“They must be canoes,” he told himself. “Nothing else could come up the stream in that fashion. And if they are canoes, they must be filled with Indians!”
With strained eyes he watched the objects and at last became satisfied that they were canoes, and filled with men, either whites or Indians. Soon the canoes turned shoreward and were lost to sight in the bushes. On the instant Dave turned and sped for the post with all possible speed.
“Hi, Dave, what’s up?” came from Barringford, who met him at the entrance to the stockade. “Have ye spotted anything?”
“I have, Sam. Five canoes just came up the river and they were filled with men. They turned in at the blasted oak.”
“Injuns!” returned the old hunter. “Didn’t think they’d be out to-night.”
“Neither did I. But they are out. What shall we do?”
“Call all hands, shut up this gate, and stand on guard. We’ve got one thing in our favor. Everything is wet through and they’ll have their hands full if they attempt to set anything afire,” concluded the old hunter.
While Barringford closed the huge gate and barred it, and also went to make the other entrances safe, Dave ran off to awaken the others in the post. All told the garrison, if such it may be called, numbered six whites, two half-breeds, and three full-blooded Indians. The latter had been in James Morris’ service since the trader had come west, and were fully trustworthy.
CHAPTER XXI
THE DEFENCE OF THE TRADING-POST
“We are eleven all told,” said Dave, when he came up to his position in the loft of the log house. “The Indians in those canoes must number at least twenty or twenty-five.”