Dave and Barringford were with the Rangers when the first order came to scatter into the woods and “beat up” the French and their Indian allies. Forward went the pair side by side, for they meant to keep together, come what might.
“There are some of the varmin!” cried Barringford, suddenly, and dropped behind a rock. He had seen three Indians ahead, crouching behind a clump of bushes. The red men were in the act of firing on the grenadiers in the glade. As their rifles rang out, so did that of the old hunter, and one of the Indians pitched backward, dead. Then Dave fired and the second red man fell, wounded in the breast. The third took to his heels.
But some French soldiers had now discovered our friends and while they were reloading half a dozen bullets clipped through the bushes around them.
“Come, this is too hot a place for us!” ejaculated Barringford, and ran with might and main for another shelter. As they gained it, they heard a crashing in a tree at their side, and saw a French sharpshooter coming down with his rifle slung over his back. Again Barringford blazed away and another enemy fell, to rise no more.
“The Indians are coming this way!” cried Dave, suddenly. “See, a whole company is on the run!”
“Oh, fer a cannon to train on ’em!” muttered Barringford, who was reloading his hot piece with all speed. “Give it to ’em, Dave. Take the leader.”
Dave did “give it to ’em,” aiming at the leader, and the Indian fell so quickly that two of his warriors stumbled over him. Then the Indians caught sight of our friends and whooping in a rage bore down on Dave and Barringford with all speed.
Not to be caught, the young soldier and his companion fled to another portion of the forest. Here there was a rise of ground and from this spot they could catch sight of the opening where stood the larger portion of the grenadiers in hopeless terror. As they came into view several of the royal troops opened fire on them, putting a bullet through Dave’s coat and another through Barringford’s rather long hair.
“Willikins! they take us fer Frenchmen!” roared Barringford. “It was a close shave, wasn’t it? Git out o’ sight, lad!” And he pulled Dave flat.
After such an experience the young soldier was willing to go into hiding, and lying among some tree roots, the pair spent ten minutes in getting back their breath. Several other Rangers were in the vicinity, all occupying something of a semi-circle and each on the alert for the first sight of a French soldier or Indian enemy.