# Marching on Niagara/Chapter 11
### CHAPTER XI
##### SAM BARRINGFORD'S RUSE

The appearance of his old frontier friend gave Henry's hopes a bound upward. He felt that he could rely upon Sam Barringford to do his utmost for him in securing his release. He felt equally sure that Barringford had been following the band for some time, trying to gain a chance to rush in and cut his bonds.
It was true that Barringford numbered but one against nine, and would have stood small chance against them in an open fight, but Henry knew the old frontiersman too well to imagine that Barringford would thus expose himself to a stray shot that might kill him. His friend had learned the value of playing a "waiting game," and would do nothing rash unless the occasion actually demanded it.
The best part of half an hour went by, and still the Indians remained around the camp-fire, smoking and discussing the situation. Occasionally one would glance toward Henry and perhaps raise a tomahawk threateningly, meaning thereby that an ​attempt to escape would be punishable by death. To these movements Henry paid no attention.
The young hunter's ears were on the alert, for he half expected that Barringford might be coming up behind him to cut his bonds. At last he heard his name mentioned in a low, guarded tone:
"Henry!"
"Sam," he returned, without apparently moving his lips.
"I'm right behind, lad. Do as I tell you and gittin' away may come easy. I'll cut yer rawhides, but don't you attempt ter move till yer hear a noise in the woods an' the Injuns run fer the spot. Then dust straight back, an' I'll jine you fast as I kin. Do you understand?"
"Yes," answered Henry, as softly as before.
"All right. Now tell me when them measly critters ain't looking'. I can't see 'em from here."
After this there was a few minutes of silence. Henry watched the nine redmen as never before. Several faced him, but now they turned away for a moment and he communicated that fact to Sam Barringford.
Instantly a hand glided around the side of the tree and a sharp hunting knife slid along the rawhides which bound the youth's hands and feet. The bonds about the tree were already severed.
​"Now I'm goin'," whispered Barringford. "Don't run till they ain't a-noticin' of you—unless, o' course, they come straight at you."
As silently as he had come Sam Barringford retreated, keeping the tree and some brushwood between himself and the enemy. Once more Henry was left alone, and again many anxious minutes passed.
Suddenly from a distance up the stream came a shot, followed by another, and then a well-known Indian war-whoop. The voice of a white man, calling out loudly, was heard, followed by another warcry, and a crashing and splitting of a tree branch.
Throwing down their pipes all the Indians around the camp-fire leaped to their feet and seized their weapons. With one accord they bounded up the stream to learn what the encounter so close at hand could mean. The war-whoop used was their own. Some of their own tribe must be making an attack or must be in danger.
No sooner had the Indians turned to leave him than Henry dropped his bonds and leaped behind the tree. With all possible speed he rushed straight into the woods. As he progressed he jumped from one rock to another, where this could be done, in order to leave as imperfect a trail as possible.
He felt that the shots, the cries and the ​war-whoops, coupled with the crashing of the tree branch, were all a part of the ruse employed by Sam Barringford to make the Indians leave their captive, and in this he was not mistaken. The Indians had gone off to a man, and now, when he felt safe for the time being, Henry was sorry that he had not stopped long enough to gain possession of his gun.
"I can't go back now," he muttered. "They'll return soon—or send one or two back to watch me." He listened for a second. "Hullo! some of 'em are back already! Now'll they'll make it warm for me, if they can!"
He pushed on until he heard a low but clear whistle, not unlike the sound of certain night birds of that locality. He whistled in return and soon saw the form of a man in the distance waving an arm for him to come up.
"Fooled 'em nicely, didn't I?" chuckled Sam Barringford. "They lit out soon as they heard thet war-whoop, didn't they?"
"They did," answered Henry. "But some of 'em are back, so we mustn't lose any time getting away."
"Right you are, lad—'t won't do to try to fool 'em too much-it's too much like playin' with the teeth o' a wildcat, now they hev their war-paint on. ​O' course you know the hull country's riz, don't you?"
"Yes, and Risley's cabin has been burnt down and Mrs. Risley is a captive I'm afraid."
"I'm a-feered fer your own folks, Henry. The Injuns is headed that way, seems to me."
As they hurried on through the woods, with ears on the alert for the possible appearance of the Indians left behind or of others, Henry told his story, to which the old frontiersman listened with close attention. In return Barringford related his own doings during the past forty-eight hours.
"I was up to Timber Ridge, back o' Siler's place, lookin' fer deer, when I spotted some o' the Injuns makin' fer the old meetin' ground. I made up my mind they was up to no good, and so I followed 'em. They held a meeting with Little Horn's warriors, and one of 'em had a message from thet rascally Jean Bevoir who robbed yer uncle o' that trading-post on the Kinotah, and the message said not to forget the Morris cabin in the raid."
"Our cabin!" burst out Henry. "Then they will surely attack it."
"Yes, and jest because Jean Bevoir wants 'em to, Henry. Thet rascal ought to be hung. He's wuss nor any redman, to my way o' thinkin'."
​"Anyway, we can't get home too quick—at least I can't, Sam."
"I'm with you, Henry. Your folks are my best friends. Besides, I want to learn what has become of Dave. You know what a sight I think o' him," concluded Barringford.
They advanced with caution until Henry felt compelled to rest. Then they sat down by the edge of a tiny stream and here obtained a drink, and the frontiersman washed and bound up Henry's wounded hand. At last they went on once more, taking a semi-circle which brought them in sight of the Morris cabin.
"Too late!" burst from Henry's lips, and his heart sank within him. Against the early morning sky was a heavy cloud of smoke curling lazily upward from the ruins of the cabin and the out-buildings. Around the ruins half a dozen redmen were prowling, on the hunt for anything of value which might have escaped their notice during the darkness of the night.
"Yes, lad, we're too late," responded Barringford, mournfully. "I only trust your folks escaped."
"Let—let us creep closer and see if there are any—any bodies lying around," faltered the young hunter. He was so agitated he could scarcely speak.
​"Be careful what you do," was the warning. "Follow me—I think I know a safe lookout place."
Barringford led the way, and presently they found themselves in a clump of brushwood not over two hundred feet from the cabin. The brush was on a rise of ground, so that they could survey the situation with ease.
"Nothing in sight," said Henry, after a long and painful pause. "What do you say to that, Sam?"
"It's encouragin', lad. More'n likely your father got away with your mother an' the others. I don't see none o' the hosses around. Thet's a good sign, too. I believe they struck out fer Fort Lawrence or Will's Creek—most likely the first, fer the trail to Will's Creek is chuck-a-block with Injuns."
Feeling that nothing could be gained by remaining in the vicinity, they started to retreat to the friendly shelter of the forest. They had hardly covered a hundred yards, when Henry gave a cry of warning.
"An Indian! Coming straight for us!"
He was right, and a moment later a painted warrior confronted them. He, too, was surprised at the meeting, but quick as a flash raised the tomahawk he carried to strike Barringford down.
Had the blow landed as intended the frontiersman's skull would have been split in twain. But if ​the Indian was quick Barringford was quicker. He leaped to one side and in a twinkling had the warrior by the throat and was bearing him backward. At the same moment Henry advanced.
"Never mind—I've got the consarned critter!" cried Barringford, as he held the Indian in a grasp of steel. "See if more are a-comin'!"
Henry looked, but not another redman was in sight. The one in Barringford's grasp squirmed and struggled and drew up a knee to plant it against the frontiersman's breast. But even this did not break that deadly grip, and now the Indian's tongue fairly lolled from his wide-open mouth. He clutched Barringford's throat, but his hand was thrown aside and the wrist pressed back until it was almost broken. Then the Indian gave a strange gulp and suddenly collapsed in a heap.
"Thet settles his account," panted Barringford, as he staggered away. "An' he didn't git no chance to make any noise nuther. Serves the critter right, don't it?" And he led the way onward once more.
"Yes, it served him right," answered Henry, but even as he spoke he had to shudder, and he wondered if the Indian was really dead or only partly choked to death.
Having decided to move in the direction of Fort Lawrence, Sam Barringford led the way by the very ​route Joseph Morris had pursued. Both he and Henry were now exhausted by their long walk, and both would have rested had it not been that they were so anxious to know how matters were going at the fort. On they stumbled as best they could. Each was hungry, yet neither complained on that score.
It was nearly noon when they heard a number of shots in the distance. A fierce yelling followed, and the shooting was continued for the best part of half an hour.
"The Indians have attacked the fort!" cried Henry. "A big battle must be going on!"
"I reckon you are right, Henry. Come," and Barringford set off at an increased rate of speed.
They did not go far, however, for only a little while later they heard a murmur of voices ahead.
"An Injun camp," whispered Barringford. "Come, we'll go around," and he moved to the left.
But here the way was also blocked by Indians. Then they made a wide detour, only to find more warriors encamped between themselves and the fort.
"The way's blocked," said the frontiersman at last. "The critters have entirely surrounded the fort. We're out of it, and it looks as if we'd have to stay out."