No, the gates don’t open!”
“But the fugitives are the Logans and the Armstrongs!” remonstrated Mark Harmon, biting his lip with indignation.
“They belong at Throop’s!” hoarsely hissed the captain. “We’ll be massacred if we open the gates to them.”
“Better die for an act of mercy than outraging the dictates of humanity.”
A contemptuous sneer came to the captain’s lips, and as he turned to the port-hole again he drew a pistol. ”

“ The figures in the pursuing boat were seen to spring to the oars with new life, and the race soon became one of the most exciting character. Captain Strong possessed the strength of a giant in his iron frame, and his oars lashed the waves into foam, as he drove the boat toward his goal, lake Erie, distant many miles.
“You needn’t pray for their success,” he cried, looking up into Huldah’s wishful, hopeful face, “for they can’t catch us! It’s impossible. Your father gave me a splendid boat with oars that can not break. By heavens! with this canoe I could shoot the fury rapids of perdition. ”

“ Captain Strong is a traitor; he has promised to betray you into the hands of the Indians!”
A moment of silence followed. The trapper had paused for breath.
“Your roof is on fire. Put it out, and see to the traitor. Hold out like men. You’ll get help from outside by-and-by.”
Then Wolf-Cap turned from the gate and started toward the river.
48
The darkness favored his flight. As yet no attack had been made upon the fort from the stream. The major portion of the besiegers were on the hill, the summit of which was on a level with the embrasures, into which the foe could shoot with effect. ”

“ The lower guard opened the door without a challenge, and the trio passed into the yard.
There Levi Armstrong’s worst fears were realized. The gate was deserted and stood ajar!
Deserted? No! At the foot of one of the posts lay the body of a man.
55
“Heavens! Huldah is gone!” cried the settler, staggering from the scene, for a moment completely unmanned.
For a moment only.
“The gate! the gate!” he cried, springing forward, but Vanderberg and Poston had foreseen the danger.
Their strong arms closed the ponderous structure, as a hundred arrows buried their flinty heads in the boards! ”

“ To the block-house is the cry now. If safety lies anywhere, it is there.”
Levi Armstrong, the old settler, stood in the dim light of the tin fat lamp, and quivered with rage.
“Belt,” he said, slowly and with emphasis, “I’m not goin’ to give up the work of my hands without a struggle. You kin bet on that.”
“But Huldah must go to the block-house. Strong’s is the strongest, and best defended. We must act—”
“So long as father remains from the block-house I remain, too,” interrupted Huldah Armstrong, as she touched Wolf-Cap’s arm. “I share his love for our home. He shall not be separated from me.” ”