With his hunting knife he started to make a blaze upon the tree. It was easily done, and he turned around to make certain of the locality.
Then, like lightning from a clear sky, came an attack as sudden as it was unexpected. Two forms leaped from behind some neighboring bushes. They were Indians and one held a tomahawk in his hand. With the flat of this he struck Dave a blow on the head, knocking him down.
"Don't!" gasped the young pioneer, when a second blow descended, giving him a shock he could not withstand. He stretched out his arms, and then rolled over on his back, senseless.
[Illustration: "'Tis one of the English," said the taller of the Indians.]
"'Tis one of the English," said the taller of the Indians, in his native language. "We were right to set a watch here."
"And what shall be done with him?" questioned the second. "Pontiac cares not for the scalp of a stripling."
"It shall be for Pontiac to answer," was the reply. "Bind him to yonder tree. There may be more to come forth, like foxes from their holes."
Without ceremony Dave's limp body was dragged into a thicket and fastened to a tree. Then the two Indians went back to renew their watch. This continued for the best part of an hour.
At the end of that time three other Indians appeared, including
Foot-in-His-Mouth. The latter listened intently to what had happened.
"The fight is over," he said. "Two Indians are dead, and a white man and a
Delaware squaw named White Buffalo have retreated in the direction of Fort
Pitt. Let us away from here without delay, for I must report this new
happening to Pontiac."