On the Trail of Pontiac or, The Pioneer Boys of the Ohio
en rabbits. Not such a ba
ut somehow I wanted to
hunter would like to br
re not so plentiful as t
game-bag. "I can remember the time when the deer would come up to within a hund
cousin. "There wasn't much hunting in this vicinity during
ldn't get their pay and others were afraid the French or the Indians would knock 'em over." Henry Morris
e with the Indians?" continued Dave Morris, as he and his cousin started forward through the de
ouble, but Sam Barringford says we won't have real peace until the r
the Indians pre
know 'em? He's been among them since he was a sm
y glad to see Sam recover from that wound he received at Quebec. At fi
up, if you want to get home before dark," and so speaking, Henry Morris set off through the woods at a faster pace than e
Canada was now in the possession of the British, and the settlers in our colonies along the great Atlantic seacoast, and on the frontier westward, we
y. The Morris household consisted of Dave's father, Mr. James Morris, who was a widower, and Mr. Joseph Morris, his wife Lucy, and their children, Rodney, several years older than Henry, who came next, and Nell,
a small stream flowing into the Ohio River. This was at the time that George Washington, the future President of our country, was a young surveyor, and in the first volume of this series, entitled "With Washingto
arely escaped with his life. Dave likewise became a prisoner of the enemy, and it was only through the efforts of a friendly
the French were organized, and in the second volume of the series, called "Marching on Niagara," are given the particulars of another campaign against Fort Duquesne (located where the city of Pittsburg, Pe
scribed in the third volume of the series, called "At the Fall of Montreal." In these campaigns both Dave and Henry fought well, and with them was Sam Barringford, who had promised the parents that he would keep an eye on the youths. H
to hear what the young soldiers and their sturdy old friend might have to tell.
orris had said, not once, but many times. "Think o
There is nothing worse than war, unless it be a pe
rris. "One cannot till the soil nor hunt unless we
has been removed from your pat
oo, Joseph," Mrs. Mor
Jean Bevoir drifted to Montreal, and while trying to loot some houses there during the siege, was shot down in a skirmish between the looters on one side, and the French and the English soldiers on the other. The Morrises firmly believed that Jean Bevoir was dead, but such was not a fact. A wound thought to be fatal had taken a turn for the better, and the fellow was now lying in a French farmhou
Kinotah with its beautiful lands, shall still be mine-the Morrises shall never possess it!" Sometimes he spoke to his companions