Their caution did not decrease, however. They realized that enemies might lurk in the trees that bordered the river, and even amid the beds of waving green reeds in marshy places, which were capable of concealing treacherous foes, ready to let slip the swift arrow, or discharge the French guns with which the unscrupulous traders at the numerous posts were supplying the various tribes.
Nor was this all they had to fear. The closer they came to the valley of the Mississippi the more peril they faced. Indians were had enough; but, deep down in their hearts, the pioneers dreaded an encounter with the outlaw trappers who, belonging to the old-time foe of England, had ever been a thorn in the flesh of those who would people the vast wilderness beyond the Alleghanies. ([Note 11.])
Mr. Armstrong fully expected to have to fight for his new possession. He believed, however, that, if they could only manage to hold out until the second detachment arrived, to augment their force, all might be well.
As for Sandy, he was daily showing more and more signs of excitement. The dearest dream of his life was coming true; and, when presently he could feast his eyes on the rolling flood of the greatest of all rivers, he would feel contented—for a little while, at least.
They were hardly a day without some new thrill.
Now it was the sight of an Indian village in full view on the shore, with the smoke curling up from several fires, where the squaws seemed to be curing meat by some primitive process. Mr. Armstrong imagined that most of the warriors must be off on another grand hunt; for, while many old men, squaws and papooses crowded to the edge of the water, and loud derisive shouts floated to the ears of the voyagers, there was no effort made to man the canoes and attack the drifting flatboat.
Occasionally they discovered some lone brave in a small craft, hunting the wild water birds that still remained in quantities at certain favored places, while their feathered companions had swept away by millions to far northern breeding-grounds, to return again in the autumn months.
Mr. Armstrong made it a point to have one of the men aboard the flatboat call out something in French whenever the chance arose. His object was to make the red hunters believe that the passengers and crew belonged to the nation with which the western tribes had long been at peace. He believed that all such devices were fair in war times; and that such an impression, if scattered broadcast among the Indians, was apt to save the little party from many hazards.
But they were not always free from sudden perils that seemed to come like bolts from a clear sky.
One night they had tied up to the southern shore, as usual. So far as Pat O’Mara had been able to decide, there need be no fear of Indians, although of course they meant to keep up a constant watch, so as to guard against a surprise.