Captain Jim Mason

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Class 7

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CHAPTER I KICHKINET BRINGS A CLUE TTER his successful battle with the French

XjLand their Indians at Lake George, early in September, 1755, Colonel William Johnson set his troops at work building a strong fort at the southeastern end of the lake. It was completed early in the autumn, and called Fort William Henry in honor of the sons of King George. A garrison of colonial militiamen and a company of rangers were stationed at the fort to watch French activities at Ticonderoga, the French stronghold, thirty miles away, at the northern end of the lake.

The rangers were experienced backwoods¬ men and scouts who had been recruited from the frontier settlements. They were rugged, fearless men accustomed to the hardships and perils of the wilderness, and well qualified to cope with the crafty Canadian voyagers and their savage Indian allies whom the French sent forth to raid the colonial frontiers.

The rangers were commanded by Captain Jim Mason, a young frontiersman and scout, who was held in high esteem by Colonel Johnson and his officers. Jim Mason had passed much time among the Mohawks, who knew him as Achawi, He-Who-Settles-Disputes. Two years previous, after the death of his father, he had made his way to the Mohawk village to begin his career as a trader. His courage and honesty won the respect and confi¬ dence of the Mohawks, and he was able to exert a strong influence toward gaining their alle¬ giance for the English colonists.

The following year, with the beginning of war between the French and the English, Jim Mason was made a lieutenant in the colonial militia and appointed chief of scouts. He ac¬ companied Colonel Johnson on an eventful jour¬ ney to Virginia, and enlisted as a scout with General Braddock. After the disastrous expe¬ dition against Fort Duquesne, Jim returned to Fort Johnson and was commissioned to lead a company of Mohawks to join Colonel Johnson and his troops in the expedition against the French at Crown Point. Jim and his Mohawk scouts played a conspicuous part in the battle with the French at Lake George, and when Colonel Johnson v/ithdrew his forces from the 2

KICHKINET BRINGS ^ CLUE field at the approach of cold weather, Jim was promoted to a captaincy in recognition of his services, and detailed at Fort William Henry in command of the rangers.

Jim Mason and his rangers found much to do, as the French kept marauding companies of Canadians and Indians constantly about the borders of the English settlements. They made their devastating raids, and disappeared into the wilderness with amazing suddenness, and the border settlements were in a state of panic. Alert to the peril, Colonel Johnson realized that unless those outlaws were trailed to their rendezvous and overcome, there would be little peace for the people of the colonies. He de¬ termined to employ Mason and his rangers to disperse the troublesome foes who had their secret rendezvous in the wilderness beyond the English frontiers.

Early in October Jim Mason received orders to devote himself to running down the outlaws. It was a difficult and perilous task, and Jim realized the great responsibility that had been placed upon him. However, he was entirely familiar with the type of crafty foe with whom he had to deal, and he believed that with fair luck he might eventually accomplish his task.

‘‘Well, Dan, we have a real job on our hands 3 again/' he told old Dan Holcombe, a veteran scout who had accompanied Jim in many of his adventures.

‘‘Eight sartin, son," declared Holcombe. “An' do you know, Jim, I've an idee that I know who's at the bottom of this business."

“Whom do you suspect?" Jim asked, quickly.

“Wall, I'm not ready to give proof, but I figure that Jacques Trouville an' that rogue Stockley have a hand in it.''

Jim nodded thoughtfully.

“Dan, I have been thinking of that possi¬ bility," he said.

Holcombe winked.

At that moment a young fellow in buckskins approached and stood at salute.

“Well, Williams?" Jim inquired.

“Captain Mason, your friend the Mohawk has returned," said the ranger.

“Send him here," Jim told him.

“Very good, sir."

In a few moments Jim and Holcombe were joined by a tall, sinewy, young Mohawk war¬ rior.

“Kichkinet, I am glad to see you," Jim said, cordially.

“ Achawi, I have brought words from my peo¬ ple," Kichkinet told him.

KICHKINET BRINGS A CLUE

He nodded toward Holcombe who returned the silent salutation.

‘^Come to my quarters,” said Jim. ‘‘Hol¬ combe, I wish you to hear what Kichkinet has to tell me. ’ *

They went to the officers^ barracks, and en¬ tered a small room at one end of the long log building.

“Now, Mohawk, tell us what you have to say,” said Jim, as they seated themselves.

“It is bad,” declared Kichkinet. “Achawi, I believe that our enemy Ho-sa-ha-ho and that white man are making this trouble for your people. ^ ^

Jim and Holcombe exchanged glances.

“Do you mean Jacques Trouville and his friend Stockley?” Jim asked, sharply.

Kichkinet nodded.

“Are you sure of it?” inquired Jim.

“No,” replied Kichkinet. “My father told me about it. I will tell you about it. My people are getting ready for the big hunt. Our hunters are in the woods looking for game. You know my brother Black Cloud and my brother Stands Alone.

“Yes.”

“Black Cloud and Stands Alone were far away toward the-place-where-the-sun-goes- 5 down. They were looking for game. Pretty soon they saw some fresh tracks. They were the tracks of Indians. Stands Alone looked close. Pretty soon he saw something. He called Black Cloud. They found the tracks of white men. Two white men were traveling with those Indians. They were going toward the village of our enemies, the Shawnees.’’

Kichkinet paused and looked at his com¬ panions. For some moments they continued silent. At last Dan Holcombe spoke.

^‘Mebbe it was a war party of Shawnees mth white prisoners,^’ he said.

Kichkinet declared, emphatically. ‘‘Stands Alone says those white men were not prisoners. He says he followed their tracks a long ways. He says the white men moved away from the Indians many times. Then they came back. Prisoners would not do that.’’

“That’s proper figurin’,” agreed Holcombe.

“Stands Alone says he believes those Indians were Hurons, ’ ’ continued Kichkinet. ‘ ‘ He says he believes Ho-sa-ha-ho and that other white man are with them. He says he believes they were going to the village of the Shawnees. He says he believes much harm will come of it. My father feels bad about it. He sent me here to give you the words of Stands Alone. My father 6

KICHKINET BRINGS A CLUE told me to bring you to his lodge. He wishes to talk about this thing. Achawi, will you go to my father?’^

Jim glanced soberly at Holcombe. The latter smiled.

Jim, it ’pears like my guess warn’t so far off after all,” he laughed.

Jim nodded. Then he turned to Kichkinet.

‘ ‘ Mohawk, the French have sent both Indians and white men into the woods, ’ ’ he said. ‘ ‘ They often travel together. How does Stands Alone know that those white men were Ho-sa-ha-ho and his friend Stockley?”

‘^Stands Alone has sharp eyes,” declared Kichkinet. ^‘He looks close. Ho-sa-ha-ho has been to our village many times. Stands Alone has seen his tracks. Ho-sa-ha-ho turns one foot away from the trail. Stands Alone knows that track.”

^‘Han, it is true,” Jim told Holcombe. saw that track. I noticed it when Kichkinet and I were trailing Trouville and his friends from the Mohawk camp to the river at the time they stole my furs. Ha-yo-went-ha showed it to me, but I had forgotten it.”

‘‘That looks convincin’ agin’ Trouville, but what’s the proof agin’ Stockley?” inquired Holcombe.

‘‘Yes, Kichkinet, tell us how Stands Alone knows that the other white man was Stockley,’^ said Jim.

“My father did not tell me that,’’ replied Kichkinet. “Perhaps Stands Alone will tell you about it. ’ ’

“Kichkinet, I will go to talk with your father,” agreed Jim. “When the next sun ap¬ pears, we will set out for your village.”

“It is good,” said Kichkinet.

“Dan, I wish you to go with me,” Jim told Holcombe. “Perhaps we shall pick up a clew that will place us on the trail of the men who have committed these outrages along our bor¬ ders. If Trouville and Stockley are the leaders of those outlaws, we must run them down. If we succeed, I believe our troubles will come to an end.”

“Very likely,” agreed Holcombe. “How¬ ever, Trouville an’ his friends are sly wolves, an’ our trail is likely to be long an’ rough before we finally hole them up in their den. Anyway, Jim, it ’pears to me like we’ve struck a warm scent, an’ we’d best follow it.”

Jim left his companions and went to report to Colonel Bagley, the commanding officer at the fort. The officer listened attentively and 8

KICHKINET BRINGS A CLUE heartily approved Jim’s proposed visit to the Mohawk camp.

‘‘Mason, it looks like a clue, and I know you are wise enough to make the most of it. If you can run down the cowardly outlaws who are causing so much trouble along our frontiers you will render a great service to our people. I wish you the best of luck. If you require aid, send a courier, and I will send a strong force to your assistance.”

“Thank you. Colonel Bagley,” said Jim.

Jim returned to his quarters, and spent a large part of the night thinking upon the task which confronted him. He knew that if Jacques Trouville and his friends were the instigators of the savage attacks upon the settlements, he would find himself opposed by treacherous and determined foes whom it would be difficult to overcome.

Jacques Trouville, known among the Mo¬ hawks as Ho-sa-ha-ho, or Big Mouth, was a typical representative of the French-Canadian Coureurs de Bois,, a set of wild, lawless ad¬ venturers who were as wily, savage, and treach¬ erous as the warlike Hurons among whom they passed their time. Casting off the restraints of civilization, they adopted the life and customs of their Indian companions; adorning their 9 long black hair with eagle plumes, smearing their swarthy faces with bright colored pig¬ ments and decorating their buckskin shirts with the scalp locks of their foes. Untiring and fear¬ less, they penetrated far into the unexplored solitudes of the vast northern wilderness; guid¬ ing their frail canoes through the treacherous rapids of unknown rivers, and following cau¬ tiously along the shadowy forest trails that led to isolated Indian camps. No hardship was too severe, no peril too great for those daunt¬ less freebooters of the wilderness. Seated be¬ side their solitary camp fires, or accepting the hospitality of their Indian allies, they roared their rollicking woodland songs and dispelled the gloom of the night with their light-hearted laughter. Gay, impulsive, and improvident, they were true knights of adventure for whom the sacredness of home ties had no enticements. Loyal and generous to their friends, they were vengeful and merciless to their foes; and once their hatred was aroused, they were as perilous and bloodthirsty as wolves.

These were the men whom the French fur traders had employed to guard the precious cargoes of pelts on the long perilous voyages along the lakes and rivers of the northland. These were the men upon whom the French 10

KICHKINET BRINGS A CLUE commanders depended to lead their war parties of Pottawattomies, Ojibwas, and Hurons against the English frontiers. These were the men with whom Jim Mason and his rangers were about to clash.

Jim had encountered Jacques Trouville and his friends in the Mohawk village two years before. In league with one, Pierre La Valle, known in the Indian camps as Tor-yoh-ne, The Wolf, they were making crafty efforts to turn the Mohawks against the English and win them to an alliance with the French. Aware of their plans, Jim had set to work to expose their treachery, and after a number of perilous ad¬ ventures finally convinced the Mohawks that Tor-yoh-ne was a deceitful Huron spy.

The following year Jim, in company with Holcombe and Kichkinet, again encountered Tor-yoh-ne at Ticonderoga, but this time the treacherous half-breed was a bit too confident, and while attempting to capture them he met his death at the hands of Dan Holcombe.

Both Jacques Trouville and Stockley had been loyal friends of the rascally half-breed, and Jim felt certain that they would attempt to avenge his death. He believed that their bold and vicious raids along the English frontiers were made more to satisfy their savage desire 11 for vengeance than to aid the French in their efforts to demoralize and intimidate the coura¬ geous pioneers at the edge of the wilderness.

The thought roused him. He had witnessed the results of those treacherous attacks upon the frontiers; the smoking ruins of burning cabins; brave men lying dead in the clearings, where they had been shot down from ambush; the mangled forms of helpless women and chil¬ dren who had fallen victims to the murderous tomahawks of the maddened Hurons. The memories made his blood turn hot with anger. He believed that a great opportunity for service had presented itself, and he pledged himself to complete the difficult task to which Colonel Johnson had assigned him.

^Hf Trouville and Stockley are responsible for these atrocities, I shall search until I find their trail, and follow it until I run them to earth,’’ Jim declared, grimly.

Chapter II

AT daylight Jim and his companions set out XXupon their four days^ journey to the Mo¬ hawk camp. Jim stopped for a moment at the gate of the fort to give final instructions to his lieutenant, Bert Jackson, a stalwart young woodsman from Fort Johnson.

‘^Keep our men in the woods, and watch for war parties from Ticonderoga, ” Jim told him.

‘‘WeTl keep our eyes open,’’ said Jackson. ‘Hn the meantime. Captain, watch out for your¬ self. Like as not you’ll meet up with some o’ those rascals who are raidin’ the western set¬ tlements. ’ ’

“Nothin’ would suit us better,” Holcombe replied, savagely.

Jim nodded silent assent.

A moment afterward the three scouts turned away. They presented an interesting contrast as they moved rapidly along the trail.

Jim Mason was a tall, athletic young fron¬ tiersman of nineteen years, with bold brown eyes, long black hair and a dark complexion 13 that gave him somewhat the appearance of an Indian. He wore the familiar frontier costume of fringed buckskin hunting shirt and breeches, Indian moccasins, and a coonskin cap. His weapons were a long-barreled flint-lock rifle, a tomahawk, and a hunting knife. Powder horn and bullet pouch hung at his right side, and from his left shoulder was slung a fringed buck¬ skin bag containing flint and steel, and various necessities for life in the wilderness. His blanket was rolled and carried on his back.

Dan Holcombe was a rawboned, broad-shouldered man well advanced in years, but with every evidence of strength, agility, and en¬ durance. His face was tanned and seamed from long exposure to sun and wind, and his long hair was plentifully streaked with gray, but the calm gray eyes beneath his shaggy brows still retained their youthful luster. Holcombe, too, wore buckskins and a coonskin cap. He was armed with his beloved flint-lock rifle, an Indian tomahawk, and a skinning knife. He carried his blanket upon his back, and his powder horn and bullet pouch hung at his side.

Kichkinet, who was about the age of Jim, was a typical Mohawk warrior with the dignity and boldness of his race. His head was closely cropped, except for an erect, narrow crest of 14 hair which extended back from the center of his forehead and terminated in an ornamented scalp lock on his crown. His flashing black eyes gave character and animation to his stem, impassive face. He wore moccasins and buck¬ skin breeches, but was bare above the waist. A gaudy trade blanket was rolled into a pack be¬ tween his shoulders, and below it hung a wolf¬ skin case which held his bow and arrows. Tomahawk and skinning knife were secured be¬ neath his rawhide belt, and a small buckskin bag containing his fire sticks hung at his side.

Jim had met Kichkinet at Fort Johnson two years before, and from that day a strong and loyal friendship existed between them. Kich¬ kinet was the son of Ha-yo-went-ha, a famous Mohawk chief, and he had rendered valuable assistance while Jim was attempting to win the Mohawks for the English. The young fron¬ tiersman, and the Mohawk had shared many perilous adventures, and each had learned to admire the courage and ability of the other.

The scouts passed around the southern end of the lake, and soon came upon the familiar trail that led westward toward the village of the Mohawks. They followed the trail to the top of the first high hill, and then they stopped to enjoy the glorious panorama of woods and 15 waters that lay before them. It was a bright balmy day in mid-October, and the wilderness was resplendent with its gay antumnal tints. The sky was blue and cloudless, and a misty purple haze hovered above the hills. Below them was the great lake, calm and brooding, like some rare gem of the wilderness, its placid depths reflecting the brilliant colors of the for¬ est that rimmed its shores. It extended far away into the north where it contracted to a narrow twisting stream that led still farther northward into the stronghold of the French. All about it was the vast primeval wilderness, glorious with the vivid coloring of the hard¬ woods and the dark, somber beauty of the ever¬ greens. The sober brown tones of oaks showed forth in striking contrast with the golden leaves of aspens and birches and the flaming foliage of maples and sumacs. All blended their tints in a pleasing harmony of color which transformed the landscape into a fairyland. The scouts studied it in silent appreciation. It was some time before they spoke.

‘‘This is a glorious time of the year,” said Jim.

“It shore is purty,” agreed Holcombe.

“It is the time when Ha-wen-ne-yu smokes the great Peace Pipe,’’ Kichkinet told them.

‘ ^ See, he is puffing the smoke over the hills and into the valleys to drive away the Evil Ones, and make the world good for his children/’

Jim nodded. He recalled the Indian legend which related how Ha-wen-ne-yu, the Good Spirit of the Mohawks, each autumn lighted his great Peace Pipe and puffed smoke over the earth to drive away fogs and pestilence, and bring health and happiness for his children— the Mohawks. As Jim studied the smoky haze above the hiU tops he suddenly perceived the significance of the simple faith which was ex¬ pressed in the Indian legend.

‘‘Dan, our friends the Mohawks, have many beautiful thoughts,” he told Holcombe.

“They’re powerful superstitions,” replied Holcombe.

“What I have told you is true,” Kichkinet said, quickly.

“Come, we must move on,” Jim told them.

The trail turned down the westerly slope of the hill, and followed the edge of a large swamp. Then it led away into the silent, dark solitudes of the wilderness. It was the highway over which the Mohawks had passed for many years on their visits to the great woodland lake upon which the English had established their fort.

The Mohawk village was four days’ journey to the westward, and the scouts realized that until they reached it they would be in constant peril of an encounter with their foes. Besides the Hurons, the Ojibwas, and the Pottawattomies from the northern wilderness, there were rov¬ ing war parties of Shawnees and Delawares who had been enticed to take the war trail in behalf of the French. The powerful Iroquois, however, remained faithful in their alliance with the English colonists. The tribes of the great Indian League were a formidable bar¬ rier in the way of the French, who were mak¬ ing desperate efforts to sweep it from their path.

The strongly fortified villages of the Iroquois, which were scattered through the wilderness for many leagues to the westward, offered ef¬ fective and invaluable protection to the colonial frontiers. If the Iroquois were overcome, the French would find an easy and unobstructed way to the English settlements. Jim was fully alert to the peril. He was eager, therefore, to reach the Mohawk camp at the earliest possible moment, for he felt quite certain that if Jacques Trouville and his companions had gone to the Shawnees, as the Mohawks suspected, a peri¬ lous plot of some sort was in the making.

‘^Yes, Jim, if what the Mohawks say is true, it looks like Trouville an’ his gang are out for mischief,” Dan Holcombe said, soberly. “It’s more than friendship that leads ’em to the Shawnee camp.”

“It is bad,” declared Kichkinet.

At midday they stopped to drink at a little mountain stream, and eat a small ration of jerked venison which they had brought from the fort. Then they continued toward the west. Game was abundant, but Jim and Holcombe feared to shoot lest the report of a rifle might betray them to their foes. Kichkinet, however, killed several grouse with his arrows.

“A quiet trail leads to long life an’ happi¬ ness, ’ ’ laughed Holcombe.

“All appears calm and peaceful,” replied Jim.

“We’ve scarce gone far enough to bump into trouble,” Holcombe reminded him.

At sunset they arrived at a familiar camp site, where Jim and his Mohawk scouts had camped on their way to Lake George several months before. A small spring bubbled up at the base of a mossy ledge, and as the spot was secluded in a dense stand of timber, they de¬ termined to remain there for the night. After 19 a careful reconnaissance to make sure that the locality was free of foes, they made a little fire of dried sticks and broiled the grouse.

‘^We’d best get through with the fire before dark,’’ cautioned Holcombe. little fiame

shows up considerable at night. ’ ’

Kichkinet nodded.

A few moments afterward he left them and disappeared into the woods. He moved cau¬ tiously along the trail over which they had come, to learn if they had been followed. It was the usual precaution when the Mohawks found themselves in close proximity to their foes. Darkness had already fallen when Jim and Hol¬ combe heard the soft, querulous call of the little red owl. They recognized it as a signal from Kichkinet. A moment later the Mohawk re¬ joined them.

‘^My brothers, everything is good,” he said.

‘‘Mebbe so, but we’ll take no chances,” said Holcombe.

‘^Correct,” agreed Jim. Kichkinet and 1 will watch. ’ ’

‘H’ll take my turn,” Holcombe told him.

‘^No, Dan; Kichkinet and I will keep the night watches, until we reach the Mohawks. ’ ’

‘‘Lad, you make me feel old,” Holcombe laughed, uneasily. “However, I’ll wager I can 20 do with less sleep than either of you young roosters.’^

‘‘I have little doubt of that/’ Jim assured him. ^‘In an emergency I shall not hesitate to call upon you. ’ ’

‘^All right—Captain,” Holcombe said, mis¬ chievously.

‘‘Yes, Mr. Holcombe,” replied Jim.

“Hi, that’s a quick comeback,” chuckled Dan. “Well, good night, Jim.”

“Good night, Dan,” Jim said, cordially. “Now, Mohawk, I will watch; sleep until I call you. ’ ’

“Good,” agreed Kichkinet.

Holcombe and Kichkinet drew their blankets about them and lay down to sleep. Jim seated himself against a massive pine and began his lonely vigil. The heavy stand of towering ever¬ greens shut out the light from the stars, and the forest was black and still. Jim was barely able to distinguish the forms of his friends, who were lying within bow length of him. It was not long, however, before the heavy breathing of Holcombe gave evidence that the veteran scout was sleeping soundly. The Mohawk was silent.

As the night wore on, and he heard nothing to arouse his suspicions, Jim gradually relaxed 21 his vigilance. He listened sleepily to the soft soughing of the wind in the pine tops, and his eyes grew heavy. Several times he found him¬ self nodding drowsily. He rose to his feet and spread his arms to rouse himself. At that mo¬ ment he caught the sound of a stealthy footfall. It was close at hand. Instantly alert, Jim seized his rifle and peered anxiously into the night. For some moments all was still. Then, as he again heard the sound, he moved cau¬ tiously toward Holcombe and Kichkinet. Both were in their places. Jim touched the Mohawk. Kichkinet immediately sat up. A moment af¬ terwards Holcombe raised himself. Both kept silent, fearing to speak until they learned the danger which threatened them. Jim stooped, and whispered his warning.

‘‘Something is moving—^listen,he cau¬ tioned.

Kichkinet and Holcombe slipped from their blankets and rose to join him. Then for many moments the three scouts stood close together, watching and listening for further evidence of the mysterious prowler. The sounds had ceased. They heard nothing but the soft rus¬ tling of the wind in the pines. Still they con¬ tinued to listen. It was a long time before they ventured to speak.

‘‘What was it?’’ Holcombe asked, softly.

“It sounded like some one moving around us,” Jim told him.

He had barely finished speaking when they heard a shrill, piercing scream a short distance to the northward. They recognized it as the hunting cry of the lynx, but there was some¬ thing about it that aroused their suspicions.

“Somethin’ wrong thar, sure,” declared Hol¬ combe.

“Yes, Han, I believe it was counterfeit,” agreed Jim. “Mohawk, how do you feel about it?”

“Bad,” said Kichkinet.

They had little doubt that the cry had been a signal. The thought disturbed them. The sounds which Jim had heard suddenly assumed greater significance. Had some wily scout found their camp? The question suggested it¬ self to each of them. Holcombe was first to speak.

“Jim, it looks like some one has found us,” he said.

“Listen,” cautioned Jim.

The lynx cry again echoed through the night. This time they felt certain that it was counter¬ feit. In a few moments it was repeated. Then all was still. Convinced that the call had been 23 a signal, the scouts listened anxiously for a reply. Many moments passed. There was no response.

‘‘Dan, what do you make of it?’’ inquired Jim.

“I don’t like it,” declared Holcombe. “That lynx cry warn’t genooine, I’m plumb sartin of that,**

“So am I,” said Jim.

“Then it must have been a signal,” Hol¬ combe told him. “You heard some one snoopin’ around us. Your ears are sharp, an’ you know human footsteps when you hear ’em. I’m takin’ your judgment on that, Jim.”

“It was not an animal,” Jim assured him.

“It’s quite likely that some French scout was pokin’ around these parts an’ saw or smelled our fire,” said Holcombe. “After dark he prowled over here to find out about it. YTiat he saw, we can’t tell. However, I believe it was him that made the signal. Thar’s three of us, an’ he yelped three times. Sort of looks sus¬ picious like, don’t it Jim? Anyway, I believe we’d best mosey away from here.”

“Dan, I believe you are right,” Jim told him. “If we have been discovered, it would be folly to remain. Mohawk, do you agree ? ’ ’

“Achawi, we must go,” replied Kichkinet.

‘^Pretty soon our enemies will come here to find us/^

They rolled their blankets and moved silently away through the night. Kichkinet led, and Jim and Holcombe followed close behind him. They had gone barely a bowshot when Kich¬ kinet turned from the narrow trail and began a detour through the woods.

‘‘The Mohawk has the right idee,’^ chuckled Holcombe. “If our enemies find that weVe slipped away from ’em they’ll try to come up with us somewhar’ along the trail. Our job is to keep far enough from it to fool ’em.”

“Exactly,” agreed Jim.

They went a considerable distance toward the south before they turned and resumed their journey into the west. Then, when the night was three fourths gone, they turned back toward the trail. It led through a wide, open valley with which they were familiar, and at daylight they stopped on a low wooded ridge. They believed that if foes had attempted to overtake them along the trail, they might return over the same route when their search proved futile.

“In that case we shall have a look at them,” said Jim.

“You’d best get a few winks of sleep,” Hol- 25 combe told him. ‘‘The Mohawk an' I will do the lookin'."

“All right Dan," laughed Jim. “Call me if you see anything interesting."

“For sartin," replied Dan.

It was only a few moments until Jim was sleeping soundly. Holcombe and Kichkinet seated themselves to watch the trail. Shortly after sunrise they discovered a company of men coming from the west. Kichkinet awakened Jim.

“Achawi, some one is coming," he said.

They joined Holcombe who was intently watching the strangers. There were six in the company, and they were Indians. As they ad¬ vanced rapidly along the trail in single file, Kichkinet attempted to identify them.

“They are not my people," he said.

“Then they are enemies," declared Jim.

“Mohawk, who are they?" Holcombe in¬ quired, impatiently.

At that moment Kichkinet looked anxiously toward the top of the ridge. He placed his finger across his lips to caution his companions to silence. They heard voices. Some one ap¬ peared to be approaching along the ridge. The scouts sank to the ground and watched a small opening in the timber directly above them.