But with all this it is doubtful if the Indians would have listened to Pontiac and entered this distinguished chief's conspiracy had it not been for the report which was circulated among them by French traders of Jean Bevoir's stamp. These rascals, with nothing to lose and everything to gain, told the red men that the king of the French "had been sleeping," as they expressed it, and that now he was awake, and was sending over an enormous army with which to wipe the English settlers off the face of the earth.
"Let the Indians arise in their might and fight the English," said these traders. "Crush them, and the king of France will bless you and reward you handsomely." Some few red men would not believe this, remembering how the French had treated them before, but others did believe, and these were willing to listen to Pontiac, and enter into a scheme which had for its sole object the uprooting of every English settlement and fort in the West and along the Great Lakes.
The original scheme was to fall upon all the sorts and the larger settlements simultaneously, but this fell through because of the lack of communications—there being as yet few roads and trails—and also because of the lack of Indians, many having perished during the war just closed. More than this, there were a number of hot-headed bands,—like that now under Black Ear,—who could not wait until Pontiac gave the signal to strike, but rushed off to slay and plunder at the first opportunity.
In the days that followed Ira Sanderson's arrival at the Morris homestead, the hunter who had brought Dave the letter from his father recovered rapidly. He told about many of the things already described, but, of course, knew nothing of the arrival at the post of Black Ear and his followers and Jean Bevoir.
"Something is goin' to happen out thar, sure ez shootin'," said Sanderson. "The Injuns is powerfully restless."
"I wish I was out there," answered Dave. It pleased him best to be at his father's side.
The news worried all at the Morris homestead, and as day after day slipped by, they looked anxiously for another message, but none came.
"I'm going over to Fort Cumberland," said Dave, ten days later. "Perhaps the commandant there has news of Fort Pitt, if not of our trading-post."
"Shall I go along?" inquired Rodney, "It's good enough weather for me to walk," which was true, as the snow had cleared away to a considerable degree and the trail was well packed down.
Fort Cumberland was only a few miles away, and by noon of the next day Dave and Rodney presented themselves there. The officer in charge knew them well, and invited them to his private quarters.