# Marching on Niagara/Chapter 2
### CHAPTER II
##### DEER AND INDIANS

Dave and Henry had left home an hour before, hoping to bring back with them at least one deer if not two. Henry was a great hunter, having brought down many a bird on the wing and squirrel on the run, and he knew that if he could only get a fair sight at a deer the game would be his. As old readers know, Dave was likewise a good shot, so it was likely that the youths would bring back something if any game showed itself.
It was a cool, clear day, with just a touch of snow on the ground, ideal weather for hunting, and as the boys pushed on each felt in excellent spirits despite the talk about the Indians. So far as they knew there was no Indian settlement within miles of them nor were there any wandering redskins within half a day's journey.
"Hullo, there go half a dozen rabbits!" cried Dave, presently, and pointed through a little clearing to their left.
"Don't shoot!" cried his cousin, although Dave ​had not raised his flint-lock musket. "If you do you'll scare the deer sure if they are within hearing."
"I wasn't going to shoot, Henry. But just look at the beggars, sitting up and looking at us! I reckon they know they are safe."
"Since the fighting with the French there hasn't been much hunting through here, and so the game is quite tame. But they won't sit long—there they go now. Come."
The pair resumed their journey through the forest, Henry leading the way, for he had been over this trail several times before. Birds were numerous, and they could have filled their canvas bag with ease, had they felt inclined. But the minds of both were on the deer, and to Henry at least it was such game or nothing, although Dave might have contented himself with something smaller. Yet both knew that Mrs. Morris would look forward with pleasure to getting some fresh venison for her table.
At length the pair reached the lower creek which Henry had mentioned. Here the stream which flowed past the Morris homestead split into several arms, one flowing through a wide clearing and the others entering the forest and passing around a series of rough rocks and a cliff nearly fifty feet high. At this point the forest had never yet felt the weight ​of the white man's axe and trees had stood there until brought low by storm or the weight of years.
"Go slow now," whispered Henry, as he caught his cousin by the arm. " If they hear us the game is up."
"The wind is with us," returned Dave. Nevertheless, he slowed up as desired, and then the pair moved forward with extreme caution, each having seen to it that his firearm was ready for immediate use.
Suddenly Henry came to a halt and dropped almost flat behind a rock, and Dave instantly followed. Coming around a short turn they had caught sight of four deer, standing hoof-deep in the water drinking. All the heads were down, but as the youths looked in the direction that of an old buck came up with a jerk and he sniffed the air suspiciously.
"Take the nearest," whispered Henry, softly and quickly. "Ready?"
"Yes," was the low reply.
There was a second of silence and then the two guns spoke as one piece, the reports echoing and reechoing throughout the mighty forest and along the cliff. The deer Henry had aimed at fell down in the water, plunging wildly in its dying agonies, while that struck by Dave hobbled painfully up the bank. ​The others, including the old buck, turned and sped off with the swiftness of the wind.
"Huzza! we have 'em!" shouted Henry. "Come on!" and he leaped to his feet with Dave beside him. Not far off a dead tree lay across the stream and they quickly climbed this, so as not to get their feet wet. When they gained the spot where the deer had been drinking they found Henry's quarry quite dead. The deer Dave had hit was thrashing around in some brushwood.
"I reckon he'll want another shot," said Dave, and reloaded his firearm with all speed. Then he primed up and approached the deer, but before he could pull trigger Henry stopped him.
"He don't need it," came from the older youth. "Save your powder and ball. I'll fix him."
Giving his gun to Dave, Henry rushed up behind the deer, at the same time drawing the long hunting knife he had lately gotten into the habit of carrying. Watching his chance he plunged the knife into the deer's throat. The stroke went true and soon the beast had breathed its last.
"Good for you," cried Dave, enthusiastically. "No use in talking, Henry, you were cut out for a hunter. You'll be as good as Sam Barringford if you keep on."
​"Oh, you did about as well as I did, Dave," was the modest rejoinder. "But this is a prime haul, no use of talking. Mother will be tickled to death."
"I reckon we'll all be pleased—we haven't had deer meat for some time. But we're going to have some work getting these two carcasses home. No use of trying to get those other deer, is there?"
"Use? Not much! Why that old buck must be about two or three miles away by this time. Say, he was a big fellow, wasn't he? I should like to have had those horns, but I knew there was no use in fetching him down,—his meat would be too tough and strong."
"I fancy the best we can do is to make a drag for each deer and each pull his own load home," went on Dave. "If we leave one here the wolves and foxes will soon finish the meat."
"Yes, that's the only way. And we might as well hurry, for it is getting late and it will take us a good three hours to get back with such loads."
They were soon at work, Henry with his hunting knife and Dave with his pocket blade, cutting down some long, pliable brushwood which would make excellent drags for both loads. Their good luck put each in good humor, and as he worked Dave could not refrain from whistling, his favorite airs, ​being, as of old, "Lucy Locket Lost Her Pocket" and "The Pirate's Lady, O!"
The brushwood cut, they lost no time in binding their loads fast, and then Henry led the way along the watercourse, without crossing to the trail they had previously pursued.
"It's almost as near this way as the other," he said. " And I reckon it will be a bit easier pulling."
"Well, make it as easy as you can, Henry. It's no light load, I can tell you that. Sam Barringford was once telling me how he dragged three deer from Plum Valley to Risley's new place, over the snow. I don't see how he did it."
"Oh, it's easy when the crust of the snow is hard enough—the drag goes like a sled. But I admit Sam is a wonderfully powerful man."
"Indeed he is. Why, it was a sight to see—the way he fought when Red Fox and his followers attacked the trading post. He was a whole host in himself."
Inside of quarter of an hour they had reached a bend in the stream, and now Henry left the watercourse and pushed on over a low hill backed up by a series of rocks.
"It will be a slight pull up hill," he said. "But it will save us nearly half a mile. We can rest a few ​minutes when we get to the top. When we get up there I'll show you the spot where I saw those four bears three years ago."
"Don't know as I want to meet four bears just now."
"Oh, the spot isn't on this hill—it's on the hill to the left. Pow-wow Hill Sam Barringford called it. He said it used to be a great Indian resort when the Miamies were in this neighborhood. But the redskins from Shunrum came and drove 'em out."
The top of the rise gained, Dave was glad enough to rest, and both sat down on the trunk of a fallen monarch of the forest, the home now of some chipmunks that fled quickly at their approach.
"There is the spot where I saw the bears," said Henry, pointing with his hand to a clump of trees on the next hill, quite a distance away. "They were in a bunch under that——Hullo! What can that mean?" He broke off short. "Down behind the tree, Dave! Quick!"
The sudden note of alarm was not lost on Dave and in a twinkle both the young hunters were crouched behind the fallen tree. Dave caught his gun and placed his hand on the trigger, but Henry shoved the barrel of the piece downward.
"What did you see?" came from the younger of the youths.
​"Indians!" was the short reply. Henry peeped carefully forth. "Yes, sir, Indians, just as sure as you are born. Look for yourself."
"By the king, but you're right!" exclaimed Dave, in excitement. "Two, three—I see four of them."
"I think I saw a fifth behind that rock to the right. Yes, there he is."
"Can you make out what they are?"
"No, excepting that they are none of White Buffalo's tribe."
"If they don't belong in this neighborhood they are here for no good," said Dave, decidedly.
"I agree with you there, Dave. Possibly they are on a hunt. But why should they come here when there is better game further west?"
"If they are on a hunt it's not for wild animals," came from Dave, significantly. "Have they got their war paint on?"
"I can't see them clearly enough for that."
For several minutes both youths remained silent, watching the distant Indians as they moved around. They had evidently killed some wild animal, although what it was the watchers could not make out.
"If they shot anything it must have been before we reached this neighborhood," said Henry, presently. "I heard no reports."
​"Nor I. But never mind that. What shall we do?"
"I don't know, excepting to go home with our game and report them. I don't care to let them see us, do you?"
"Not if they are enemies, and I reckon they are."
"Do you suppose they spotted us?"
"I think not—although you can never tell, they are that cute. They may have a spy working his way over here at this very minute."
"Then let us go on without delay."
It was easy to say this, but how to proceed without being noticed was a problem. Henry's deer lay behind the fallen tree, but Dave's was in front and the younger hunter did not wish to leave his game behind him.
"I'm going to risk it," said Dave, and crawling cautiously around the stump-end of the fallen tree he reached forth and caught one of the ends of the drag. But the task was a difficult one and as he pulled the deer slipped to the ground and the end of the tree branch was suddenly raised high in the air.
"Drop it," cried Henry, and Dave did so. "They must have seen that, Dave. See, two of them are looking this way. We had better clear out and be quick about it."
​"I'm going to have that deer," returned the younger hunter, and catching the game by the hind legs he dragged it behind the tree. Then both boys hurried down the opposite side of the hill with all speed. Here they placed both deer on the single drag and continued on their way homeward with all possible speed.