.izes he is in deadly peril. He decides
MEYERSDALE COMMERCIAL, THURS,, FEBRUARY 28, 1929
The Red.
A Romance of
* HueH PENDEXTER |
- tHustrations
by
lawin Myers
THE STORY
)
CHAPTER I—Impoverished by the
open-handed generosity of his father,
Virginia gentleman, young Webster
Brond is serving as a scout and s)y
for the army under General Braddock
preparing for the advance on Fort
uquesne, He has just returned to
Alexandria from a visit to the fort,
svhere, posing as a Frenchman, he has
secured valuable information. Brad-
{dock, bred to European warfare, fails
to realize the importance of the news.
Brond is sent back to Fort Duquesne,
jaiso bearing a message to George
Croghan, English emissary among the |
Indians. |
CHAPTER 11.—Brond joins his friend
and fellow scout, Round Paw, Indian
chief, and they set out. On the way ®
ithey fall in with a typical backswoods- .
man, Balsar Cromit, who joins them.
The party encounters a group of set-
tlers threatening a young girl, Elsie
Dinwold, whom they accuse of witch-
craft. Brond saves her from them. The
girl disappears.
! CHAPTER II11—Webster delivers his
message to Croghan, who expresses un-
easiness at the apathy of the Indians
|
|
|
to the English @ause. Young Col
George Washington rescues Brond
from bullying nglish soldiers. He
worsts. a bully .n a fight, and finds
Elsie Dinwold. Brond is sent on a
scouting ‘expedition to Fort Duquesne,
and leaves with Round Paw. Cromit
Joins them.
CHAPTER 1V—They find a French
scouting party besieging an old cabin
‘defended apparently by a single man.
Brond and Cromit make their way to
the cabin. The “man” is Elsie Dinwold.
{A French officer and an Indian break
‘in the door. Cromit kills the Indian and
iBrond takes the Frenchman alive. Elsis
escapes during the fight. Brond’s cap-
tive is Lieutenant Beauvais. The scout
sends him as a prisoner, with Cromit,
to Braddock’s camp, again taking his
way to Duquesne, and to seek Elsie.
CHAPTER V—Carrying out his plan
to enter the fort unquestioned, Btond
‘resolves to visit an Indian town which
‘a woman sachem, Allaquippa, controls.
She is friendly to the English. The
scouts, as French, are plainly unwel-
come to Allaguippa. Brond meets a
‘French officer, Falest, whom he had
‘known at Duquesne. Falest is there
to win over Allaquippa to the French
lcause, but he fails.’ To his astonish-
ment, Brond finds Elsie Dinwold,
dressed as a man, under Allaquippa’s
protection. The girl tells him she has
‘found the English cruel, and is going
'to the French. Unable to dissuade her,
.Brond tells her of his mission to Du-
quesne, and she promises not to be-
tray him. They learn Beauvais has es-
caped from Cromit and is on his way
to Duquesne. Brond realizes he must be
stopped. '
CHAPTER VI—Cromit comes to
Brond while he is waiting to inter-
cept Beauvais, and tells him he has
killed the Frenchman after he had es-
caped from him. Round Paw joins
them, and the three return to Alla-
quippa’s town. Cromit has brought dis-
quieting news of the demoralization
of Braddock’s army, none of the Eng-
!1ish officers understanding woods fight-
and Braddock fiercely resernting
advice of the “Provincials.” Cromit,
geparated from his two friends, is wel-
comed by Allaquippa as an English-
‘man. Leaving him to carry news to the.
English army, Brond and Round Paw
reach Duquesne. Brond is made “wel-
come, Beaujeu, commander of the fort,
believing him a loyal Frenchman. He
learns Beauvais is not dead; Cromit
having killed Falest, taking him for
‘the other French officer, Brond real-
"to get away at once, and tells Elsie,
who has come to the fort with Beau-
vais, but it is too late.
CHAPTER VIl—At a dinner given
by Beaujeu te his officers Brond is
recognized and denounced by Beauvais
as an English spy. He is rescued by
Round Paw. With the Indian,
Elsie, Brond escapes by the river, Elsie
‘having destroyed all the canoes she
could reach, to delay pursuit. Leaving
the water, Brond sends Round Paw
| with a message to the army warning
of danger of ambush if they take the
«purtle Creek” route to the fort. Then,
with Elsie, a great handicap to swift
traveling, he takes a different route to
the army, in the hope that either Round
Paw, Cromit,' or himself, will
‘through safely .with the warning.
. CHAPTER VII1—Brond realizes a
party ef pursuing indians is on their
trail. The girl, having reached the
/ limit of her endurance, has to be car-
‘riled by Brond. They make for the
cabin of a trader, Frazier, hoping with
his help to stand off pursuers. Reach-
ing the cabin safely, they find Frazier
laway, but Elsie helps greatly in the
‘defense of the place. They succeed in
beating oft the attacking Indians, and
during a heavy rain, which saves them,
. “Elsie’'s bravery and loyalty
make a deep impression on Brond. In
|¥he woods they ‘meet a veteran Vir-
'ginia forest fighter, Stephen Gist, re-
turning from a scouting expedition.
CHAPTER IX—Gist repeats Cromit’'s
tale of demioralization aiong he Eng.
lars. oun aw Joins 1,
{HEN re reach the army Elsie
5 ignores, ‘ ’
of danger. Brond again meets
Sang Washington, who confesses
|pis misgivings of the success of the
expedition. Attacked in the forest by
practically invisible enemies, the Eng-
Bish regulars are thrown into con-
‘fusion. A disorderly retreat begins
‘when Braddock ‘is killed. Washington
and his Virginians hold back the en-
emy preventing annihilation. Brond
ands a place of safety for Elsie. Round
(Paw and Cromit are both killed, Brond,
badly wounded, escaping with the
other fugitives. He is unable to find
Elste in the confusion.
Brond recovers
and jgins jn ihe ge
¢ the frontier. The situation 1s
feng of ines until. General Forbes
way through to Duquesne.
Brond continues his search for
Elsie Dinwold, realizing he loves her,
and believing his love returned. In a
hamlet he finds one the men in
Ps]
o
se charge he had left the girl. He
7 Brond_ Elsie went to Alexandria, |
and Brond at once leaves for that city.
There, he meets “a boyhood friend,
Josephine Hewitt. She has befriended
Elsie and given her a home. Brond
geaks her, and finds a happy ending of |
hi uest when Elsie, in his arms,
i by “Oh,” mister. You've whit
back!”
SZ
7
A
Jr
If \ i
i bi !
ue th
naan |
“Our Brother Speaks With Wisdom,
Although It Sounds Like the Cold
Calculating Counsel" of an English-
man.
But it is true, messieurs, that many
of the Indians do not care whether
the dog eats the wolf, or the wolf eats
the dog. We cannot risk a split in
our red ranks. If the Shawnees steal
away to the Muskingum and Graves’
creek, then we may expect to behold
the lake tribes leaving for the north
without lifting an ax.
to believe it will be better to leave
Allaquippa’s town alene.
“If Our Lady’s intercession should
give us a victory over Braddock, the
task of pacifying the English Leni-
Lenape will be easier if there be no
bones of their warriors for France to
cover. If it is fated that we lose, we
shall have our hands full in with-
drawing from this fort without hav-
ing to fight a rear-guard engagement
against infuriated neutrals. For I
solemnly assure you, messieurs. that
our own savages will be a problem
should we have to retire.
“Monsieur Beland, I rejoice that
you are here and have spoken as you
have. 1 only wish that Monsieur
Beauvais could join us and give his
views. He is a cool thoughtful man,
and, like yourself, would speak with-
out prejudice.”
It required several! rounds of wine
to restore us to a proper enthusiasm.
I felt a coolness on the part of my
two neighbors, although none at the
table openly disagreed with Beaujeu’s
decision. But de la Parade, who had
drunk extermination to the village.
was vastly more popular than I. Beau-
jeu’'s mention of Beauvais made my
back feel chilly, and my gaze wan-
dered frequently toward the open
door. And yet when I attempted to
decide just what I should do, did he
put in an appearance, ‘my mind re-
fused to work. It was as if my intel-
ligence were paralyzed. I was keenly
conscious of dreading his arrival but
was incapable of planning a defense.
There was a wild wish in my heart
that the Onondaga might discover the
truth and manage in some fashion to
intercept him. This. of course. was
not based on reagon. It did set me to
thinking about the Onondaga and the
Dinwold girl. I wondered if 1 had
been observed when walking and talk-
ing with her, and if, should I be ap-
prehended, she would be held to ac-
count. My only consolation was that
Beaujeu was a gentleman, and that
once she disclosed her sex, he would
not permit her to be harmed.
There remained the dangers of the
retreat to Canada. Pontiac never lost
an opportunity to advance himself!
Once he saw that the French were
whipped, I doubted his loyalty to the
Lilies. Looking back to those hectic
days in July, I am convinced I mis-
judged him. The events of the next
few years were to establish his never-
ending hostility to the’ Engli%h.
The dancers had quit the fire and
war-post >and were now leaping gro-
tesquely by the window, a swift shift-
ing string of distorted and monstrous-
ly painted faces, and a bewildering
flourishing of axes. Some of the axes
were painted red the better to ex-
emplify the wielders’ sanguinary. am-
bitions. As the savages pressed closer
to the building in passing in review,
we saw them only from the neck up.
and the “effect was that of detached
heads floating and bobbing by.
Then there came the sweetest strain
of music I ever heard although it was
produced by the guttural voice of a
most hideously painted creature, who
had concealed all suggestions of a hu-
man countenance by painting his face
with a series of circles in black, red
and white. His song was sweet in
I am forced,
my ears because he sang through the
open window the simple refrain:
“Ha-hum-weh. Ha-hum-weh.”
“‘] belong to the Wolf clan.
long to the Wolf clan.’ ”
Surely words were never more wel-
I be-
"come, I felt the tightness in my chest
give way: and I knew that Round
Paw of the Onondagas was on the
scene and ready to stand or fall with
me. Beaujeu, too, caught the song,
and remarked:
“That’s not a northern voice, nor
Shawnee, nor Leni-Lenape. It sounds
like a Mingo, and get it is different.”
“] was not giving much heed,” I
said. “It sounded like an Iroquois.
singing his Wolf song.”
Next we had a view of a Potawa-
tomi who brandished a war-club of
birch. The club was painted red and
black and was decorated with brass
pails. The arm holding the club
boasted of a badge of skunk-skin to
show the man had seized a wounded
enemy by the arm and had held him.
Three of the feathers in his hair were
notched, evidencing he had killed and
scalped as many foes, and there were
other feathers unnotched, indicating
he had scalped warriors slain by his
companions. For after the northern
fashion of counting coup four feath-
ers could be worn for the death of
each enemy slain—one by the man
who made the kill, one by the man
who took the scalp, and one by each
of the two men who might assist in
the scalping. This fellow remained
before the window long enough to
chant in a throaty voice:
«“<An eagle feather I see; a brave I
have caught. A wolf I see; a wolf I
have caught.’”
Beaujeu interpreted the song for
me.
about it had not the Onondaga soon
passed the window again, proving he
had not waited his turn, and pro-
claimed himself to be of the Wolf
clan. And directly following him re-
appeared the Potawatomi with his
boast of having caught a wolf. My
nerves began tightening. There was,
a sinister significance in the second
appearance of the two men. It was
plain that the Potawatomi was ex-
erting himself to keep at the heels of
my friend.
There was no time to worry over
the coincidence, however. I was con-
fident the Potawatomi, even if some-
thing had aroused his suspicions,
would never catch Round Paw off his
guard. The dancing suddenly ceased
and we noted that the framework of
the medicipe-lodge was up, and that
the wizards were rapidly covering it
with medicine-robes so as to shut off
all view of the interior except as the
small flap was pulled back and re-
vealed a small, square opening facing
our window,
Pontiac came through the doorway
and spoke to Beaujeu. The comman-
dant nodded, and explained to us:
“He says one of the Pctawatomi,
Little Wolf, wishes .to entertain us
with some magic.”
We settled back to enjoy the jug-
clery, but my. nerves gave a jump
when in Little Wolf 1 recognized the
dancer who had said he had caught a
wolf. He halted near the table and
eyed us all steadily. I imagined his
gaze rested a trifle longer on me than
on the others, but set it down to my
being a ranger.
Beaujeu rose and handed him a
glass of wine and spoke first in the
Ottawa tongue and then in French,
saying:
“Little Wolf is a mighty wizard.
When the medicine-lodge is ready he
will call the ghosts to talk to us. They
will tell us how to strike an ax into
the English.” \
Little Wolf refused the wine and
glanced about until he had located
the brandy. He stretched out his hand
for the stronger drink and Beaujeu
threw out the wine and accommo-
dated him. Tossing off the brandy,
he placed his bow and arrow on a
small side-table and: turned his back
on us and made much business of ex-
amining the contents of the bag.
When he faced about, he had a long
knife in his hand. This he proceeded
to swallow up to the hilt. So far as
I could observe the blade went down
his throat.
From his belt the wizard next pulled
a long arrow and apparently thrust it
down: his throat up to the feathers. I
had accepted the knife-swallowing as
being genuine, for I had seen a white
man do it; but the barbed arrow I
could not accept. Beaujeu whispered
to me:
“Little Wolf is a cunning rogue.
The reed shaft is made of short sec-
tions which are driven together when
he holds the barb between his teeth
and presses down. But applaud. him
generously. Should he make the
Voice in the lodge tell the Indians
not to fight against, Braddock, we
would find ourselves without a red
force.”
We clapped our hands and pressed
them to our lips, and Little Wolf was
much pleased. Picking up the bow
and red-tipped arrow, he sang a song
in which were repeated several times,
“Scarlet is its head.”
I became keenly interested when,
after a slight pause he fiercely shout-
ed: “It finds its way into a Wolf.”
He held the arrow so those staring
in at the window might look on it,
and among the spectators was the
circle-covered visage of Round Paw.
The wizard had uttered a threat three
times during the last hour, and a
“wolf” was always the victim. The
dead bear had been accepted as a
symbol for Braddock’s army.
I did not believe the sachem meant
the English when he promised death
to a wolf. But I was convinced that
the fellow for some,reason intended
harm to the Onondaga. There must
be a logical cause for this professed
I would have thought nothing
enmity, and naturally I believed my
friend hdd incurred suspicions. I
dared not attempt a signal although I
did’ glare into the Onondaga's eyes.
Little Wolf gathered up his belong-
ings to retire, but Beaujeu detained
him by inquiring:
“Why does not the great wizard
shoot the medicine-arrow into the
wolf now?” :
The Onondaga allowed two braves
to crowd in from each side so only his
head partly showed between theirs.
“A ghost in the medicine-lodge will
shoot it. It will find its way to the
Wolf.”
Those at the window were very
quiet, their eyes glowing as they be-
gan to sense a dramatic climax.
“Onontio’s sons wish to see the ar-
row when it finds its mark,” insisted
Beaujeu. He too had detected some
significance in the fellow’s mysterious
talk.
“Onontio’s sons cannot see the
ghost. Only medicine-eyes can see
that. Their eyes can see the arrow
when it goes through the Wolf's neck.
Their eyes can see that without their
moving from their places.”
We crowded closer together so that
all might have a fair view of the
lodge, and the savages at the window
drew aside. A fire was lighted on each
side of the lodge so as to illuminate
brilliantly the front of the structure.
Beaujeu whispered:
“Little. Wolf. is now inside. But
name of the devil! What did he mean
about his arrow finding a wolf? One
can never tell how the red mind is
working.” ;
‘He may have an enemy he wishes
to kill and credit the Killing to a
ghost,” 1 suggested.
Maybe. I hope not. If their minds
start running away with them they'll
outrun a.wblf-pack in getting back to
their northern villages. However, it
can’t be serious. Pontiac must know
what he meant and approves; and
Pontiac is one leader 1 will count on.”
The drum thudded monotonously for
two or three minutes, gradually in-
creasing ‘in volume, then abruptly
ceasing. A weak voice, talking in the
language of the Delaware, called out:
“What do my children want? Why
do .my children call me back to this
lodge? I am the first of your grand:
fathers. You have called me over a
long path.”
There followed the shrill voice of
a woman, but in a tongue 1 did not
understand. Next the wizard’s voice,
husky and labored, entered the dia-
logue, and in Delaware he asked:
“O Grandfather of all the red peo-
ple, tell us of the Ingelishman. Is he
strong? Will he fight strong? Will
your children be struck in the head?”
“The answer to that can easily spoil
-all my plans!” gritted Beaujeu.
The medicine-lodge rocked and
swayed as if buffeted by a mighty
wind. Discordant noises arose—evil
forces striving to prevent the Voice
from answering. There sounded the
barking of dogs and the scream of the
panther and the piping wail of a
child. A fearful visage showed for
an instant at the small opening and
was succeeded by another. Then with
a single booming note from the medi-
cine-drum silence returned to the
lodge. After a few moments the weak
voice of the first 'of all grandfathers
spoke, saying: "
“Little Wolf is a mighty wizard. He
drives away the black spirit that
wants to stop my mouth. I am the
first of your grandfathers. I tell you
this—the floor of the forest will be
red with the blood of the Ingelish.
The Manito fs angry to see his red
children losing their villages and
land. Let the arrow find the false
Wolf and then go into battle without
fear.”
Silence again, and Beaujeu wiped
the sweat from his brows and mut-
tered:
“Nom de Dieu! What deviltry is
_he up tn? It’s some of Pontiac's work.
He should have told me first. Getting
a fight out of the Indians is condi-
tional on their killing the ‘false wolf.’
Monsieur Beland, | fear you are right.
Little Wolf has a rival. If so he must
kill him, or else the flag of France
must be lowered.”
He became silent as from the lodge
came the voice of Little Wolf. It
sounded very weak and we had to
strain our ears to catch his words.
Panting for breath he calied out:
“The Voice is very far away. I can
hear it, my brothers cannot. It rests
but will come very soon— Wait. The
little white dog is barking. He is lead-
ing the voice back.”
Another pause and then we heard
the yelping and ki-yiing of a puppy.
Then came the voice, this time sound-
ing much louder. It commanded:
“Have the warriors who danced
about the war-post pass around the
lodge four times, and let each ask
himself if he is a true man.”
“Ah] Now it develops. Soon there
will be a killing,” hissed St. Therese.
There followed more shaking and
swaying of the lodge. Poutiac’s voice
rang out, calling on the dancers to
fall in line and begin circling the
lodge and for men with straight
tongues to fear nothing. Painted faces
in profile began passing the window.
Each savage kept his face averted
from the lodge and each seemed to
step in greater haste when abreast of
the small opening. I sought the Onon-
daga in the long line, but failed to
behold him. I took note of the first
man to pass the window, and when
he appeared for the second time there
sounded a gurgling cry from the in-
terior of the lodge, after which the
des flapped and fluttered violently
and the long-drawn-out howl of a wolf
took. the place of the puppy’s yapping.
The savages quickened their pace un-
til they were moving almost on* a
run. The barking of the little white
dog came back, followed by a deep
voice chanting:
“Ha-hum-weh !”
1 held nly breath and waited for the
climax, whatever it might be. Beau-
jeu whispered: -
“I think it is our friend, who stands
at the door talking with the young
Englishman with the French heart.
The young man is timid. He will not
come in unless strongly urged. Ah!
Excellent. It is our friend, the good
Beauvais. He presses the young man
to enter. When this damnable march-
ing and yowling stops I will call out
for the stranger to join us and be-
come better acquainted.”
1 turned my head slowly, my heart’
thumping like an Indian drum. Beau-
vais stood with his back to us. He
was speaking very earnestly to the
Dinwold girl, one hand resting on her
slim shoulder. He was trying to in-
duce her to enter and she was striving
to detain him. I gathered my feet un-
der me and made ready to leap over
the table and to trust to luck in plung-
ing through the window and into the
red mob. Beauvais straightened and
removed his hand from the girl's
shoulder and started to turn about
and enter the room. The girl seized
his arm and frantically essayed to
hold him back. He was motionless
for a moment, as if amazed at her
action; then shook off her grasp and
stepped backward through the door.
The Onondaga’s terrible war-whoop
jerked my gaze to the window. The
front of the lodge bulged far out, and
the Frenchmen, as well as I, exclaimed
in' astonishment as a fluttering mass of
something that looked to be neither
beast nor human, emerged from the
structure and dashed through the fire-
light and came flying through the
window.
A startled cry at the door caused
‘my head to swing in that direction.
Beauvais, now glaring at the table,
was pointing a finger and yelling:
“Seize the Englishman! Braddock’s
spy 1”
Several things were happening
simultaneously which I can narrate
only as separate incidents. My com-
paions sat stupefied as Beauvais called
out, for even as he was sounding the
alarm the muffled figure from the
lodge rushed toward him and with a
swing of a blanket extinguished the
candles on that side of the room.
“The English spy!” hoarsely called
Beauvais, and then went down with a
“The English Spy.”
crash as the muffled figure bowled
him i ig? with a quick turn raked
the candles from the wall behind me,
leaving the illumination of the room
confined to the light from the fires
outside.
Beaujeu’s brain resumed working.
“Treachery!” he screamed.’
I heard his chair tip over as he
sprang to his feet. But none at the
table knew wherein lay tHe treachery
as was proved by the failure of the
company to lay hands on me. Or pos-
sibly all were so dumfounded they
could not for the moment take intel-
ligent action. Something crashed
against my chair, and over went the
table. 1 felt a muscular arm slip
around my waist. A blanket fell over
my head. The next moment we were
tumbling through the window and into
the midst of the pandemonium now
reigning outside. 1 freed my face
enough to se the Indians scattering
and falling back from the lodge. Pon-
tiac’s voice was thundering:
“Surround the lodge!” But there
was none among his followers who
dared to draw close to the sacred
structure.
My conductor pressed heavily on my
shoulder and we went to our knees
and crawled under a flap of the lodge,
and the light from the fires in front
briefly revealed the distorted face ot
Little Wolf. His red medicine-arrow
was through his throat, the head and
several inches of the shaft showing
under his left ear.
“Ha-hum-weh!”
chanted my res-
‘cuer.
The red arrow had been discharged
in the medicine-lodge even as Little
Wolf had prophesied, and it had found
its way into a wolf, but not into the
man of the Wolf clan as I had feared.
We had no time to linger. From the
uproar outside, 1 assumed that the
Indians were still bewildered and be-
lieving that the startling appearance
of the muffled figure outside the lodge
and its flight through the window was
but the workings of the wizard’s
manito.
Even now, with the Frenchmen
stumbling about in the commandant’s
house and calling for lights, ‘with
! Beauvais madly shouting that there
N
\
of heavy bodies dropping over the
stockade. There came an explosion
of mad rage that made my heart
wince. The Onondaga proudly in
formed us:
“They have found Little Wolf in the
lodge. I crept under the wall and
‘shot him with his own arrow. He
Page Seven
was an English spy inside the stock- | furnished the Onondaga with a double
ade, and with Pontiac darting among |
the terrified red men and fiercely ex- |
horting them to catch my friend the |
Onondaga, we yet had time to take
advantage of the confusion and make
off into the darkness that encroached
up to the rear of the lodge. Round |
’aw pulled the blanket ove: my head
and drew his own covering closer, and
seizing my arm raised the rear wall
and pushed me before him.
“Run fast!” he hissed.
water-gate !”
Pontiac’s voice thundered a
mand. The Onondaga muttered:
“The Ottawa chief tells his children
to watch the gates and the stockade
and kill anyone trying to get out.”
Once outside the lodge and we ‘were
in darkness. Thirty yards away and
we had lost ourselves in a wild crowd
of savages. But as we pressed on
Pontiac’s stentorian voice gradually
reached an intelligence here and
there; and from different points and
in all the dialects of the northern and
Ohio tribes, the word was passed to
guard the stockades and gates.
“Take the man Beland alive!” roared
a voice; and I knew that Beauvias at
last had connected my identity up
with my French name and that Beau-
jeu now understood all.
“Why this way?’ I asked the Onon-
daga as we reached the stockade on
the river front.
“Stand on my shoulders, white
brother, and go over,” he direeted.
“There’s the witch-woman—"
“She's on the other side. Shall we
join her, or face about and die like
chiefs?”
1 scrambled to his shoulders and
went to the top of the timbers. I
reached down-a hand, but scorning all
assistance Round Paw swarmed over
the barrier. The two of us dropped
to the ground within a few feet of the
river.
It was very dark and I was com-
pletely bewildered.
“This way, mister,”
voice.
The Onondaga dragged me after
him. My hand resetd on a canoe.
“Who's there?” I whispered.
“Daughter of witches,” was the half-
»To the
com
called a low
laughing, hall-sobbing reply. “But
please don’t stop to talk, mister.”
{it was time I scrambled into the
canoe, for a chorus of yells was now
raised on the other side of the stock-
ade and only a few feet away. |
tripped over a rifle as the Onondaga
pushed the light craft into the cur-
rent. [ picked it up and found it
familiar to my hands.
“Whese rifle is this?” I whispered.
“Hush !” cautioned the girl. Then
proudly, “It’s yours. 1 was at the
door when the trouble began. 1
reached in and took it when Mr. Beau-
vais commenced calling you a spy.”
“Talk will kill us,” grunted the On-
ondaga as he pushed a paddle into
my hands and began working des
perately to reach the slack water along
the opposite bank. His warning was
timely for I could hear the plop, plop
made a choking noise. The Wolf man
thought some of those outside would
know the truth. There was Pontiac
He talks with ghosts and they tell
him secrets. It was he who told Lit
tle Wolf to kill me. Pontiac saw me
at Detroit and knew my heart was
warm for the English. Little Wolf
was to shoot me through the hole in
the robes when I danced by. If my
white brother had not been in‘ @an-
ger, 1 should have shot Pontiac after
telling him to march by with the
others.”
“They are over the wall; they will
take canoes and follow as!” I warned.
“Mister, I spoiled all the canoes 1
could find before going to the house
where you was eating. They can’t
catch us with boats.” A
“You have done well, little woman.
What does*Round Paw do now?”
We were at the opposite shore.
“We will go up the river instead of
down,” he answered. “They will think
we went down te the Ohio. If the
man Beauvais had not come we would
have shown them some new magic.”
“You knew about Beauvais!” 1
asked Round Paw.
“The witch-woman told me. She
asked my help. She waited outside
the house to Stop Beauvais from see-
ing you. It was the witch-woman who
said we would leave by water. She
was to be outside the stockade by the
water-gate. She has a very strong
medicine.”
“So it was you who saved me, little
woman,” | said to her.
“Lor’s sake! Don’t believe nothing
that Injun tells you. He saved you;
not me. And now I can’t go to Can-
ada.”
“Wait until after the war. It will
be a short war,” I told her, little real
izing my fallability as a prophet.
“We must leave the river before the
first light,” spoke up the Onondaga.
“Pontiac will lead the chase. He is
a very great man. He knows we took
to water. He will send men along
both shores to find where our trail
leaves the river. He will throw many
men between us and Braddock. If the
witch-woman takes to the air and flies
like a bird, then Round Paw and his
brother can walk slowly and laugh at
the wild Ottawas.”
He was disappointed when 1 told
him the girl could not fly like a bird
and that any plans we made must in-
clude her. 1 told him of my efforts
to shield Allaquippa’s village from at-
tack and expressed my fear that Beau-
vais would now do the thing 1 had
convinced him he should not do. This
.
errand to the Delaware village: he
must warn the woman sachem and tell
Cromit to carry my warning to the
army that the Turtle Creek route,
though rough, would be free from suc-
cessful ambuscades.
“You will take the same talk, but
separate from the bonebreaker,” I
added. “The woman and I will leave
you at the mouth of Turtle creek and
follow it up for a bit and seek the
army in that direction. Surely cne of
the three of us men will take the talk
through to Braddock.”
CHAPTER VIII
Our Orendas Are Strong
Half a mile below the mouth of
Turtle creek the Monongahela grew
very shallow with scarcely more than
a ripple of water in places. The
three of us held a brief conference
and decided that Round Paw should
CONTINUED NEXT WEEK
Sunlight Not So
Vital for Cows
Rays Have Remarkably
Beneficial Effect on Chicks,
Pigs and Goats.
With the development of knowl-
edge that light plays an important
part in the retention of minerals fed to
animals, the question naturally arose,
“Does exposure of dairy cows to sum-
mer sunshine enable them to obtain
and utilize from the pasture grasses
sufficient lime to keep them on a posi-
tive lime basis?”
Effects of the Sun.
To answer this very practical query
Messrs. Hart and Steenbock carried
on careful experiments in June, when
the protective properties of the sun
are at a peak, using cows giving 45
to 60 pounds of milk daily. The cows
were fed a grain mixture, silage, and
40 pounds daily of freshly cut green
grass. This approximates what would
be given cows of this character on bet-
ter dairy farms. The results indicated
that this ration was insufficient to
keep the cows on a positive lime basis.,
In fact, there was only a slightly im-
proved situation as concerns lime as-
similation when these cows were
placed in direct sunlight for six hours
daily as compared to standing in a
darkened barn. Apparently then, the
rays of the sun have a remarkably
beneficial effect on little chicks, pigs
and goats, but with dairy cows no
such positive benefits can be observed.
Cows Again Studied.
When these same cows were again
studied in September, after their milk
productien had dropped to 25 or 20
pounds of milk daily, lime balance was
maintained, even though the sunlight
at this season was less potent. It
seems apparent from these results that
the feeding of extra lime to nigh pro-
ducing dairy cows, while on summer
pasture, is a very desirable procedure.
It may very well ke true that the com-
monly noted falling off in milk pro-
duction in midsummer, on the part
of heavy milking dairy animals, may
be due to a depletipn of their lime re-
serves, just as muh as to the more
commonly attributed causes such as
heat and flies.
It has been coucluded that light
plays no role in the utilization of lime
by cows. Possibly this also explains
why younig calyes grow better when
kept in a barn, rather than out of
doors, as contraste¢ to young chicks,
little pigs, and oth2r young animals
which seem to demand sunlight as an
essential for normal growth.—Wiscon-
sin Agricultural Experiment Station.
Contagious Akortion Is
Most Dangerous Disease
Contagious aborticn is a germ dis-
ease which, if it is not controlled, will
go through an entire herd. The germs
are usually carried from the fetus, or
afterbirth, of a cow that has aborted,
to the feed of other cows which in
turn get the diseass. The best way
to control this diseuse is by cleanli-
ness, isolation and disinfection.
As soon as a cow shows any signs
of aborting she should be isolated
from the herd and kent separate until
all discharges have come away. The
stall must be cleaned and disin-
fected as well as the hind quarters of
the cow. The fetus and afterbirth
must be burned or buried, the manure
from the stall taken directly to a field
to which cattle have no access. Care
must be.taken not to carry the germs
of the disease from the stall where
an infected cow stunds to the feed of
other cows. These germs are usually
carried on the shoes of the attendant
and on forks.
There is no knows cure for this dis-
ease. All we can ds is to control it
by not carrying the germs to the feed
of other cows.
It is always advisable to employ a
competent veterinarian to help control
the disease. It will not pay to sell a
cow that bas &borted, since any new
cow coming into the herd will take
the disease.
8 Agriculturgl Notes
B®
Soy beans are an excellent hay sub-
stitute when clover or alfalfa fails.
Besides, soy beans are easily grown.
* = *
The length of time required for milk
to sour is a good measure of the clean-
| liness of the milk, the temperature pe-
ing constant.