# Marching on Niagara/Chapter 18
### CHAPTER XVIII
##### WILDCAT AND WATER

Dave was both startled and alarmed when the wildcat came down almost on top of his bare head, and even more frightened when the beast made a leap for his naked shoulder. He had had several experiences with wildcats and knew them to be both powerful and bloodthirsty.
By instinct more than reason he dived and went down as far as possible. As soon as the water closed over the wildcat's head it let go its hold and began to swim for the shore.
Henry was directly in the path of the beast and in a second more, ere the young soldier had time to think of diving, the wildcat was on his back, sinking its cruel nails deeply into his flesh.
"Get off!" screamed Henry. "Get off! Help! help!"
And then he went down, not because he thought of doing so, but because he could not bear the weight. The stream closed over him and he went directly to the bottom.
​This time the wildcat did not let go its hold. It clung desperately and when Henry tried to shake it off it only sunk its nails deeper into his flesh. Mechanically he started to scream, when the water rushed into his mouth, almost strangling him on the spot.
By this time Dave had reached the surface, and the rings and bubbles showed him plainly where Henry and the wildcat had gone down. With swift strokes he swam to the river bank, just as several rangers came running to the scene.
"Did you call for help?" asked one.
"A wildcat!" panted Dave, hardly able to speak, and he pointed out into the stream. "Sa—save my cousin!"
"So a cat has attacked him, eh?" said one of the rangers. He raised his gun. "Don't see anything of the critter."
Just as he finished speaking there was a splash in the water and the head of the wildcat appeared. Then up came Henry, and they saw that the beast still clung to the young hunter's back.
It was a risky shot to take, for youth and beast floundered around furiously. But something had to be done, and in a second one gun-shot rang out, followed quickly by another. The aims of both rangers had been true, and the wildcat was struck ​in the forequarter and in the head. With a snarl and a sputter it let go its hold of Henry and splashed madly around in the water.
No cry came from Henry, but as soon as the beast had let go its hold he sank beneath the surface once more, too weak to do anything toward saving himself.
"He'll be drowned!" muttered Dave. "Save him!" And without waiting he plunged in the river once more.
He felt deathly weak himself, but the thought that his cousin might be lost forever nerved him on. With set teeth he swam to the spot. Catching sight of Henry's arm as it was thrown up, he grabbed at the member and clung fast.
"Henry, hold to me," he managed to say, but his cousin paid no attention, for he was more than half insensible. Then Dave tried to raise him up, but the weight was more than he could sustain.
"Help us, somebody!" the young hunter managed to call out, and there followed a splash, as one of the rangers leaped into the river. Another shot rang out, a finishing one for the wildcat, and the carcass of the beast floated down the river and out of sight among the bushes lining the opposite bank.
By the time the ranger came up, Dave was nearly as far gone as Henry. The old soldier was a ​powerful fellow and easily brought both to the bank, which was only a short distance off. Here Dave sank down in a heap, while the other soldiers did what they could to revive Henry.
The report that a wildcat had attacked some bathers quickly spread throughout the camp and many flocked in that direction to learn the particulars. Both Dave and Henry were given the best of attention, and by the following morning each said he was able to resume his duties. But both were stiff from the treatment received from the wild beast and on Henry's neck were deep scratches which he was destined to carry with him to the grave.
"After this I'm going to be mighty particular where I bathe," he said to Dave, when on the march.
"Yes, and particular where you dive from," returned Dave. "If you see another wildcat on your spring-board better let him finish his nap without disturbing him."
The march to Cumberland was more difficult than had been anticipated, and the young soldiers were glad when it came to an end and they found themselves encamped just outside of the fort, which both had visited more than once when on a trip to Will's Creek. Soldiers were coming in from all directions, and soon the camp was full to overflowing.
​"Wonder how long we'll stay here," said Henry, after they had been at Cumberland over a week. "I had an idea we were to march straight on to Fort Duquesne."
"There is some trouble over that new road to the fort," answered Dave. "I understand Colonel Washington is awfully cut up over it. He thinks they ought to use the old Braddock road and polish up the Frenchmen in short order."
"It was the delay that brought on defeat before, that's certain, Dave. It's a pity the British generals won't take Washington's advice."
What Dave said about trouble over the road was true. The Braddock road, originally selected by the Indians, was as good as any to be had or made, yet despite all arguments against it, it was decided to cut a new road through to Fort Duquesne from Raytown. It was true such a road would be a little shorter than the old road, but to cut it would take all summer and to keep up the campaign during the winter would be well-nigh out of the question.
When a part of the colonial troops, including the company to which Dave and Henry were attached, reached Raytown they found the new road already started, with two hundred men engaged in cutting down trees, removing big stones, and burning brushwood. This was kept up week after week, and ​in the meantime the troops suffered greatly through sickness and lack of proper food. Many of the colonials grew disgusted at the slow progress of the campaign and would have gone home had not the military regulations forbidden it.
It was in the midst of this that Sam Barringford came in and hunted up Henry and Dave. "Thought you'd like to set eyes on me," he said, on shaking hands. "Jes' got in with Dave's father. We did some tall hunting I kin tell ye."
"And Nell?" asked Henry, quickly.
"She's a prisoner up to Fort Duquesne. We got thet putty straight."
"Not of the French?"
"No, of the Injuns hangin' around thar—the Jean Bevoir crowd, as Dave's father calls 'em—a bad lot, too."
Barringford had decided to take part in the campaign now in progress and it can well be imagined that the two young soldiers were right glad to have their trusty old friend with them once more.
"It will seem like old times," said Dave. "If only we could move ahead to-morrow!"
It was late in October when Dave brought in news. He rushed up to where Henry and Barringford were industriously sewing up some holes in their jackets.
​"Hurrah, we are to move at last!" he cried. "Major Grant is ordered ahead with eight hundred men, and our company is to go with the body."
"Only eight hundred," returned Barringford. "Thet ain't many. Kind o' a scoutin' party, I reckon."
Yet, he too was glad to make a movement of any kind, and prepared at once for the departure. Two days later the command was on the road, those left behind wishing them the best of success.
The English were still many miles from Fort Duquesne when the French scouts brought word to their commander that the enemy were approaching. Without waiting to be attacked the French marched forth to do the approaching English battle.
"The fight is on!" cried Dave, as several shots rang out from in front. "We are in for it now!"
"Well, we came to fight," answered Henry. "And the sooner the battle is over the better."
The real battle, however, did not take place until the next day. Then the French did their best to surround the English, and in a short while the contest waxed hot on all sides. Part of the battleground was a small opening and the rest of the fighting took place in the forest. Soon the smoke became so thick that but little could be seen on either side.
"Tell ye wot, them Frenchers mean business!" ​ejaculated Barringford, while re-loading his firearm, which was so hot he could scarcely hold it. "We've lost a sight o' men already."
What he said was true. The loss had been frightful, and the dead and dying lay on every side. Moans and shrieks rent the air, in a fashion to turn the stoutest heart sick. Major Grant rushed around heedless of danger, giving directions and doing all he could to encourage those under him.
"Don't retreat! The battle is ours!" he called out. "Stand where you are!" And then his voice was lost in the rattle of musketry and the mad yelling of the Indians, who had come up to aid the French and steal what they could from the English.
Dave, Henry and Barringford were behind a fallen tree, blazing away as rapidly as possible. The French were before them and the Indians on their left, and for some time it was as if pandemonium had broken loose. Suddenly Barringford gave a yell.
"Duck, boys, duck!"
They fell flat and not a second too soon, for half a dozen arrows whizzed over their heads. Then the old frontiersman leaped to his feet.
"I'll pay ye back!" he roared. "That fer ye, ye sarpints o' the Evil One!"
He took a quick but careful aim at the leader.—Page 168.
Then before any of the party could recover, the Indians were upon them, shouting like demons and flourishing their tomahawks and their keen-edged hunting knives.