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diff --git a/old/1078-0.txt b/old/1078-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d049b84 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1078-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11669 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Scouts of the Valley, by Joseph A. Altsheler + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Scouts of the Valley + +Author: Joseph A. Altsheler + +Posting Date: August 3, 2008 [EBook #1078] +Release Date: October, 1997 +Last Updated: March 10, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SCOUTS OF THE VALLEY *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + + + + + +THE SCOUTS OF THE VALLEY + +by Joseph A. Altsheler + + + + +CHAPTER I. THE LONE CANOE + + +A light canoe of bark, containing a single human figure, moved swiftly +up one of the twin streams that form the Ohio. The water, clear and +deep, coming through rocky soil, babbled gently at the edges, where it +lapped the land, but in the center the full current flowed steadily and +without noise. + +The thin shadows of early dusk were falling, casting a pallid tint over +the world, a tint touched here and there with living fire from the sun, +which was gone, though leaving burning embers behind. One glowing shaft, +piercing straight through the heavy forest that clothed either bank, +fell directly upon the figure in the boat, as a hidden light illuminates +a great picture, while the rest is left in shadow. It was no common +forest runner who sat in the middle of the red beam. Yet a boy, in +nothing but years, he swung the great paddle with an ease and vigor that +the strongest man in the West might have envied. His rifle, with the +stock carved beautifully, and the long, slender blue barrel of the +border, lay by his side. He could bring the paddle into the boat, +grasp the rifle, and carry it to his shoulder with a single, continuous +movement. + +His most remarkable aspect, one that the casual observer even would have +noticed, was an extraordinary vitality. He created in the minds of those +who saw him a feeling that he lived intensely every moment of his life. +Born and-bred in the forest, he was essentially its child, a perfect +physical being, trained by the utmost hardship and danger, and with +every faculty, mental and physical, in complete coordination. It is only +by a singular combination of time and place, and only once in millions +of chances, that Nature produces such a being. + +The canoe remained a few moments in the center of the red light, and its +occupant, with a slight swaying motion of the paddle, held it steady in +the current, while he listened. Every feature stood out in the glow, the +firm chin, the straight strong nose, the blue eyes, and the thick yellow +hair. The red blue, and yellow beads on his dress of beautifully tanned +deerskin flashed in the brilliant rays. He was the great picture of +fact, not of fancy, a human being animated by a living, dauntless soul. + +He gave the paddle a single sweep and shot from the light into the +shadow. His canoe did not stop until it grazed the northern shore, where +bushes and overhanging boughs made a deep shadow. It would have taken +a keen eye now to have seen either the canoe or its occupant, and +Henry Ware paddled slowly and without noise in the darkest heart of the +shadow. + +The sunlight lingered a little longer in the center of the stream. Then +the red changed to pink. The pink, in its turn, faded, and the whole +surface of the river was somber gray, flowing between two lines of black +forest. + +The coming of the darkness did not stop the boy. He swung a little +farther out into the stream, where the bushes and hanging boughs would +not get in his way, and continued his course with some increase of +speed. + +The great paddle swung swiftly through the water, and the length of +stroke was amazing, but the boy's breath did not come faster, and the +muscles on his arms and shoulders rippled as if it were the play of +a child. Henry was in waters unknown to him. He had nothing more than +hearsay upon which to rely, and he used all the wilderness caution that +he had acquired through nature and training. He called into use every +faculty of his perfect physical being. His trained eyes continually +pierced the darkness. At times, he stopped and listened with ears that +could hear the footfall of the rabbit, but neither eye nor ear brought +report of anything unusual. The river flowed with a soft, sighing sound. +Now and then a wild creature stirred in the forest, and once a deer +came down to the margin to drink, but this was the ordinary life of the +woods, and he passed it by. + +He went on, hour after hour. The river narrowed. The banks grew higher +and rockier, and the water, deep and silvery under the moon, flowed in +a somewhat swifter current. Henry gave a little stronger sweep to the +paddle, and the speed of the canoe was maintained. He still kept within +the shadow of the northern bank. + +He noticed after a while that fleecy vapor was floating before the moon. +The night seemed to be darkening, and a rising wind came out of the +southwest. The touch of the air on, his face was damp. It was the token +of rain, and he felt that it would not be delayed long. + +It was no part of his plan to be caught in a storm on the Monongahela. +Besides the discomfort, heavy rain and wind might sink his frail canoe, +and he looked for a refuge. The river was widening again, and the banks +sank down until they were but little above the water. Presently he saw +a place that he knew would be suitable, a stretch of thick bushes and +weeds growing into the very edge of the water, and extending a hundred +yards or more along the shore. + +He pushed his canoe far into the undergrowth, and then stopped it in +shelter so close that, keen as his own eyes were, he could scarcely see +the main stream of the river. The water where he came to rest was not +more than a foot deep, but he remained in the canoe, half reclining and +wrapping closely around himself and his rifle a beautiful blanket woven +of the tightest fiber. + +His position, with his head resting on the edge of the canoe and his +shoulder pressed against the side, was full of comfort to him, and he +awaited calmly whatever might come. Here and there were little spaces +among the leaves overhead, and through them he saw a moon, now almost +hidden by thick and rolling vapors, and a sky that had grown dark and +somber. The last timid star had ceased to twinkle, and the rising wind +was wet and cold. He was glad of the blanket, and, skilled forest runner +that he was, he never traveled without it. Henry remained perfectly +still. The light canoe did not move beneath his weight the fraction +of an inch. His upturned eyes saw the little cubes of sky that showed +through the leaves grow darker and darker. The bushes about him were +now bending before the wind, which blew steadily from the south, and +presently drops of rain began to fall lightly on the water. + +The boy, alone in the midst of all that vast wilderness, surrounded by +danger in its most cruel forms, and with a black midnight sky above him, +felt neither fear nor awe. Being what nature and circumstance had made +him, he was conscious, instead, of a deep sense of peace and comfort. +He was at ease, in a nest for the night, and there was only the remotest +possibility that the prying eye of an enemy would see him. The leaves +directly over his head were so thick that they formed a canopy, and, as +he heard the drops fall upon them, it was like the rain on a roof, that +soothes the one beneath its shelter. + +Distant lightning flared once or twice, and low thunder rolled along the +southern horizon, but both soon ceased, and then a rain, not hard, but +cold and persistent, began to fall, coming straight down. Henry saw that +it might last all night, but he merely eased himself a little in the +canoe, drew the edges of the blanket around his chin, and let his +eyelids droop. + +The rain was now seeping through the leafy canopy of green, but he did +not care. It could not penetrate the close fiber of the blanket, and the +fur cap drawn far down on his head met the blanket. Only his face was +uncovered, and when a cold drop fell upon it, it was to him, hardened by +forest life, cool and pleasant to the touch. + +Although the eyelids still drooped, he did not yet feel the tendency to +sleep. It was merely a deep, luxurious rest, with the body completely +relaxed, but with the senses alert. The wind ceased to blow, and the +rain came down straight with an even beat that was not unmusical. No +other sound was heard in the forest, as the ripple of the river at the +edges was merged into it. Henry began to feel the desire for sleep by +and by, and, laying the paddle across the boat in such a way that it +sheltered his face, he closed his eyes. In five minutes he would have +been sleeping as soundly as a man in a warm bed under a roof, but with +a quick motion he suddenly put the paddle aside and raised himself a +little in the canoe, while one hand slipped down under the folds of the +blanket to the hammer of his rifle. + +His ear had told him in time that there was a new sound on the river. He +heard it faintly above the even beat of the rain, a soft sound, long and +sighing, but regular. He listened, and then he knew it. It was made by +oars, many of them swung in unison, keeping admirable time. + +Henry did not yet feel fear, although it must be a long boat full of +Indian warriors, as it was not likely, that anybody else would be abroad +upon these waters at such a time. He made no attempt to move. Where he +lay it was black as the darkest cave, and his cool judgment told him +that there was no need of flight. + +The regular rhythmic beat of the oars came nearer, and presently as he +looked through the covert of leaves the dusky outline of a great war +canoe came into view. It contained at least twenty warriors, of what +tribe he could not tell, but they were wet, and they looked cold and +miserable. Soon they were opposite him, and he saw the outline of every +figure. Scalp locks drooped in the rain, and he knew that the warriors, +hardy as they might be, were suffering. + +Henry expected to see the long boat pass on, but it was turned toward +a shelving bank fifty or sixty yards below, and they beached it there. +Then all sprang out, drew it up on the land, and, after turning it over, +propped it up at an angle. When this was done they sat under it in a +close group, sheltered from the rain. They were using their great canoe +as a roof, after the habit of Shawnees and Wyandots. + +The boy watched them for a long time through one of the little openings +in the bushes, and he believed that they would remain as they were all +night, but presently he saw a movement among them, and a little flash +of light. He understood it. They were trying to kindle a fire-with flint +and steel, under the shelter of the boat. He continued to watch them +'lazily and without alarm. + +Their fire, if they succeeded in making it, would cast no light upon him +in the dense covert, but they would be outlined against the flame, and +he could see them better, well enough, perhaps, to tell to what tribe +they belonged. + +He watched under his lowered eyelids while the warriors, gathered in +a close group to make a shelter from stray puffs of wind, strove with +flint and steel. Sparks sprang up and went out, but Henry at last saw a +little blaze rise and cling to life. Then, fed with tinder and bark, it +grew under the roof made by the boat until it was ruddy and strong. The +boat was tilted farther back, and the fire, continuing to grow, crackled +cheerfully, while the flames leaped higher. + +By a curious transfer of the senses, Henry, as he lay in the thick +blackness felt the influence of the fire, also. Its warmth was upon his +face, and it was pleasing to see the red and yellow light victorious +against the sodden background of the rain and dripping forest. The +figures of the warriors passed and repassed before the fire, and the boy +in the boat moved suddenly. His body was not shifted more than an inch, +but his surprise was great. + +A warrior stood between him and the fire, outlined perfectly against +the red light. It was a splendid figure, young, much beyond the average +height, the erect and noble head crowned with the defiant scalplock, the +strong, slightly curved nose and the massive chin cut as clearly as if +they had been carved in copper. The man who had laid aside a wet blanket +was bare now to the waist, and Henry could see the powerful muscles play +on chest and shoulders as he moved. + +The boy knew him. It was Timmendiquas, the great White Lightning of the +Wyandots, the youngest, but the boldest and ablest of all the Western +chiefs. Henry's pulses leaped a little at the sight of his old foe and +almost friend. As always, he felt admiration at the sight of the +young chief. It was not likely that he would ever behold such another +magnificent specimen of savage manhood. + +The presence of Timmendiquas so far east was also full of significance. +The great fleet under Adam Colfax, and with Henry and his comrades in +the van, had reached Pittsburgh at last. Thence the arms, ammunition, +and other supplies were started on the overland journey for the American +army, but the five lingered before beginning the return to Kentucky. +A rumor came that the Indian alliance was spreading along the entire +frontier, both west and north. It was said that Timmendiquas, stung to +fiery energy by his defeats, was coming east to form a league with the +Iroquois, the famous Six Nations. These warlike tribes were friendly +with the Wyandots, and the league would be a formidable danger to the +Colonies, the full strength of which was absorbed already in the great +war. + +But the report was a new call of battle to Henry, Shif'less Sol, and the +others. The return to Kentucky was postponed. They could be of greater +service here, and they plunged into the great woods to the north and, +east to see what might be stirring among the warriors. + +Now Henry, as he looked at Timmendiquas, knew that report had told +the truth. The great chief would not be on the fringe of the Iroquois +country, if he did not have such a plan, and he had the energy and +ability to carry it through. Henry shuddered at the thought of the +tomahawk flashing along every mile of a frontier so vast, and defended +so thinly. He was glad in every fiber that he and his comrades had +remained to hang upon the Indian hordes, and be heralds of their +marches. In the forest a warning usually meant the saving of life. + +The rain ceased after a while, although water dripped from the trees +everywhere. But the big fire made an area of dry earth about it, and the +warriors replaced the long boat in the water. Then all but four or five +of them lay beside the coals and went to sleep. Timmendiquas was one of +those who remained awake, and Henry saw that he was in deep thought. He +walked back and forth much like a white man, and now and then he folded +his hands behind his back, looking toward the earth, but not seeing it. +Henry could guess what was in his mind. He would draw forth the full +power of the Six Nations, league them with the Indians of the great +valley, and hurl them all in one mass upon the frontier. He was planning +now the means to the end. + +The chief, in his little walks back and forth, came close to the edge of +the bushes in which Henry lay, It was not at all probable that he +would conclude to search among them, but some accident, a chance, might +happen, and Henry began to feel a little alarm. Certainly, the coming +of the day would make his refuge insecure, and he resolved to slip away +while it was yet light. + +The boy rose a little in the boat, slowly and with the utmost caution, +because the slightest sound out of the common might arouse Timmendiquas +to the knowledge of a hostile presence. The canoe must make no plash in +the water. Gradually he unwrapped the blanket and tied it in a folded +square at his back. Then he took thought a few moments. The forest was +so silent now that he did not believe he could push the canoe through +the bushes without being heard. He would leave it there for use another +day and go on foot through the woods to his comrades. + +Slowly he put one foot down the side until it rested on the bottom, and +then he remained still. The chief had paused in his restless walk back +and forth. Could it be possible that he had heard so slight a sound as +that of a human foot sinking softly into the water? Henry waited with +his rifle ready. If necessary he would fire, and then dart away among +the bushes. + +Five or six intense moments passed, and the chief resumed his restless +pacing. If he had heard, he had passed it by as nothing, and Henry +raised the other foot out of the canoe. He was as delicate in his +movement as a surgeon mending the human eye, and he had full cause, as +not eye alone, but life as well, depended upon his success. Both feet +now rested upon the muddy bottom, and he stood there clear of the boat. + +The chief did not stop again, and as the fire had burned higher, his +features were disclosed more plainly in his restless walk back and +forth before the flames. Henry took a final look at the lofty features, +contracted now into a frown, then began to wade among the bushes, +pushing his way softly. This was the most delicate and difficult task of +all. The water must not be allowed to plash around him nor the bushes +to rustle as he passed. Forward he went a yard, then two, five, ten, and +his feet were about to rest upon solid earth, when a stick submerged +in the mud broke under his moccasin with a snap singularly loud in the +silence of the night. + +Henry sprang at once upon dry land, whence he cast back a single swift +glance. He saw the chief standing rigid and gazing in the direction from +which the sound had come. Other warriors were just behind him, following +his look, aware that there was an unexpected presence in the forest, and +resolved to know its nature. + +Henry ran northward. So confident was he in his powers and the +protecting darkness of the night that he sent back a sharp cry, piercing +and defiant, a cry of a quality that could come only from a white +throat. The warriors would know it, and he intended for them to know it. +Then, holding his rifle almost parallel with his body, he darted swiftly +away through the black spaces of the forest. But an answering cry came +to his, the Indian yell taking up his challenge, and saying that the +night would not check pursuit. + +Henry maintained his swift pace for a long time, choosing the more open +places that he might make no noise among the bushes and leaves. Now and +then water dripped in his face, and his moccasins were wet from the long +grass, but his body was warm and dry, and he felt little weariness. The +clouds were now all gone, and the stars sprang out, dancing in a sky of +dusky blue. Trained eyes could see far in the forest despite the night, +and Henry felt that he must be wary. He recalled the skill and tenacity +of Timmendiquas. A fugitive could scarcely be trailed in the darkness, +but the great chief would spread out his forces like a fan and follow. + +He had been running perhaps three hours when he concluded to stop in a +thicket, where he lay down on the damp grass, and rested with his head +under his arm. + +His breath had been coming a little faster, but his heart now resumed +its regular beat. Then he heard a soft sound, that of footsteps. He +thought at first that some wild animal was prowling near, but second +thought convinced him that human beings had come. Gazing through the +thicket, he saw an Indian warrior walking among the trees, looking +searchingly about him as if he were a scout. Another, coming from a +different direction, approached him, and Henry felt sure that they were +of the party of Timmendiquas. They had followed him in some manner, +perhaps by chance, and it behooved Mm now to lie close. + +A third warrior joined them and they began to examine the ground. Henry +realized that it was much lighter. Keen eyes under such a starry sky +could see much, and they might strike his trail. The fear quickly became +fact. One of the warriors, uttering a short cry, raised his head and +beckoned to the others. He had seen broken twigs or trampled grass, and +Henry, knowing that it was no time to hesitate, sprang from his covert. +Two of the warriors caught a glimpse of his dusky figure and fired, the +bullets cutting the leaves close to his head, but Henry ran so fast that +he was lost to view in an instant. + +The boy was conscious that his position contained many elements of +danger. He was about to have another example of the tenacity and +resource of the great young chief of the Wyandots, and he felt a certain +anger. He, did not wish to be disturbed in his plans, he wished to +rejoin his comrades and move farther east toward the chosen lands of +the Six Nations; instead, he must spend precious moments running for his +life. + +Henry did not now flee toward the camp of his friends. He was too wise, +too unselfish, to bring a horde down upon them, and he curved away in a +course that would take him to the south of them. He glanced up and saw +that the heavens were lightening yet more. A thin gray color like a mist +was appearing in the east. It was the herald of day, and now the Indians +would be able to find his trail. But Henry was not afraid. His anger +over the loss of time quickly passed, and he ran swiftly on, the fall of +his moccasins making scarcely any noise as he passed. + +It was no unusual incident. Thousands of such pursuits occurred in +the border life of our country, and were lost to the chronicler. For +generations they were almost a part of the daily life of the frontier, +but the present, while not out of the common in itself, had, uncommon +phases. It was the most splendid type of white life in all the +wilderness that fled, and the finest type of red life that followed. + +It was impossible for Henry to feel anger or hate toward Timmendiquas. +In his place he would have done what he was doing. It was hard to give +up these great woods and beautiful lakes and rivers, and the wild life +that wild men lived and loved. There was so much chivalry in the boy's +nature that he could think of all these things while he fled to escape +the tomahawk or the stake. + +Up came the sun. The gray light turned to silver, and then to red and +blazing gold. A long, swelling note, the triumphant cry of the pursuing +warriors, rose behind him. Henry turned his head for one look. He saw +a group of them poised for a moment on the crest of a low hill and +outlined against the broad flame in the east. He saw their scalp locks, +the rifles in their hands, and their bare chests shining bronze in the +glow. Once more he sent back his defiant cry, now in answer to theirs, +and then, calling upon his reserves of strength and endurance, fled with +a speed that none of the warriors had ever seen surpassed. + +Henry's flight lasted all that day, and he used every device to evade +the pursuit, swinging by vines, walking along fallen logs, and wading in +brooks. He did not see the warriors again, but instinct warned him that +they were yet following. At long intervals he would rest for a quarter +of an hour or so among the bushes, and at noon he ate a little of the +venison that he always carried. Three hours later he came to the river +again, and swimming it he turned on his course, but kept to the southern +side. When the twilight was falling once more he sat still in dense +covert for a long time. He neither saw nor heard a sign of human +presence, and he was sure now that the pursuit had failed. Without an +effort he dismissed it from his mind, ate a little more of the venison, +and made his bed for the night. + +The whole day had been bright, with a light wind blowing, and the forest +was dry once more. As far as Henry could see it circled away on every +side, a solid dark green, the leaves of oak and beech, maple and elm +making a soft, sighing sound as they waved gently in the wind. It told +Henry of nothing but peace. He had eluded the pursuit, hence it was no +more. This was a great, friendly forest, ready to shelter him, to soothe +him, and to receive him into its arms for peaceful sleep. + +He found a place among thick trees where the leaves of last year lay +deep upon the ground. He drew up enough of them for a soft bed, because +now and for the moment he was a forest sybarite. He was wise enough to +take his ease when he found it, knowing that it would pay his body to +relax. + +He lay down upon the leaves, placed the rifle by his side, and spread +the blanket over himself and the weapon. The twilight was gone, and the +night, dark and without stars, as he wished to see it, rolled up, fold +after fold, covering and hiding everything. He looked a little while at +a breadth of inky sky showing through the leaves, and then, free from +trouble or fear, he fell asleep. + + + + + +CHAPTER II. THE MYSTERIOUS HAND + + +Henry slept until a rosy light, filtering through the leaves, fell upon +his face. Then he sprang up, folded the blanket once more upon his back, +and looked about him. Nothing had come in the night to disturb him, +no enemy was near, and the morning sun was bright and beautiful. The +venison was exhausted, but he bathed his face in the brook and resumed +his journey, traveling with a long, swift stride that carried him at +great speed. + +The boy was making for a definite point, one that he knew well, although +nearly all the rest of this wilderness was strange to him. The country +here was rougher than it usually is in the great valley to the west, and +as he advanced it became yet more broken, range after range of steep, +stony hills, with fertile but narrow little valleys between. He went +on without hesitation for at least two hours, and then stopping under a +great oak he uttered a long, whining cry, much like the howl of a wolf. + +It was not a loud note, but it was singularly penetrating, carrying far +through the forest. A sound like an echo came back, but Henry knew that +instead of an echo it was a reply to his own signal. Then he advanced +boldly and swiftly and came to the edge of a snug little valley set deep +among rocks and trees like a bowl. He stopped behind the great trunk of +a beech, and looked into the valley with a smile of approval. + +Four human figures were seated around a fire of smoldering coals that +gave forth no smoke. They appeared to be absorbed in some very pleasant +task, and a faint odor that came to Henry's nostrils filled him with +agreeable anticipations. He stepped forward boldly and called: + +“Jim, save that piece for me!” + +Long Jim Hart halted in mid-air the large slice of venison that he had +toasted on a stick. Paul Cotter sprang joyfully to his feet, Silent Tom +Ross merely looked up, but Shif'less Sol said: + +“Thought Henry would be here in time for breakfast.” + +Henry walked down in the valley, and the shiftless one regarded him +keenly. + +“I should judge, Henry Ware, that you've been hevin' a foot race,” he +drawled. + +“And why do you think that?” asked Henry. + +“I kin see where the briars hev been rakin' across your leggins. Reckon +that wouldn't happen, 'less you was in a pow'ful hurry.” + +“You're right,” said Henry. “Now, Jim, you've been holding that venison +in the air long enough. Give it to me, and after I've eaten it I'll tell +you all that I've been doing, and all that's been done to me.” + +Long Jim handed him the slice. Henry took a comfortable seat in the +circle before the coals, and ate with all the appetite of a powerful +human creature whose food had been more than scanty for at least two +days. + +“Take another piece,” said Long Jim, observing him with approval. “Take +two pieces, take three, take the whole deer. I always like to see a +hungry man eat. It gives him sech satisfaction that I git a kind uv +taste uv it myself.” + +Henry did not offer a word 'of explanation until his breakfast was over. +Then lie leaned back, sighing twice with deep content, and said: + +“Boys, I've got a lot to tell.” + +Shif'less Sol moved into an easier position on the leaves. + +“I guess it has somethin' to do with them scratches on your leggins.” + +“It has,” continued Henry with emphasis, “and I want to say to you boys +that I've seen Timmendiquas, the great White Lightning of the Wyandots.” + +“Timmendiquas!” exclaimed the others together. + +“No less a man than he,” resumed Henry. “I've looked upon his very face, +I've seen him in camp with warriors, and I've had the honor of being +pursued by him and his men more hours than I can tell. That's why you +see those briar scratches on my leggins, Sol.” + +“Then we cannot doubt that he is here to stir the Six Nations to +continued war,” said Paul Cotter, “and he will succeed. He is a mighty +chief, and his fire and eloquence will make them take up the hatchet. +I'm glad that we've come. We delayed a league once between the Shawnees +and the Miamis; I don't think we can stop this one, but we may get some +people out of the way before the blow falls.” + +“Who are these Six Nations, whose name sounds so pow'ful big up here?” + asked Long Jim. + +“Their name is as big as it sounds,” replied Henry. “They are the +Onondagas, the Mohawks, Oneidas, Senecas, Cayugas, and Tuscaroras. They +used to be the Five Nations, but the Tuscaroras came up from the south +and fought against them so bravely that they were adopted into the +league, as a new and friendly tribe. The Onondagas, so I've heard, +formed the league a long, long time ago, and their head chief is the +grand sachem or high priest of them all, but the head chief of the +Mohawks is the leading war chief.” + +“I've heard,” said Paul, “that the Wyandots are kinsmen of all +these tribes, and on that account they will listen with all the more +friendliness to Timmendiquas.” + +“Seems to me,” said Tom Ross, “that we've got a most tre-men-je-ous big +job ahead.” + +“Then,” said Henry, “we must make a most tremendous big effort.” + +“That's so,” agreed all. + +After that they spoke little. The last coals were covered up, and the +remainder of the food was put in their pouches. Then they sat on +the leaves, and every one meditated until such time as he might have +something worth saying. Henry's thoughts traveled on a wide course, but +they always came back to one point. They had heard much at Pittsburgh of +a famous Mohawk chief called Thayendanegea, but most often known to +the Americans as Brant. He was young, able, and filled with intense +animosity against the white people, who encroached, every year, more and +more upon the Indian hunting grounds. His was a soul full kin to that of +Timmendiquas, and if the two met it meant a great council and a greater +endeavor for the undoing of the white man. What more likely than that +they intended to meet? + +“All of you have heard of Thayendanegea, the Mohawk?” said Henry. + +They nodded. + +“It's my opinion that Timmendiquas is on the way to meet him. I remember +hearing a hunter say at Pittsburgh that about a hundred miles to the +east of this point was a Long House or Council House of the Six Nations. +Timmendiquas is sure to go there, and we must go, too. We must find out +where they intend to strike. What do you say?” + +“We go there!” exclaimed four voices together. + +Seldom has a council of war been followed by action so promptly. + +As Henry spoke the last word he rose, and the others rose with him. +Saying no more, he led toward the east, and the others followed him, +also saying no more. Separately every one of them was strong, brave, and +resourceful, but when the five were together they felt that they had the +skill and strength of twenty. The long rest at Pittsburgh had restored +them after the dangers and hardship of their great voyage from New +Orleans. + +They carried in horn and pouch ample supplies of powder and bullet, and +they did not fear any task. + +Their journey continued through hilly country, clothed in heavy forest, +but often without undergrowth. They avoided the open spaces, preferring +to be seen of men, who were sure to be red men, as little as possible. +Their caution was well taken. They saw Indian signs, once a feather that +had fallen from a scalp lock, once footprints, and once the bone of a +deer recently thrown away by him who had eaten the meat from it. The +country seemed to be as wild as that of Kentucky. Small settlements, so +they had heard, were scattered at great distances through the forest, +but they saw none. There was no cabin smoke, no trail of the plow, just +the woods and the hills and the clear streams. Buffalo had never reached +this region, but deer were abundant, and they risked a shot to replenish +their supplies. + +They camped the second night of their march on a little peninsula at the +confluence of two creeks, with the deep woods everywhere. Henry judged +that they were well within the western range of the Six Nations, and +they cooked their deer meat over a smothered fire, nothing more than +a few coals among the leaves. When supper was over they arranged soft +places for themselves and their blankets, all except Long Jim, whose +turn it was to scout among the woods for a possible foe. + +“Don't be gone long, Jim,” said Henry as he composed himself in a +comfortable position. “A circle of a half mile about us will do.” + +“I'll not be gone more'n an hour,” said Long Jim, picking up his rifle +confidently, and flitting away among the woods. + +“Not likely he'll see anything,” said Shif'less Sol, “but I'd shorely +like to know what White Lightning is about. He must be terrible stirred +up by them beatin's he got down on the Ohio, an' they say that Mohawk, +Thayendanegea is a whoppin' big chief, too. They'll shorely make a heap +of trouble.” + +“But both of them are far from here just now,” said Henry, “and we won't +bother about either.” + +He was lying on some leaves at the foot of a tree with his arm under +his head and his blanket over his body. He had a remarkable capacity for +dismissing trouble or apprehension, and just then he was enjoying great +physical and mental peace. He looked through half closed eyes at his +comrades, who also were enjoying repose, and his fancy could reproduce +Long Jim in the forest, slipping from tree to tree and bush to bush, and +finding no menace. + +“Feels good, doesn't it, Henry?” said the shiftless one. “I like a +clean, bold country like this. No more plowin' around in swamps for me.” + +“Yes,” said Henry sleepily, “it's a good country.” + +The hour slipped smoothly by, and Paul said: + +“Time for Long Jim to be back.” + +“Jim don't do things by halves,” said the shiftless one. “Guess he's +beatin' up every squar' inch o' the bushes. He'll be here soon.” + +A quarter of an hour passed, and Long Jim did not return; a half hour, +and no sign of him. Henry cast off the blanket and stood up. The night +was not very dark and he could see some distance, but he did not see +their comrade. + +“I wonder why he's so slow,” he said with a faint trace of anxiety. + +“He'll be 'long directly,” said Tom Ross with confidence. + +Another quarter of an hour, and no Long Jim. Henry sent forth the low +penetrating cry of the wolf that they used so often as a signal. + +“He cannot fail to hear that,” he said, “and he'll answer.” + +No answer came. The four looked at one another in alarm. Long Jim had +been gone nearly two hours, and he was long overdue. His failure to +reply to the signal indicated either that something ominous had happened +or that--he had gone much farther than they meant for him to go. + +The others had risen to their feet, also, and they stood a little while +in silence. + +“What do you think it means?” asked Paul. + +“It must be all right,” said Shif'less Sol. “Mebbe Jim has lost the +camp.” + +Henry shook his head. + +“It isn't that,” he said. “Jim is too good a woodsman for such a +mistake. I don't want to look on the black side, boys, but I think +something has happened to Jim.” + +“Suppose you an' me go an' look for him,” said Shif'less Sol, “while +Paul and Tom stay here an' keep house.” + +“We'd better do it,” said Henry. “Come, Sol.” + +The two, rifles in the hollows of their arms, disappeared in the +darkness, while Tom and Paul withdrew into the deepest shadow of the +trees and waited. + +Henry and the shiftless one pursued an anxious quest, going about the +camp in a great circle and then in another yet greater. They did not +find Jim, and the dusk was so great that they saw no evidences of his +trail. Long Jim had disappeared as completely as if he had left the +earth for another planet. When they felt that they must abandon the +search for the time, Henry and Shif'less Sol looked at each other in a +dismay that the dusk could not hide. + +“Mebbe be saw some kind uv a sign, an' has followed it,” said the +shiftless one hopefully. “If anything looked mysterious an' troublesome, +Jim would want to hunt it down.” + +“I hope so,” said Henry, “but we've got to go back to the camp now and +report failure. Perhaps he'll show up to-morrow, but I don't like it, +Sol, I don't like it!” + +“No more do I,” said Shif'less Sol. “'Tain't like Jim not to come back, +ef he could. Mebbe he'll drop in afore day, anyhow.” + +They returned to the camp, and two inquiring figures rose up out of the +darkness. + +“You ain't seen him?” said Tom, noting that but two figures had +returned. + +“Not a trace,” replied Henry. “It's a singular thing.” + +The four talked together a little while, and they were far from +cheerful. Then three sought sleep, while Henry stayed on watch, sitting +with his back against a tree and his rifle on his knees. All the peace +and content that he had felt earlier in the evening were gone. He was +oppressed by a sense of danger, mysterious and powerful. It did not seem +possible that Long Jim could have gone away in such a noiseless manner, +leaving no trace behind. But it was true. + +He watched with both ear and eye as much for Long Jim as for an enemy. +He was still hopeful that he would see the long, thin figure coming +among the bushes, and then hear the old pleasant drawl. But he did not +see the figure, nor did he hear the drawl. + +Time passed with the usual slow step when one watches. Paul, Sol, and +Tom were asleep, but Henry was never wider awake in his life. He tried +to put away the feeling of mystery and danger. He assured himself that +Long Jim would soon come, delayed by some trail that he had sought to +solve. Nothing could have happened to a man so brave and skillful. His +nerves must be growing weak when he allowed himself to be troubled so +much by a delayed return. + +But the new hours came, one by one, and Long Jim came with none of them. +The night remained fairly light, with a good moon, but the light that it +threw over the forest was gray and uncanny. Henry's feeling of mystery +and danger deepened. Once he thought he heard a rustling in the thicket +and, finger on the trigger of his rifle, he stole among the bushes to +discover what caused it. He found nothing and, returning to his lonely +watch, saw that Paul, Sol, and Tom were still sleeping soundly. But +Henry was annoyed greatly by the noise, and yet more by his failure to +trace its origin. After an hour's watching he looked a second time. The +result was once more in vain, and he resumed his seat upon the leaves, +with his back reclining against an oak. Here, despite the fact that the +night was growing darker, nothing within range of a rifle shot could +escape his eyes. + +Nothing stirred. The noise did not come a second time from the thicket. +The very silence was oppressive. There was no wind, not even a stray +puff, and the bushes never rustled. Henry longed for a noise of some +kind to break that terrible, oppressive silence. What he really wished +to hear was the soft crunch of Long Jim's moccasins on the grass and +leaves. + +The night passed, the day came, and Henry awakened his comrades. Long +Jim was still missing and their alarm was justified. Whatever trail lie +might have struck, he would have returned in the night unless something +had happened to him. Henry had vague theories, but nothing definite, and +he kept them to himself. Yet they must make a change in their plans. To +go on and leave Long Jim to whatever fate might be his was unthinkable. +No task could interfere with the duty of the five to one another. + +“We are in one of the most dangerous of all the Indian countries,” said +Henry. “We are on the fringe of the region over which the Six Nations +roam, and we know that Timmendiquas and a band of the Wyandots are here +also. Perhaps Miamis and Shawnees have come, too.” + +“We've got to find Long Jim,” said Silent Tom briefly. + +They went about their task in five minutes. Breakfast consisted of cold +venison and a drink from a brook. Then they began to search the forest. +They felt sure that such woodsmen as they, with the daylight to help +them, would find some trace of Long Jim, but they saw none at all, +although they constantly widened their circle, and again tried all their +signals. Half the forenoon passed in the vain search, and then they held +a council. + +“I think we'd better scatter,” said Shif'less Sol, “an' meet here again +when the sun marks noon.” + +It was agreed, and they took careful note of the place, a little hill +crowned with a thick cluster of black oaks, a landmark easy to remember. +Henry turned toward the south, and the forest was so dense that in two +minutes all his comrades were lost to sight. He went several miles, +and his search was most rigid. He was amazed to find that the sense of +mystery and danger that he attributed to the darkness of the night did +not disappear wholly in the bright daylight. His spirit, usually so +optimistic, was oppressed by it, and he had no belief that they would +find Long Jim. + +At the set time he returned to the little hill crowned with the black +oaks, and as he approached it from one side he saw Shif'less Sol coming +from another. The shiftless one walked despondently. His gait was loose +and shambling-a rare thing with him, and Henry knew that he, too, +had failed. He realized now that he had not expected anything else. +Shif'less Sol shook his head, sat down on a root and said nothing. Henry +sat down, also, and the two exchanged a look of discouragement. + +“The others will be here directly,” said Henry, “and perhaps Long Jim +will be with one of them.” + +But in his heart he knew that it would not be so, and the shiftless one +knew that he had no confidence in his own words. + +“If not,” said Henry, resolved to see the better side, “we'll stay +anyhow until we find him. We can't spare good old Long Jim.” + +Shif'less Sol did not reply, nor did Henry speak again, until lie saw +the bushes moving slightly three or four hundred yards away. + +“There comes Tom,” he said, after a single comprehensive glance, “and +he's alone.” + +Tom Ross was also a dejected figure. He looked at the two on the hill, +and, seeing that the man for whom they were searching was not with them, +became more dejected than before. + +“Paul's our last chance,” he said, as he joined them. “He's gen'rally a +lucky boy, an' mebbe it will be so with him to-day.” + +“I hope so,” said Henry fervently. “He ought to be along in a few +minutes.” + +They waited patiently, although they really had no belief that Paul +would bring in the missing man, but Paul was late. The noon hour was +well past. Henry took a glance at the sun. Noon was gone at least a half +hour, and he stirred uneasily. + +“Paul couldn't get lost in broad daylight,” he said. + +“No,” said Shif'less Sol, “he couldn't get lost!” + +Henry noticed his emphasis on the word “lost,” and a sudden fear sprang +up in his heart. Some power had taken away Long Jim; could the same +power have seized Paul? It was a premonition, and he paled under his +brown, turning away lest the others see his face. All three now examined +the whole circle of the horizon for a sight of moving bushes that would +tell of the boy's coming. + +The forest told nothing. The sun blazed brightly over everything, and +Paul, like Long Jim, did not come. He was an hour past due, and the +three, oppressed already by Long jim's disappearance, were convinced +that he would not return. But they gave him a half hour longer. Then +Henry said: + +“We must hunt for him, but we must not separate. Whatever happens we +three must stay together.” + +“I'm not hankerin' to roam 'roun jest now all by myself,” said the +shiftless one, with an uneasy laugh. + +The three hunted all that afternoon for Paul. Once they saw trace of +footsteps, apparently his, in some soft earth, but they were quickly, +lost on hard ground, and after that there was nothing. They stopped +shortly before sunset at the edge of a narrow but deep creek. + +“What do you think of it, Henry?” asked Shif'less Sol. + +“I don't know what to think,” replied the youth, “but it seems to me +that whatever took away Jim has taken away Paul, also.” + +“Looks like it,” said Sol, “an' I guess it follers that we're in the +same kind o' danger.” + +“We three of us could put up a good fight,” said Henry, “and I propose +that we don't go back to that camp, but spend the night here.” + +“Yes, an' watch good,” said Tom Ross. + +Their new camp was made quickly in silence, merely the grass under the +low boughs of a tree. Their supper was a little venison, and then they +watched the coming of the darkness. It was a heavy hour for the three. +Long Jim was gone, and then Paul-Paul, the youngest, and, in a way, the +pet of the little band. + +“Ef we could only know how it happened,” whispered Shif'less Sol, “then +we might rise up an' fight the danger an' git Paul an' Jim back. But you +can't shoot at somethin' you don't see or hear. In all them fights o' +ours, on the Ohio an' Mississippi we knowed what wuz ag'inst us, but +here we don't know nothin'.” + +“It is true, Sol,” sighed Henry. “We were making such big plans, too, +and before we can even start our force is cut nearly in half. To-morrow +we'll begin the hunt again. We'll never desert Paul and Jim, so long as +we don't know they're dead.” + +“It's my watch,” said Tom. “You two sleep. We've got to keep our +strength.” + +Henry and the shiftless one acquiesced, and seeking the softest spots +under the tree sat down. Tom Ross took his place about ten feet in front +of them, sitting on the ground, with his hands clasped around his knees, +and his rifle resting on his arm. Henry watched him idly for a little +while, thinking all the time of his lost comrades. The night promised to +be dark, a good thing for them, as the need of hiding was too evident. + +Shif'less Sol soon fell asleep, as Henry, only three feet away, knew by +his soft and regular breathing, but the boy himself was still wide-eyed. + +The darkness seemed to sink down like a great blanket dropping slowly, +and the area of Henry's vision narrowed to a small circle. Within this +area the distinctive object was the figure of Tom Ross, sitting with +his rifle across his knees. Tom had an infinite capacity for immobility. +Henry had never seen another man, not even an Indian, who could remain +so long in one position contented and happy. He believed that the silent +one could sit as he was all night. + +His surmise about Tom began to have a kind of fascination for him. Would +he remain absolutely still? He would certainly shift an arm or a leg. +Henry's interest in the question kept him awake. He turned silently +on the other side, but, no matter how intently he studied the sitting +figure of his comrade, he could not see it stir. He did not know how +long he had been awake, trying thus to decide a question that should be +of no importance at such a time. Although unable to sleep, he fell into +a dreamy condition, and continued vaguely to watch the rigid and silent +sentinel. + +He suddenly saw Tom stir, and he came from his state of languor. The +exciting question was solved at last. The man would not sit all night +absolutely immovable. There could be no doubt of the fact that he had +raised an arm, and that his figure had straightened. Then he stood +up, full height, remained motionless for perhaps ten seconds, and then +suddenly glided away among the bushes. + +Henry knew what this meant. Tom had heard something moving in the +thickets, and, like a good sentinel, he had gone to investigate. A +rabbit, doubtless, or perhaps a sneaking raccoon. Henry rose to a +sitting position, and drew his own rifle across his knees. He would +watch while Tom was gone, and then lie would sink quietly back, not +letting his comrade know that lie had taken his place. + +The faintest of winds began to stir among the thickets. Light clouds +drifted before the moon. Henry, sitting with his rifle across his knees, +and Shif'less Sol, asleep in the shadows, were invisible, but Henry saw +beyond the circle of darkness that enveloped them into the grayish light +that fell over the bushes. He marked the particular point at which he +expected Tom Ross to appear, a slight opening that held out invitation +for the passage of a man. + +He waited a long time, ten minutes, twenty, a half hour, and the +sentinel did not return. Henry came abruptly out of his dreamy state. +He felt with all the terrible thrill of certainty that what happened to +Long Jim and Paul had happened also to Silent Tom Ross. He stood erect, +a tense, tall figure, alarmed, but not afraid. His eyes searched the +thickets, but saw nothing. The slight movement of the bushes was made by +the wind, and no other sound reached his ears. + +But he might be mistaken after all! The most convincing premonitions +were sometimes wrong! He would give Tom ten minutes more, and he sank +down in a crouching position, where he would offer the least target for +the eye. + +The appointed time passed, and neither sight nor sound revealed any sign +of Tom Ross. Then Henry awakened Shif'less Sol, and whispered to him all +that he had seen. + +“Whatever took Jim and Paul has took him,” whispered the shiftless one +at once. + +Henry nodded. + +“An' we're bound to look for him right now,” continued Shif'less Sol. + +“Yes,” said Henry, “but we must stay together. If we follow the others, +Sol, we must follow 'em together.” + +“It would be safer,” said Sol. “I've an idee that we won't find Tom, an' +I want to tell you, Henry, this thing is gittin' on my nerves.” + +It was certainly on Henry's, also, but without reply he led the way into +the bushes, and they sought long and well for Silent Tom, keeping at the +same time a thorough watch for any danger that might molest themselves. +But no danger showed, nor did they find Tom or his trail. He, too, +had vanished into nothingness, and Henry and Sol, despite their mental +strength, felt cold shivers. They came back at last, far toward morning, +to the bank of the creek. It was here as elsewhere a narrow but deep +stream flowing between banks so densely wooded that they were almost +like walls. + +“It will be daylight soon,” said Shif'less Sol, “an' I think we'd better +lay low in thicket an' watch. It looks ez ef we couldn't find anything, +so we'd better wait an' see what will find us.” + +“It looks like the best plan to me,” said Henry, “but I think we might +first hunt a while on the other side of the creek. We haven't looked any +over there.” + +“That's so,” replied Shif'less Sol, “but the water is at least seven +feet deep here, an' we don't want to make any splash swimmin'. Suppose +you go up stream, an' I go down, an' the one that finds a ford first kin +give a signal. One uv us ought to strike shallow water in three or four +hundred yards.” + +Henry followed the current toward the south, while Sol moved up the +stream. The boy went cautiously through the dense foliage, and the creek +soon grew wider and shallower. At a distance of about three hundred +yards lie came to a point where it could be waded easily. Then he +uttered the low cry that was their signal, and went back to meet +Shif'less Sol. He reached the exact point at which they had parted, and +waited. The shiftless one did not come. The last of his comrades was +gone, and he was alone in the forest. + + + + +CHAPTER III. THE HUT ON THE ISLET + + +Henry Ware waited at least a quarter of an hour by the creek on the +exact spot at which he and Solomon Hyde, called the shiftless one, had +parted, but he knew all the while that his last comrade was not coming. +The same powerful and mysterious hand that swept the others away had +taken him, the wary and cunning Shif'less Sol, master of forest lore and +with all the five senses developed to the highest pitch. Yet his powers +had availed him nothing, and the boy again felt that cold chill running +down his spine. + +Henry expected the omnipotent force to come against him, also, but his +instinctive caution made him turn and creep into the thickest of the +forest, continuing until he found a place in the bushes so thoroughly +hidden that no one could see him ten feet away. There he lay down +and rapidly ran over in his mind the events connected with the four +disappearances. They were few, and he had little on which to go, but his +duty to seek his four comrades, since he alone must do it, was all the +greater. Such a thought as deserting them and fleeing for his own +life never entered his mind. He would not only seek them, but he would +penetrate the mystery of the power that had taken them. + +It was like him now to go about his work with calmness and method. To +approach an arduous task right one must possess freshness and vigor, and +one could have neither without sleep. His present place of hiding seemed +to be as secure as any that could be found. So composing himself he took +all chances and sought slumber. Yet it needed a great effort of the will +to calm his nerves, and it was a half hour before he began to feel any +of the soothing effect that precedes sleep. But fall asleep he did at +last, and, despite everything, he slept soundly until the morning. + +Henry did not awake to a bright day. The sun had risen, but it was +obscured by gray clouds, and the whole heavens were somber. A cold wind +began to blow, and with it came drops of rain. He shivered despite the +enfolding blanket. The coming of the morning had invariably brought +cheerfulness and increase of spirits, but now he felt depression. He +foresaw heavy rain again, and it would destroy any but the deepest +trail. Moreover, his supplies of food were exhausted and he must +replenish them in some manner before proceeding further. + +A spirit even as bold and strong as Henry's might well have despaired. +He had found his comrades, only to lose them again, and the danger that +had threatened them, and the elements as well, now threatened him, too. +An acute judge of sky and air, he knew that the rain, cold, insistent, +penetrating, would fall all day, and that he must seek shelter if he +would keep his strength. The Indians themselves always took to cover at +such times. + +He wrapped the blanket around himself, covering his body well from neck +to ankle, putting his rifle just inside the fold, but with his hand +upon it, ready for instant use if it should be needed. Then he started, +walking straight ahead until he came to the crown of a little hill. +The clouds meanwhile thickened, and the rain, of the kind that he had +foreseen and as cold as ice, was blown against him. The grass and bushes +were reeking, and his moccasins became sodden. Despite the vigorous +walking, lie felt the wet cold entering his system. There come times +when the hardiest must yield, and he saw the increasing need of refuge. + +He surveyed the country attentively from the low hill. All around was a +dull gray horizon from which the icy rain dripped everywhere. There was +no open country. All was forest, and the heavy rolling masses of foliage +dripped with icy water, too. + +Toward the south the land seemed to dip down, and Henry surmised that in +a valley he would be more likely to find the shelter that he craved. He +needed it badly. As he stood there he shivered again and again from +head to foot, despite the folds of the blanket. So he started at once, +walking fast, and feeling little fear of a foe. It was not likely that +any would be seeking him at such a time. The rain struck him squarely +in the face now. Water came from his moccasins every time his foot was +pressed against the earth, and, no matter how closely he drew the folds +of the blanket, little streams of it, like ice to the touch, flowed down +his neck and made their way under his clothing. He could not remember a +time when he had felt more miserable. + +He came in about an hour to the dip which, as he had surmised, was the +edge of a considerable valley. He ran down the slope, and looked all +about for some place of shelter, a thick windbreak in the lee of a hill, +or an outcropping of stone, but he saw neither, and, as he continued +the search, he came to marshy ground. He saw ahead among the weeds and +bushes the gleam of standing pools, and he was about to turn back, when +he noticed three or four stones, in a row and about a yard from one +another, projecting slightly above the black muck. It struck him that +the stones would not naturally be in the soft mud, and, his curiosity +aroused, he stepped lightly from one stone to another. When he came to +the last stone that he had seen from the hard ground he beheld several +more that had been hidden from him by the bushes. Sure now that he had +happened upon something not created by nature alone, he followed these +stones, leading like steps into the very depths of the swamp, which was +now deep and dark with ooze all about him. He no longer doubted that the +stones, the artificial presence of which might have escaped the keenest +eye and most logical mind, were placed there for a purpose, and he was +resolved to know its nature. + +The stepping stones led him about sixty yards into the swamp, and the +last thirty yards were at an angle from the first thirty. Then he came +to a bit of hard ground, a tiny islet in the mire, upon which he could +stand without sinking at all. He looked back from there, and he could +not see his point of departure. Bushes, weeds, and saplings grew out of +the swamp to a height of a dozen or fifteen feet, and he was inclosed +completely. All the vegetation dripped with cold water, and the place +was one of the most dismal that he had ever seen. But he had no thought +of turning back. + +Henry made a shrewd guess as to whither the path led, but he inferred +from the appearance of the stepping stones-chiefly from the fact that +an odd one here and there had sunk completely out of sight-that they had +not been used in a long time, perhaps for years. He found on the other +side of the islet a second line of stones, and they led across a marsh, +that was almost like a black liquid, to another and larger island. + +Here the ground was quite firm, supporting a thick growth of large +trees. It seemed to Henry that this island might be seventy or eighty +yards across, and he began at once to explore it. In the center, +surrounded so closely by swamp oaks that they almost formed a living +wall, he found what he had hoped to find, and his relief was so great +that, despite his natural and trained stoicism, he gave a little cry of +pleasure when he saw it. + +A small lodge, made chiefly of poles and bark after the Iroquois +fashion, stood within the circle of the trees, occupying almost the +whole of the space. It was apparently abandoned long ago, and time +and weather had done it much damage. But the bark walls, although they +leaned in places at dangerous angles, still stood. The bark roof was +pierced by holes on one side, but on the other it was still solid, and +shed all the rain from its slope. + +The door was open, but a shutter made of heavy pieces of bark cunningly +joined together leaned against the wall, and Henry saw that he could +make use of it. He stepped inside. The hut had a bark floor which was +dry on one side, where the roof was solid, but dripping on the other. +Several old articles of Indian use lay about. In one corner was a basket +woven of split willow and still fit for service. There were pieces of +thread made of Indian hemp and the inner bark of the elm. There were +also a piece of pottery and a large, beautifully carved wooden spoon +such as every Iroquois carried. In the corner farthest from the door +was a rude fireplace made of large flat stones, although there was no +opening for the smoke. + +Henry surveyed it all thoughtfully, and he came to the conclusion that +it was a hut for hunting, built by some warrior of an inquiring mind who +had found this secret place, and who had recognized its possibilities. +Here after an expedition for game he could lie hidden from enemies and +take his comfort without fear. Doubtless he had sat in this hut on rainy +days like the present one and smoked his pipe in the long, patient calm +of which the Indian is capable. + +Yes, there was the pipe, unnoticed before, trumpet shaped and carved +beautifully, lying on a small bark shelf. Henry picked it tip and +examined the bowl. It was as dry as a bone, and not a particle of +tobacco was left there. He believed that it had not been used for at +least a year. Doubtless the Indian who had built this hunting lodge had +fallen in some foray, and the secret of it had been lost until Henry +Ware, seeking through the cold and rain, had stumbled upon it. + +It was nothing but a dilapidated little lodge of poles and bark, all +a-leak, but the materials of a house were there, and Henry was strong +and skillful. He covered the holes in the roof with fallen pieces of +bark, laying heavy pieces of wood across them to hold them in place. +Then he lifted the bark shutter into position and closed the door. Some +drops of rain still came in through the roof, but they were not many, +and he would not mind them for the present. Then he opened the door and +began his hardest task. + +He intended to build a fire on the flat stones, and, securing fallen +wood, he stripped off the bark and cut splinters from the inside. It was +slow work and he was very cold, his wet feet sending chills through +him, but he persevered, and the little heap of dry splinters grew to +a respectable size. Then he cut larger pieces, laying them on one side +while he worked with his flint and steel on the splinters. + +Flint and steel are not easily handled even by the most skillful, and +Henry saw the spark leap up and die out many times before it finally +took hold of the end of the tiniest splinter and grew. He watched it +as it ran along the little piece of wood and ignited another and then +another, the beautiful little red and yellow flames leaping up half a +foot in height. Already he felt the grateful warmth and glow, but he +would not let himself indulge in premature joy. He fed it with larger +and larger pieces until the flames, a deeper and more beautiful red and +yellow, rose at least two feet, and big coals began to form. He left +the door open a while in order that the smoke might go out, but when the +fire had become mostly coals he closed it again, all except a crack of +about six inches, which would serve at once to let any stray smoke out, +and to let plenty of fresh air in. + +Now Henry, all his preparations made, no detail neglected, proceeded to +luxuriate. He spread the soaked blanket out on the bark floor, took off +the sodden moccasins and placed them at one angle of the fire, while +he sat with his bare feet in front. What a glorious warmth it was! It +seemed to enter at his toes and proceed upward through his body, seeking +out every little nook and cranny, to dry and warm it, and fill it full +of new glow and life. + +He sat there a long time, his being radiating with physical comfort. The +moccasins dried on one side, and he turned the other. Finally they dried +all over and all through, and he put them on again. Then he hung the +blanket on the bark wall near the fire, and it, too, would be dry in +another hour or so. He foresaw a warm and dry place for the night, and +sleep. Now if one only had food! But he must do without that for the +present. + +He rose and tested all his bones and muscles. No stiffness or soreness +had come from the rain and cold, and he was satisfied. He was fit for +any physical emergency. He looked out through the crevice. Night was +coming, and on the little island in the swamp it looked inexpressibly +black and gloomy. His stomach complained, but he shrugged his shoulders, +acknowledging primitive necessity, and resumed his seat by the fire. +There he sat until the blanket had dried, and deep night had fully come. + +In the last hour or two Henry did not move. He remained before the fire, +crouched slightly forward, while the generous heat fed the flame of life +in him. A glowing bar, penetrating the crevice at the door, fell on the +earth outside, but it did not pass beyond the close group of circling +trees. The rain still fell with uncommon steadiness and persistence, +but at times hail was mingled with it. Henry could not remember in his +experience a more desolate night. It seemed that the whole world dwelt +in perpetual darkness, and that he was the only living being on it. +Yet within the four or five feet square of the hut it was warm +and bright, and he was not unhappy. + +He would forget the pangs of hunger, and, wrapping himself in the dry +blanket, he lay down before the bed of coals, having first raked ashes +over them, and he slept one of the soundest sleeps of his life. All +night long, the dull cold rain fell, and with it, at intervals, came +gusts of hail that rattled like bird shot on the bark walls of the hut. +Some of the white pellets blew in at the door, and lay for a moment or +two on the floor, then melted in the glow of the fire, and were gone. + +But neither wind, rain nor hail awoke Henry. He was as safe, for the +time, in the hut on the islet, as if he were in the fort at Pittsburgh +or behind the palisades at Wareville. Dawn came, the sky still heavy and +dark with clouds, and the rain still falling. + +Henry, after his first sense of refreshment and pleasure, became +conscious of a fierce hunger that no amount of the will could now keep +quiet. His was a powerful system, needing much nourishment, and he must +eat. That hunger became so great that it was acute physical pain. He +was assailed by it at all points, and it could be repelled by only one +thing, food. He must go forth, taking all risks, and seek it. + +He put on fresh wood, covering it with ashes in order that it might not +blaze too high, and left the islet. The stepping stones were slippery +with water, and his moccasins soon became soaked again, but he forgot +the cold and wet in that ferocious hunger, the attacks of which became +more violent every minute. He was hopeful that he might see a deer, or +even a squirrel, but the animals themselves were likely to keep under +cover in such a rain. He expected a hard hunt, and it would be attended +also by much danger--these woods must be full of Indians--but he thought +little of the risk. His hunger was taking complete possession of his +mind. He was realizing now that one might want a thing so much that it +would drive away all other thoughts. + +Rifle in hand, ready for any quick shot, he searched hour after hour +through the woods and thickets. He was wet, bedraggled, and as fierce +as a famishing panther, but neither skill nor instinct guided him to +anything. The rabbit hid in his burrow, the squirrel remained in his +hollow tree, and the deer did not leave his covert. + +Henry could not well calculate the passage of time, it seemed so +fearfully long, and there was no one to tell him, but he judged that +it must be about noon, and his temper was becoming that of the famished +panther to which he likened himself. He paused and looked around the +circle of the dripping woods. He had retained his idea of direction and +he knew that he could go straight back to the hut in the swamp. But he +had no idea of returning now. A power that neither he nor anyone else +could resist was pushing him on his search. + +Searching the gloomy horizon again, he saw against the dark sky a +thin and darker line that he knew to be smoke. He inferred, also, with +certainty, that it came from an Indian camp, and, without hesitation, +turned his course toward it. Indian camp though it might be, and +containing the deadliest of foes, he was glad to know something lived +beside himself in this wilderness. + +He approached with great caution, and found his surmise to be correct. +Lying full length in a wet thicket he saw a party of about twenty +warriors-Mohawks he took them to be-in an oak opening. They had erected +bark shelters, they had good fires, and they were cooking. He saw them +roasting the strips over the coals-bear meat, venison, squirrel, rabbit, +bird-and the odor, so pleasant at other times, assailed his nostrils. +But it was now only a taunt and a torment. It aroused every possible +pang of hunger, and every one of them stabbed like a knife. + +The warriors, so secure in their forest isolation, kept no sentinels, +and they were enjoying themselves like men who had everything they +wanted. Henry could hear them laughing and talking, and he watched them +as they ate strip after strip of the delicate, tender meat with the +wonderful appetite that the Indian has after long fasting. A fierce, +unreasoning anger and jealousy laid hold of him. He was starving, and +they rejoiced in plenty only fifty yards away. He began to form plans +for a piratical incursion upon them. Half the body of a deer lay near +the edge of the opening, he would rush upon it, seize it, and dart away. +It might be possible to escape with such spoil. + +Then he recalled his prudence. Such a thing was impossible. The whole +band of warriors would be upon him in an instant. The best thing that he +could do was to shut out the sight of so much luxury in which he could +not share, and he crept away among the bushes wondering what he could +do to drive away those terrible pains. His vigorous system was crying +louder than ever for the food that would sustain it. His eyes were +burning a little too brightly, and his face was touched with fever. + +Henry stopped once to catch a last glimpse of the fires and the feasting +Indians under the bark shelters. He saw a warrior raise a bone, grasping +it in both hands, and bite deep into the tender flesh that clothed it. +The sight inflamed him into an anger almost uncontrollable. He clenched +his fist and shook it at the warrior, who little suspected the proximity +of a hatred so intense. Then he bent his head down and rushed away among +the wet bushes which in rebuke at his lack of caution raked him across +the face. + +Henry walked despondently back toward the islet in the swamp. The aspect +of air and sky had not changed. The heavens still dripped icy water, +and there was no ray of cheerfulness anywhere. The game remained well +hidden. + +It was a long journey back, and as he felt that he was growing weak he +made no haste. He came to dense clumps of bushes, and plowing his way +through them, he saw a dark opening under some trees thrown down by an +old hurricane. Having some vague idea that it might be the lair of a +wild animal, he thrust the muzzle of his rifle into the darkness. It +touched a soft substance. There was a growl, and a black form shot out +almost into his face. Henry sprang aside, and in an instant all his +powers and faculties returned. He had stirred up a black bear, and +before the animal, frightened as much as he was enraged, could run far +the boy, careless how many Indians might hear, threw up his rifle and +fired. + +His aim was good. The bear, shot through the head, fell, and was dead. +Henry, transformed, ran up to him. Bear life had been given up to +sustain man's. Here was food for many days, and he rejoiced with a great +joy. He did not now envy those warriors back there. + +The bear, although small, was very fat. Evidently he had fed well on +acorns and wild honey, and he would yield up steaks which, to one with +Henry's appetite, would be beyond compare. He calculated that it was +more than a mile to the swamp, and, after a few preliminaries, he flung +the body of the bear over his shoulder. Through some power of the mind +over the body his full strength had returned to him miraculously, and +when he reached the stepping stones he crossed from one to another +lightly and firmly, despite the weight that he carried. + +He came to the little bark hut which he now considered his own. The +night had fallen again, but some coals still glowed under the ashes, and +there was plenty of dry wood. He did everything decently and in order. +He took the pelt from the bear, carved the body properly, and then, just +as the Indians had done, he broiled strips over the coals. He ate them +one after another, slowly, and tasting all the savor, and, intense as +was the mere physical pleasure, it was mingled with a deep thankfulness. +Not only was the life nourished anew in him, but he would now regain the +strength to seek his comrades. + +When he had eaten enough he fastened the body of the bear, now in +several portions, on hooks high upon the walls, hooks which evidently +had been placed there by the former owner of the hut for this very +purpose. Then, sure that the savor of the food would draw other wild +animals, he brought one of the stepping stones and placed it on the +inside of the door. The door could not be pushed aside without arousing +him, and, secure in the knowledge, he went to sleep before the coals. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. THE RED CHIEFS + + +Henry awoke only once, and that was about half way between midnight and +morning, when his senses, never still entirely, even in sleep, warned +him that something was at the door. He rose cautiously upon his arm, saw +a dark muzzle at the crevice, and behind it a pair of yellow, gleaming +eyes. He knew at once that it was a panther, probably living in the +swamp and drawn by the food. It must be very hungry to dare thus the +smell of man. Henry's hand moved slowly to the end of a stick, the +other end of which was a glowing coal. Then he seized it and hurled it +directly at the inquisitive head. + +The hot end of the stick struck squarely between the yellow eyes. There +was a yelp of pain, and the boy heard the rapid pad of the big cat's +feet as it fled into the swamp. Then he turned over on his side, and +laughed in genuine pleasure at what was to him a true forest joke. He +knew the panther would not come, at least not while he was in the hut, +and he calmly closed his eyes once more. The old Henry was himself +again. + +He awoke in the morning to find that the cold rain was still falling. It +seemed to him that it had prepared to rain forever, but he was resolved, +nevertheless, now that he had food and the strength that food brings, to +begin the search for his comrades. The islet in the swamp would serve as +his base-nothing could be better-and he would never cease until he found +them or discovered what had become of them. + +A little spring of cold water flowed from the edge of the islet to lose +itself quickly in the swamp. Henry drank there after his breakfast, and +then felt as strong and active as ever. As he knew, the mind may triumph +over the body, but the mind cannot save the body without food. Then +he made his precious bear meat secure against the prowling panther or +others of his kind, tying it on hanging boughs too high for a jump and +too slender to support the weight of a large animal. This task finished +quickly, he left the swamp and returned toward the spot where lie had +seen the Mohawks. + +The falling rain and the somber clouds helped Henry, in a way, as the +whole forest was enveloped in a sort of gloom, and he was less likely to +be seen. But when he had gone about half the distance he heard Indians +signaling to one another, and, burying himself as usual in the wet +bushes, he saw two small groups of warriors meet and talk. Presently +they separated, one party going toward the east and the other toward the +west. Henry thought they were out hunting, as the Indians usually took +little care of the morrow, eating all their food in a few days, no +matter how great the supply might be. + +When he drew near the place he saw three more Indians, and these were +traveling directly south. He was quite sure now that his theory was +correct. They were sending out hunters in every direction, in order that +they might beat up the woods thoroughly for game, and his own position +anywhere except on the islet was becoming exceedingly precarious. +Nevertheless, using all his wonderful skill, he continued the hunt. He +had an abiding faith that his four comrades were yet alive, and he meant +to prove it. + +In the afternoon the clouds moved away a little, and the rain decreased, +though it did not cease. The Indian signs multiplied, and Henry felt +sure that the forest within a radius of twenty miles of his islet +contained more than one camp. Some great gathering must be in progress +and the hunters were out to supply it with food. Four times he heard +the sound of shots, and thrice more he saw warriors passing through +the forest. Once a wounded deer darted past him, and, lying down in the +bushes, he saw the Indians following the fleeing animal. As the day grew +older the trails multiplied. Certainly a formidable gathering of bands +was in progress, and, feeling that he might at any time be caught in a +net, he returned to the islet, which had now become a veritable fort for +him. + +It was not quite dark when he arrived, and he found all as it had been +except the tracks of two panthers under the boughs to which he +had fastened the big pieces of bear meat. Henry felt a malicious +satisfaction at the disappointment of the panthers. + +“Come again, and have the same bad luck,” he murmured. + +At dusk the rain ceased entirely, and he prepared for a journey in the +night. He examined his powder carefully to see that no particle of it +was wet, counted the bullets in his pouch, and then examined the skies. +There was a little moon, not too much, enough to show him the way, but +not enough to disclose him to an enemy unless very near. Then he left +the islet and went swiftly through the forest, laying his course a third +time toward the Indian camp. He was sure now that all the hunters had +returned, and he did not expect the necessity of making any stops for +the purpose of hiding. His hopes were justified, and as he drew near the +camp he became aware that its population had increased greatly. It was +proved by many signs. New trails converged upon it, and some of them +were very broad, indicating that many warriors had passed. They +had passed, too, in perfect confidence, as there was no effort at +concealment, and Henry surmised that no white force of any size could +be within many days' march of this place. But the very security of the +Indians helped his own design. They would not dream that any one of the +hated race was daring to come almost within the light of their fires. + +Henry had but one fear just now, and that was dogs. If the Indians had +any of their mongrel curs with them, they would quickly scent him +out and give the alarm with their barking. But he believed that the +probabilities were against it. This, so he thought then, was a war or +hunting camp, and it was likely that the Indians would leave the dogs +at their permanent villages. At any rate he would take the risk, and +he drew slowly toward the oak opening, where some Indians stood about. +Beyond them, in another dip of the valley, was a wider opening which +he had not seen on his first trip, and this contained not only bark +shelters, but buildings that indicated a permanent village. The second +and larger opening was filled with a great concourse of warriors. + +Fortunately the foliage around the opening was very dense, many trees +and thickets everywhere. Henry crept to the very rim, where, lying in +the blackest of the shadows, and well hidden himself, he could yet see +nearly everything in the camp. The men were not eating now, although it +was obvious that the hunters had done well. The dressed bodies of deer +and bear hung in the bark shelters. Most of the Indians sat about the +fires, and it seemed to Henry that they had an air of expectancy. At +least two hundred were present, and all of them were in war paint, +although there were several styles of paint. There was a difference +in appearance, too, in the warriors, and Henry surmised that +representatives of all the tribes of the Iroquois were there, coming to +the extreme western boundary or fringe of their country. + +While Henry watched them a half dozen who seemed by their bearing and +manner to be chiefs drew together at a point not far from him and talked +together earnestly. Now and then they looked toward the forest, and +he was quite sure that they were expecting somebody, a person of +importance. He became deeply interested. He was lying in a dense clump +of hazel bushes, flat upon his stomach, his face raised but little above +the ground. He would have been hidden from the keenest eye only ten feet +away, but the faces of the chiefs outlined against the blazing firelight +were so clearly visible to him that he could see every change of +expression. They were fine-looking men, all of middle age, tall, lean, +their noses hooked, features cut clean and strong, and their heads +shaved, all except the defiant scalp lock, into which the feather of +an eagle was twisted. Their bodies were draped in fine red or blue +blankets, and they wore leggins and moccasins of beautifully tanned +deerskin. + +They ceased talking presently, and Henry heard a distant wailing note +from the west. Some one in the camp replied with a cry in kind, and then +a silence fell upon them all. The chiefs stood erect, looking toward the +west. Henry knew that he whom they expected was at hand. + +The cry was repeated, but much nearer, and a warrior leaped into the +opening, in the full blaze of the firelight. He was entirely naked save +for a breech cloth and moccasins, and he was a wild and savage figure. +He stood for a moment or two, then faced the chiefs, and, bowing before +them, spoke a few words in the Wyandot tongue-Henry knew already by his +paint that he was a Wyandot. + +The chiefs inclined their heads gravely, and the herald, turning, leaped +back into the forest. In two or three minutes six men, including the +herald, emerged from the woods, and Henry moved a little when he saw the +first of the six, all of whom were Wyandots. It was Timmendiquas, head +chief of the Wyandots, and Henry had never seen him more splendid in +manner and bearing than he was as he thus met the representatives of the +famous Six Nations. Small though the Wyandot tribe might be, mighty was +its valor and fame, and White Lightning met the great Iroquois only as +an equal, in his heart a superior. + +It was an extraordinary thing, but Henry, at this very moment, burrowing +in the earth that he might not lose his life at the hands of either, was +an ardent partisan of Timmendiquas. It was the young Wyandot chief +whom he wished to be first, to make the greatest impression, and he was +pleased when he heard the low hum of admiration go round the circle of +two hundred savage warriors. It was seldom, indeed, perhaps never, that +the Iroquois had looked upon such a man as Timmendiquas. + +Timmendiquas and his companions advanced slowly toward the chiefs, and +the Wyandot overtopped all the Iroquois. Henry could tell by the manner +of the chiefs that the reputation of the famous White Lightning had +preceded him, and that they had already found fact equal to report. + +The chiefs, Timmendiquas among them, sat down on logs before the fire, +and all the warriors withdrew to a respectful distance, where they stood +and watched in silence. The oldest chief took his long pipe, beautifully +carved and shaped like a trumpet, and filled it with tobacco which he +lighted with a coal from the fire. Then he took two or three whiffs and +passed the pipe to Timmendiquas, who did the same. Every chief smoked +the pipe, and then they sat still, waiting in silence. + +Henry was so much absorbed in this scene, which was at once a spectacle +and a drama, that he almost forgot where he was, and that he was an +enemy. He wondered now at their silence. If this was a council surely +they would discuss whatever question had brought them there! But he was +soon enlightened. That low far cry came again, but from the east. It +was answered, as before, from the camp, and in three or four minutes a +warrior sprang from the forest into the opening. Like the first, he was +naked except for the breech cloth and moccasins. The chiefs rose at his +coming, received his salute gravely, and returned it as gravely. Then +he returned to the forest, and all waited in the splendid calm of the +Indian. + +Curiosity pricked Henry like a nettle. Who was coming now? It must be +some man of great importance, or they would not wait so silently. +There was the same air of expectancy that had preceded the arrival of +Timmendiquas. All the warriors looked toward the eastern wall of the +forest, and Henry looked the same way. Presently the black foliage +parted, and a man stepped forth, followed at a little distance by seven +or eight others. The stranger, although tall, was not equal in height to +Timmendiquas, but he, too, had a lofty and splendid presence, and it +was evident to anyone versed at all in forest lore that here was a great +chief. He was lean but sinewy, and he moved with great ease and grace. +He reminded Henry of a powerful panther. He was dressed, after the +manner of famous chiefs, with the utmost care. His short military coat +of fine blue cloth bore a silver epaulet on either shoulder. His +head was not bare, disclosing the scalp lock, like those of the other +Indians; it was covered instead with a small hat of felt, round and +laced. Hanging carelessly over one shoulder was a blanket of blue cloth +with a red border. At his side, from a belt of blue leather swung a +silver-mounted small sword. His leggins were of superfine blue cloth and +his moccasins of deerskin. Both were trimmed with small beads of many +colors. + +The new chief advanced into the opening amid the dead silence that still +held all, and Timmendiquas stepped forward to meet him. These two held +the gaze of everyone, and what they and they alone did had become of +surpassing interest. Each was haughty, fully aware of his own dignity +and importance, but they met half way, looked intently for a moment or +two into the eyes of each other, and then saluted gravely. + +All at once Henry knew the stranger. He had never seen him before, but +his impressive reception, and the mixture of military and savage attire +revealed him. This could be none other than the great Mohawk war chief, +Thayendanegea, the Brant of the white men, terrible name on the border. +Henry gazed at him eagerly from his covert, etching his features forever +on his memory. His face, lean and strong, was molded much like that of +Timmendiquas, and like the Wyandot he was young, under thirty. + +Timmendiquas and Thayendanegea-it was truly he-returned to the fire, +and once again the trumpet-shaped pipe was smoked by all. The two young +chiefs received the seats of favor, and others sat about them. But they +were not the only great chiefs present, though all yielded first place +to them because of their character and exploits. + +Henry was not mistaken in his guess that this was an important council, +although its extent exceeded even his surmise. Delegates and head chiefs +of all the Six Nations were present to confer with the warlike Wyandots +of the west who had come so far east to meet them. Thayendanegea was the +great war chief of the Mohawks, but not their titular chief. The latter +was an older man, Te-kie-ho-ke (Two Voices), who sat beside the younger. +The other chiefs were the Onondaga, Tahtoo-ta-hoo (The Entangled); the +Oneida, O-tat-sheh-te (Bearing a Quiver); the Cayuga, Te-ka-ha-hoonk (He +Who Looks Both Ways); the Seneca, Kan-ya-tai-jo (Beautiful Lake); and +the Tuscarora, Ta-ha-en-te-yahwak-hon (Encircling and Holding Up a +Tree). The names were hereditary, and because in a dim past they had +formed the great confederacy, the Onondagas were first in the council, +and were also the high priests and titular head of the Six Nations. But +the Mohawks were first on-the war path. + +All the Six Nations were divided into clans, and every clan, camping in +its proper place, was represented at this meeting. + +Henry had heard much at Pittsburgh of the Six Nations, their wonderful +league, and their wonderful history. He knew that according to the +legend the league had been formed by Hiawatha, an Onondaga. He was +opposed in this plan by Tododaho, then head chief of the Onondagas, +but he went to the Mohawks and gained the support of their great +chief, Dekanawidah. With his aid the league was formed, and the solemn +agreement, never broken, was made at the Onondaga Lake. Now they were a +perfect little state, with fifty chiefs, or, including the head chiefs, +fifty-six. + +Some of these details Henry was to learn later. He was also to learn +many of the words that the chiefs said through a source of which he +little dreamed at the present. Yet he divined much of it from the +meeting of the fiery Wyandots with the highly developed and warlike +power of the Six Nations. + +Thayendanegea was talking now, and Timmendiquas, silent and grave, was +listening. The Mohawk approached his subject indirectly through the +trope, allegory, and simile that the Indian loved. He talked of the +unseen deities that ruled the life of the Iroquois through mystic +dreams. He spoke of the trees, the rocks, and the animals, all of which +to the Iroquois had souls. He called on the name of the Great Spirit, +which was Aieroski before it became Manitou, the Great Spirit who, in +the Iroquois belief, had only the size of a dwarf because his soul was +so mighty that he did not need body. + +“This land is ours, the land of your people and mine, oh, chief of the +brave Wyandots,” he said to Timmendiquas. “Once there was no land, only +the waters, but Aieroski raised the land of Konspioni above the foam. +Then he sowed five handfuls of red seed in it, and from those handfuls +grew the Five Nations. Later grew up the Tuscaroras, who have joined +us and other tribes of our race, like yours, great chief of the brave +Wyandots.” + +Timmendiquas still said nothing. He did not allow an eyelid to flicker +at this assumption of superiority for the Six Nations over all other +tribes. A great warrior he was, a great politician also, and he wished +to unite the Iroquois in a firm league with the tribes of the Ohio +valley. The coals from the great fire glowed and threw out an intense +heat. Thayendanegea unbuttoned his military coat and threw it back, +revealing a bare bronze chest, upon which was painted the device of +the Mohawks, a flint and steel. The chests of the Onondaga, Cayuga, and +Seneca head chiefs were also bared to the glow. The device on the chest +of the Onondaga was a cabin on top of a hill, the Caytiga's was a great +pipe, and the figure of a mountain adorned the Seneca bronze. + +“We have had the messages that you have sent to us, Timmendiquas,” + said Thayendanegea, “and they are good in the eyes of our people, the +Rotinonsionni (the Mohawks). They please, too, the ancient tribe, the +Kannoseone (the Onondagas), the valiant Hotinonsionni (the Senecas), and +all our brethren of the Six Nations. All the land from the salt water to +the setting sun was given to the red men by Aieroski, but if we do not +defend it we cannot keep it.” + +“It is so,” said Timmendiquas, speaking for the first time. “We have +fought them on the Ohio and in Kaintuck-ee, where they come with their +rifles and axes. The whole might of the Wyandots, the Shawnees, the +Miamis, the Illinois, the Delawares, and the Ottawas has gone forth +against them. We have slain many of them, but we have failed to drive +them back. Now we have come to ask the Six Nations to press down upon +them in the east with all your power, while we do the same in the west. +Surely then your Aieroski and our Manitou, who are the same, will not +refuse us success.” + +The eyes of Thayendanegea glistened. + +“You speak well, Timmendiquas,” he said. “All the red men must unite to +fight for the land of Konspioni which Aieroski raised above the sea, and +we be two, you and I, Timmendiquas, fit to lead them to battle.” + +“It is so,” said Timmendiquas gravely. + + + + +CHAPTER V. THE IROQUOIS TOWN + + +Henry lay fully an hour in the bushes. He had forgotten about the dogs +that he dreaded, but evidently he was right in his surmise that the +camp contained none. Nothing disturbed him while he stared at what was +passing by the firelight. There could be no doubt that the meeting of +Timmendiquas and Thayendanegea portended great things, but he would not +be stirred from his task of rescuing his comrades or discovering their +fate. + +They two, great chiefs, sat long in close converse. Others-older men, +chiefs, also-came at times and talked with them. But these two, proud, +dominating, both singularly handsome men of the Indian type, were always +there. Henry was almost ready to steal away when he saw a new figure +approaching the two chiefs. The walk and bearing of the stranger were +familiar, and HENRY knew him even before his face was lighted tip by +the fire. It was Braxton Wyatt, the renegade, who had escaped the great +battles on both the Ohio and the Mississippi, and who was here with the +Iroquois, ready to do to his own race all the evil that he could. Henry +felt a shudder of repulsion, deeper than any Indian could inspire in +him. They fought for their own land and their own people, but Braxton +Wyatt had violated everything that an honest man should hold sacred. + +Henry, on the whole, was not surprised to see him. Such a chance was +sure to draw Braxton Wyatt. Moreover, the war, so far as it pertained to +the border, seemed to be sweeping toward the northeast, and it bore many +stormy petrels upon its crest. + +He watched Wyatt as he walked toward one of the fires. There the +renegade sat down and talked with the warriors, apparently on the best +of terms. He was presently joined by two more renegades, whom Henry +recognized as Blackstaffe and Quarles. Timmendiquas and Thayendanegea +rose after a while, and walked toward the center of the camp, where +several of the bark shelters had been enclosed entirely. Henry judged +that one had been set apart for each, but they were lost from his view +when they passed within the circling ring of warriors. + +Henry believed that the Iroquois and Wyandots would form a fortified +camp here, a place from which they would make sudden and terrible forays +upon the settlements. He based his opinion upon the good location and +the great number of saplings that had been cut down already. They would +build strong lodges and then a palisade around them with the saplings. +He was speedily confirmed in this opinion when he saw warriors come to +the forest with hatchets and begin to cut down more saplings. He knew +then that it was time to go, as a wood chopper might blunder upon him at +any time. + +He slipped from his covert and was quickly gone in the forest. His limbs +were somewhat stiff from lying so long in one position, but that soon +wore away, and he was comparatively fresh when he came once more to the +islet in the swamp. A good moon was now shining, tipping the forest with +a fine silvery gray, and Henry purveyed with the greatest satisfaction +the simple little shelter that he had found so opportunely. It was a +good house, too, good to such a son of the deepest forest as was Henry. +It was made of nothing but bark and poles, but it had kept out all +that long, penetrating rain of the last three or four days, and when he +lifted the big stone aside and opened the door it seemed as snug a place +as he could have wished. + +He left the door open a little, lighted a small fire on the flat stones, +having no fear that it would be seen through the dense curtain that shut +him in, and broiled big bear steaks on the coals. When he had eaten +and the fire had died he went out and sat beside the hut. He was well +satisfied with the day's work, and he wished now to think with all +the concentration that one must put upon a great task if he expects to +achieve it. He intended to invade the Indian camp, and he knew full well +that it was the most perilous enterprise that he had ever attempted. +Yet scouts and hunters had done such things and had escaped with their +lives. He must not shrink from the path that others had trodden. + +He made up his mind firmly, and partly thought out his plan of +operations. Then he rested, and so sanguine was his temperament that he +began to regard the deed itself as almost achieved. Decision is always +soothing after doubt, and he fell into a pleasant dreamy state. A gentle +wind was blowing, the forest was dry and the leaves rustled with the low +note that is like the softest chord of a violin. It became penetrating, +thrillingly sweet, and hark! it spoke to him in a voice that he knew. +It was the same voice that he had heard on the Ohio, mystic, but telling +him to be of heart and courage. He would triumph over hardships and +dangers, and he would see his friends again. + +Henry started up from his vision. The song was gone, and he heard only +the wind softly moving the leaves. It had been vague and shadowy as +gossamer, light as the substance of a dream, but it was real to him, +nevertheless, and the deep glow of certain triumph permeated his being, +body and mind. It was not strange that he had in his nature something +of the Indian mysticism that personified the winds and the trees +and everything about him. The Manitou of the red man and the ancient +Aieroski of the Iroquois were the same as his own God. He could not +doubt that he had a message. Down on the Ohio he had had the same +message more than once, and it had always come true. + +He heard a slight rustling among the bushes, and, sitting perfectly +still, he saw a black bear emerge into the open. It had gained the islet +in some manner, probably floundering through the black mire, and the +thought occurred to him that it was the mate of the one he had slain, +drawn perhaps by instinct on the trail of a lost comrade. He could +have shot the bear as he sat-and he would need fresh supplies of food +soon-but he did not have the heart to do it. + +The bear sniffed a little at the wind, which was blowing the human odor +away from him, and sat back on his haunches. Henry did not believe that +the animal had seen him or was yet aware of his presence, although he +might suspect. There was something humorous and also pathetic in the +visitor, who cocked his head on one side and looked about him. He made +a distinct appeal to Henry, who sat absolutely still, so still that +the little bear could not be sure at first that he was a human being. +A minute passed, and the red eye of the bear rested upon the boy. Henry +felt pleasant and sociable, but he knew that he could retain friendly +relations only by remaining quiet. + +“If I have eaten your comrade, my friend,” he said to himself, “it is +only because of hard necessity.” The bear, little, comic, and yet with +that touch of pathos about him, cocked his head a little further over on +one side, and as a silver shaft of moonlight fell upon him Henry could +see one red eye gleaming. It was a singular fact, but the boy, alone +in the wilderness, and the loser of his comrades, felt for the moment a +sense of comradeship with the bear, which was also alone, and doubtless +the loser of a comrade, also. He uttered a soft growling sound like the +satisfied purr of a bear eating its food. + +The comical bear rose a little higher on his hind paws, and looked in +astonishment at the motionless figure that uttered sounds so familiar. +Yet the figure was not familiar. He had never seen a human being before, +and the shape and outline were very strange to him. It might be some new +kind of animal, and he was disposed to be inquiring, because there was +nothing in these forests which the black bear was afraid of until man +came. + +He advanced a step or two and growled gently. Then he reared up again +on his hind paws, and cocked his held to one side in his amusing manner. +Henry, still motionless, smiled at him. Here, for an instant at least, +was a cheery visitor and companionship. He at least would not break the +spell. + +“You look almost as if you could talk, old fellow,” he said to himself, +“and if I knew your language I'd ask you a lot of questions.” + +The bear, too, was motionless now, torn by doubt and curiosity. It +certainly was a singular figure that sat there, fifteen or twenty yards +before him, and he had the most intense curiosity to solve the mystery +of this creature. But caution held him back. + +There was a sudden flaw in the light breeze. It shifted about and +brought the dreadful man odor to the nostrils of the honest black bear. +It was something entirely new to him, but it contained the quality of +fear. That still strange figure was his deadliest foe. Dropping down +upon his four paws, he fled among the trees, and then scrambled somehow +through the swamp to the mainland. + +Henry sighed. Despite his own friendly feeling, the bear, warned by +instinct, was afraid of him, and, as he was bound to acknowledge to +himself, the bear's instinct was doubtless right. He rose, went into +the hut, and slept heavily through the night. In the morning he left +the islet once more to scout in the direction of the Indian camp, but he +found it a most dangerous task. The woods were full of warriors hunting. +As he had judged, the game was abundant, and he heard rifles cracking +in several directions. He loitered, therefore, in the thickest of the +thickets, willing to wait until night came for his enterprise. It was +advisable, moreover, to wait, because he did not see yet just how he was +going to succeed. He spent nearly the whole day shifting here and there +through the forest, but late in the afternoon, as the Indians yet seemed +so numerous in the woods, he concluded to go back toward the islet. + +He was about two miles from the swamp when he heard a cry, sharp but +distant. It was that of the savages, and Henry instinctively divined the +cause. A party of the warriors had come somehow upon his trail, and they +would surely follow it. It was a mischance that he had not expected. +He waited a minute or two, and then heard the cry again, but nearer. +He knew that it would come no more, but it confirmed him in his first +opinion. + +Henry had little fear of being caught, as the islet was so securely +hidden, but he did not wish to take even a remote chance of its +discovery. Hence he ran to the eastward of it, intending as the darkness +came, hiding his trail, to double back and regain the hut. + +He proceeded at a long, easy gait, his mind not troubled by the pursuit. +It was to him merely an incident that should be ended as soon as +possible, annoying perhaps, but easily cured. So he swung lightly along, +stopping at intervals among the bushes to see if any of the warriors had +drawn near, but he detected nothing. Now and then he looked up to the +sky, willing that night should end this matter quickly and peacefully. + +His wish seemed near fulfillment. An uncommonly brilliant sun was +setting. The whole west was a sea of red and yellow fire, but in the +east the forest was already sinking into the dark. He turned now, and +went back toward the west on a line parallel with the pursuit, but much +closer to the swamp. The dusk thickened rapidly. The sun dropped over +the curve of the world, and the vast complex maze of trunks and boughs +melted into a solid black wall. The incident of the pursuit was over and +with it its petty annoyances. He directed his course boldly now for the +stepping stones, and traveled fast. Soon the first of them would be less +than a hundred yards away. + +But the incident was not over. Wary and skillful though the young forest +runner might be, he had made one miscalculation, and it led to great +consequences. As he skirted the edge of the swamp in the darkness, now +fully come, a dusky figure suddenly appeared. It was a stray warrior +from some small band, wandering about at will. The meeting was probably +as little expected by him as it was by Henry, and they were so close +together when they saw each other that neither had time to raise his +rifle. The warrior, a tall, powerful man, dropping his gun and snatching +out a knife, sprang at once upon his enemy. + +Henry was borne back by the weight and impact, but, making an immense +effort, he recovered himself and, seizing the wrist of the Indian's +knife hand, exerted all his great strength. The warrior wished to change +the weapon from his right band, but he dared not let go with the other +lest he be thrown down at once, and with great violence. His first +rush having failed, he was now at a disadvantage, as the Indian is not +generally a wrestler. Henry pushed him back, and his hand closed tighter +and tighter around the red wrist. He wished to tear the knife from it, +but he, too, was afraid to let go with the other hand, and so the two +remained locked fast. Neither uttered a cry after the first contact, and +the only sounds in the dark were their hard breathing, which turned to a +gasp now and then, and the shuffle of their feet over the earth. + +Henry felt that it must end soon. One or the other must give way. Their +sinews were already strained to the cracking point, and making a supreme +effort he bore all his weight upon the warrior, who, unable to sustain +himself, went down with the youth upon him. The Indian uttered a groan, +and Henry, leaping instantly to his feet, looked down upon his fallen +antagonist, who did not stir. He knew the cause. As they fell the point +of the knife bad been turned upward, and it had entered the Indian's +heart. + +Although he had been in peril at his hands, Henry looked at the slain +man in a sort of pity. He had not wished to take anyone's life, and, in +reality, he had not been the direct cause of it. But it was a stern time +and the feeling soon passed. The Wyandot, for such he was by his paint, +would never have felt a particle of remorse had the victory been his. + +The moon was now coming out, and Henry looked down thoughtfully at the +still face. Then the idea came to him, in fact leaped up in his brain, +with such an impulse that it carried conviction. He would take this +warrior's place and go to the Indian camp. So eager was he, and so +full of his plan, that he did not feel any repulsion as he opened the +warrior's deerskin shirt and took his totem from a place near his heart. +It was a little deerskin bag containing a bunch of red feathers. This +was his charm, his magic spell, his bringer of good luck, which had +failed him so woefully this time. Henry, not without a touch of the +forest belief, put it inside his own hunting shirt, wishing, although +he laughed at himself, that if the red man's medicine had any potency it +should be on his own side. + +Then he found also the little bag in which the Indian carried his war +paint and the feather brush with which he put it on. The next hour +witnessed a singular transformation. A white youth was turned into a red +warrior. He cut his own hair closely, all except a tuft in the center, +with his sharp hunting knife. The tuft and the close crop he stained +black with the Indian's paint. It was a poor black, but he hoped that +it would pass in the night. He drew the tuft into a scalplock, and +intertwined it with a feather from the Indian's own tuft. Then he +stained his face, neck, hands, and arms with the red paint, and stood +forth a powerful young warrior of a western nation. + +He hid the Indian's weapons and his own raccoon-skin cap in the brush. +Then he took the body of the fallen warrior to the edge of the swamp and +dropped it in. His object was not alone concealment, but burial as well. +He still felt sorry for the unfortunate Wyandot, and he watched him +until he sank completely from sight in the mire. Then he turned away and +traveled a straight course toward the great Indian camp. + +He stopped once on the way at a clear pool irradiated by the bright +moonlight, and looked attentively at his reflection. By night, at least, +it was certainly that of an Indian, and, summoning all his confidence, +he continued upon his chosen and desperate task. + +Henry knew that the chances were against him, even with his disguise, +but he was bound to enter the Indian camp, and he was prepared to incur +all risks and to endure all penalties. He even felt a certain lightness +of heart as he hurried on his way, and at length saw through the forest +the flare of light from the Indian camp. + +He approached cautiously at first in order that he might take a good +look into the camp, and he was surprised at what he saw. In a single +day the village had been enlarged much more. It seemed to him that it +contained at least twice as many warriors. Women and children, too, had +come, and he heard a stray dog barking here and there. Many more fires +than usual were burning, and there was a great murmur of voices. + +Henry was much taken aback at first. It seemed that he was about to +plunge into the midst of the whole Iroquois nation, and at a time, +too, when something of extreme importance was going on, but a little +reflection showed that he was fortunate. Amid so many people, and so +much ferment it was not at all likely that he would be noticed closely. +It was his intention, if the necessity came, to pass himself off as a +warrior of the Shawnee tribe who had wandered far eastward, but he meant +to avoid sedulously the eye of Timmendiquas, who might, through his size +and stature, divine his identity. + +As Henry lingered at the edge of the camp, in indecision whether to wait +a little or plunge boldly into the light of the fires, he became aware +that all sounds in the village-for such it was instead of a camp-had +ceased suddenly, except the light tread of feet and the sound of many +people talking low. He saw through the bushes that all the Iroquois, and +with them the detachment of Wyandots under White Lightning, were going +toward a large structure in the center, which he surmised to be the +Council House. He knew from his experience with the Indians farther west +that the Iroquois built such structures. + +He could no longer doubt that some ceremony of the greatest importance +was about to begin, and, dismissing indecision, he left the bushes +and entered the village, going with the crowd toward the great pole +building, which was, indeed, the Council House. + +But little attention was paid to Henry. He would have drawn none at all, +had it not been for his height, and when a warrior or two glanced at him +he uttered some words in Shawnee, saying that he had wandered far, +and was glad to come to the hospitable Iroquois. One who could speak +a little Shawnee bade him welcome, and they went on, satisfied, their +minds more intent upon the ceremony than upon a visitor. + +The Council House, built of light poles and covered with poles and +thatch, was at least sixty feet long and about thirty feet wide, with a +large door on the eastern side, and one or two smaller ones on the other +sides. As Henry arrived, the great chiefs and sub-chiefs of the Iroquois +were entering the building, and about it were grouped many warriors and +women, and even children. But all preserved a decorous solemnity, and, +knowing the customs of the forest people so well, he was sure that the +ceremony, whatever it might be, must be of a highly sacred nature. He +himself drew to one side, keeping as much as possible in the shadow, +but he was using to its utmost power every faculty of observation that +Nature had given him. + +Many of the fires were still burning, but the moon had come out with +great brightness, throwing a silver light over the whole village, and +investing with attributes that savored of the mystic and impressive +this ceremony, held by a savage but great race here in the depths of the +primeval forest. Henry was about to witness a Condoling Council, which +was at once a mourning for chiefs who had fallen in battle farther east +with his own people and the election and welcome of their successors. + +The chiefs presently came forth from the Council House or, as it was +more generally called, the Long House, and, despite the greatness of +Thayendanegea, those of the Onondaga tribe, in virtue of their ancient +and undisputed place as the political leaders and high priests of +the Six Nations, led the way. Among the stately Onondaga chiefs were: +Atotarho (The Entangled), Skanawati (Beyond the River), Tehatkahtons +(Looking Both Ways), Tehayatkwarayen (Red Wings), and Hahiron (The +Scattered). They were men of stature and fine countenance, proud of +the titular primacy that belonged to them because it was the Onondaga, +Hiawatha, who had formed the great confederacy more than four hundred +years before our day, or just about the time Columbus was landing on the +shores of the New World. + +Next to the Onondagas came the fierce and warlike Mohawks, who lived +nearest to Albany, who were called Keepers of the Eastern Gate, and who +were fully worthy of their trust. They were content that the Onondagas +should lead in council, so long as they were first in battle, and there +was no jealousy between them. Among their chiefs were Koswensiroutha +(Broad Shoulders) and Satekariwate (Two Things Equal). + +Third in rank were the Senecas, and among their chiefs were Kanokarih +(The Threatened) and Kanyadariyo (Beautiful Lake). + +These three, the Onondagas, Mohawks, and Senecas, were esteemed the +three senior nations. After them, in order of precedence, came +the chiefs of the three junior nations, the Oneidas, Cayugas, and +Tuscaroras. All of the great chiefs had assistant chiefs, usually +relatives, who, in case of death, often succeeded to their places. But +these assistants now remained in the crowd with other minor chiefs and +the mass of the warriors. A little apart stood Timmendiquas and his +Wyandots. He, too, was absorbed in the ceremony so sacred to him, an +Indian, and he did not notice the tall figure of the strange Shawnee +lingering in the deepest of the shadows. + +The head chiefs, walking solemnly and never speaking, marched across the +clearing, and then through the woods to a glen, where two young warriors +had kindled a little fire of sticks as a signal of welcome. The chiefs +gathered around the fire and spoke together in low tones. This was +Deyuhnyon Kwarakda, which means “The Reception at the Edge of the Wood.” + +Henry and some others followed, as it was not forbidden to see, and his +interest increased. He shared the spiritual feeling which was impressed +upon the red faces about him. The bright moonlight, too, added to the +effect, giving it the tinge of an old Druidical ceremony. + +The chiefs relapsed into silence and sat thus about ten minutes. Then +rose the sound of a chant, distant and measured, and a procession of +young and inferior chiefs, led by Oneidas, appeared, slowly approaching +the fire. Behind them were warriors, and behind the warriors were many +women and children. All the women were in their brightest attire, gay +with feather headdresses and red, blue, or green blankets from the +British posts. + +The procession stopped at a distance of about a dozen yards from the +chiefs about the council fire, and the Oneida, Kathlahon, formed the men +in a line facing the head chiefs, with the women and children grouped +in an irregular mass behind them. The singing meanwhile had stopped. The +two groups stood facing each other, attentive and listening. + +Then Hahiron, the oldest of the Onondagas, walked back and forth in the +space between the two groups, chanting a welcome. Like all Indian songs +it was monotonous. Every line he uttered with emphasis and a rising +inflection, the phrase “Haih-haih” which may be translated “Hail to +thee!” or better, “All hail!” Nevertheless, under the moonlight in the +wilderness and with rapt faces about him, it was deeply impressive. +Henry found it so. + +Hahiron finished his round and went back to his place by the fire. +Atotarho, head chief of the Onondagas, holding in his hands beautifully +beaded strings of Iroquois wampum, came forward and made a speech of +condolence, to which Kathlahon responded. Then the head chiefs and +the minor chiefs smoked pipes together, after which the head chiefs, +followed by the minor chiefs, and these in turn by the crowd, led the +way back to the village. + +Many hundreds of persons were in this procession, which was still very +grave and solemn, every one in it impressed by the sacred nature of +this ancient rite. The chief entered the great door of the Long House, +and all who could find places not reserved followed. Henry went in with +the others, and sat in a corner, making himself as small as possible. +Many women, the place of whom was high among the Iroquois, were also in +the Long House. + +The head chiefs sat on raised seats at the north end of the great room. +In front of them, on lower seats, were the minor chiefs of the three +older nations on the left, and of the three younger nations on the +right. In front of these, but sitting on the bark floor, was a group of +warriors. At the east end, on both high and low seats, were warriors, +and facing them on the western side were women, also on both high +and low seats. The southern side facing the chiefs was divided into +sections, each with high and low seats. The one on the left was occupied +by men, and the one on the right by women. Two small fires burned in the +center of the Long House about fifteen feet apart. + +It was the most singular and one of the most impressive scenes that +Henry had ever beheld. When all had found their seats there was a deep +silence. Henry could hear the slight crackling made by the two fires as +they burned, and the light fell faintly across the multitude of dark, +eager faces. Not less than five hundred people were in the Long House, +and here was the red man at his best, the first of the wild, not the +second or third of the civilized, a drop of whose blood in his veins +brings to the white man now a sense of pride, and not of shame, as it +does when that blood belongs to some other races. + +The effect upon Henry was singular. He almost forgot that he was a foe +among them on a mission. For the moment he shared in their feelings, and +he waited with eagerness for whatever might come. + +Thayendanegea, the Mohawk, stood up in his place among the great chiefs. +The role he was about to assume belonged to Atotarho, the Onondaga, +but the old Onondaga assigned it for the occasion to Thayendanegea, and +there was no objection. Thayendanegea was an educated man, he had been +in England, he was a member of a Christian church, and he had translated +a part of the Bible from English into his own tongue, but now he was all +a Mohawk, a son of the forest. + +He spoke to the listening crowd of the glories of the Six Nations, how +Hah-gweh-di-yu (The Spirit of Good) had inspired Hiawatha to form the +Great Confederacy of the Five Nations, afterwards the Six; how they had +held their hunting grounds for nearly two centuries against both English +and French; and how they would hold them against the Americans. He +stopped at moments, and deep murmurs of approval went through the Long +House. The eyes of both men and women flashed as the orator spoke of +their glory and greatness. Timmendiquas, in a place of honor, nodded +approval. If he could he would form such another league in the west. + +The air in the Long House, breathed by so many, became heated. It seemed +to have in it a touch of fire. The orator's words burned. Swift and deep +impressions were left upon the excited brain. The tall figure of the +Mohawk towered, gigantic, in the half light, and the spell that he threw +over all was complete. + +He spoke about half an hour, but when he stopped he did not sit down. +Henry knew by the deep breath that ran through the Long House that +something more was coming from Thayendanegea. Suddenly the red chief +began to sing in a deep, vibrant voice, and this was the song that he +sung: + + + This was the roll of you, + All hail! All hail! All hail! + + You that joined in the work, + All hail! All hail! All hail! + + You that finished the task, + All hail! All hail! All hail! + + The Great League, + All hail! All hail! All hail! + + +There was the same incessant repetition of “Haih haih!” that Henry had +noticed in the chant at the edge of the woods, but it seemed to give a +cumulative effect, like the roll of thunder, and at every slight pause +that deep breath of approval ran through the crowd in the Long House. +The effect of the song was indescribable. Fire ran in the veins of all, +men, women, and children. The great pulses in their throats leaped up. +They were the mighty nation, the ever-victorious, the League of the +Ho-de-no-sau-nee, that had held at bay both the French and the English +since first a white man was seen in the land, and that would keep back +the Americans now. + +Henry glanced at Timmendiquas. The nostrils of the great White Lightning +were twitching. The song reached to the very roots of his being, and +aroused all his powers. Like Thayendanegea, he was a statesman, and he +saw that the Americans were far more formidable to his race than +English or French had ever been. The Americans were upon the ground, and +incessantly pressed upon the red man, eye to eye. Only powerful leagues +like those of the Iroquois could withstand them. + +Thayendanegea sat down, and then there was another silence, a period +lasting about two minutes. These silences seemed to be a necessary part +of all Iroquois rites. When it closed two young warriors stretched an +elm bark rope across the room from east to west and near the ceiling, +but between the high chiefs and the minor chiefs. Then they hung dressed +skins all along it, until the two grades of chiefs were hidden from the +view of each other. This was the sign of mourning, and was followed by a +silence. The fires in the Long House had died down somewhat, and little +was to be seen but the eyes and general outline of the people. Then a +slender man of middle years, the best singer in all the Iroquois nation, +arose and sang: + + + To the great chiefs bring we greeting, + All hail! All hail! All hail! + + To the dead chiefs, kindred greeting, + All hail! All hail! All hail! + + To the strong men 'round him greeting, + All hail! All hail! All hail! + + To the mourning women greeting, + All hail! All hail! All hail! + + There our grandsires' words repeating, + All hail! All hail! All hail! + + Graciously, Oh, grandsires, hear, + All hail! All hail! All hail! + + +The singing voice was sweet, penetrating, and thrilling, and the song +was sad. At the pauses deep murmurs of sorrow ran through the crowd +in the Long House. Grief for the dead held them all. When he finished, +Satekariwate, the Mohawk, holding in his hands three belts of wampum, +uttered a long historical chant telling of their glorious deeds, to +which they listened patiently. The chant over, he handed the belts to +an attendant, who took them to Thayendanegea, who held them for a few +moments and looked at them gravely. + +One of the wampum belts was black, the sign of mourning; another was +purple, the sign of war; and the third was white, the sign of peace. +They were beautiful pieces of workmanship, very old. + +When Hiawatha left the Onondagas and fled to the Mohawks he crossed a +lake supposed to be the Oneida. While paddling along he noticed that man +tiny black, purple, and white shells clung to his paddle. Reaching the +shore he found such shells in long rows upon the beach, and it occurred +to him to use them for the depiction of thought according to color. He +strung them on threads of elm bark, and afterward, when the great league +was formed, the shells were made to represent five clasped hands. For +four hundred years the wampum belts have been sacred among the Iroquois. + +Now Thayendanegea gave the wampum belts back to the attendant, who +returned them to Satekariwate, the Mohawk. There was a silence once +more, and then the chosen singer began the Consoling Song again, but now +he did not sing it alone. Two hundred male voices joined him, and +the time became faster. Its tone changed from mourning and sorrow +to exultation and menace. Everyone thought of war, the tomahawk, and +victory. The song sung as it was now became a genuine battle song, +rousing and thrilling. The Long House trembled with the mighty chorus, +and its volume poured forth into the encircling dark woods. + +All the time the song was going on, Satekariwate, the Mohawk, stood +holding the belts in his hand, but when it was over he gave them to an +attendant, who carried them to another head chief. Thayendanegea now +went to the center of the room and, standing between the two fires, +asked who were the candidates for the places of the dead chiefs. + +The dead chiefs were three, and three tall men, already chosen among +their own tribes, came forward to succeed them. Then a fourth came, and +Henry was startled. It was Timmendiquas, who, as the bravest chief of +the brave Wyandots, was about to become, as a signal tribute, and as +a great sign of friendship, an adopted son and honorary chief of the +Mohawks, Keepers of the Western Gate, and most warlike of all the +Iroquois tribes. + +As Timmendiquas stood before Thayendanegea, a murmur of approval deeper +than any that had gone before ran through all the crowd in the Long +House, and it was deepest on the women's benches, where sat many matrons +of the Iroquois, some of whom were chiefs-a woman could be a chief among +the Iroquois. + +The candidates were adjudged acceptable by the other chiefs, and +Thayendanegea addressed them on their duties, while they listened +in grave silence. With his address the sacred part of the rite was +concluded. Nothing remained now but the great banquet outside--although +that was much--and they poured forth to it joyously, Thayendanegea, the +Mohawk, and Timmendiquas, the Wyandot, walking side by side, the finest +two red chiefs on all the American continent. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. THE EVIL SPIRIT'S WORK + + +Henry slipped forth with the crowd from the Long House, stooping +somewhat and shrinking into the smallest possible dimensions. But there +was little danger now that any one would notice him, as long as he +behaved with prudence, because all grief and solemnity were thrown +aside, and a thousand red souls intended to rejoice. A vast banquet was +arranged. Great fires leaped up all through the village. At every fire +the Indian women, both young and old, were already far forward with the +cooking. Deer, bear, squirrel, rabbit, fish, and every other variety +of game with which the woods and rivers of western New York and +Pennsylvania swarmed were frying or roasting over the coals, and the air +was permeated with savory odors. There was a great hum of voices and +an incessant chattering. Here in the forest, among themselves, and in +complete security, the Indian stoicism was relaxed. According to their +customs everybody fell to eating at a prodigious rate, as if they had +not tasted anything for a month, and as if they intended to eat enough +now to last another month. + +It was far into the night, because the ceremonies had lasted a long +time, but a brilliant moon shone down upon the feasting crowd, and the +flames of the great fires, yellow and blue, leaped and danced. This was +an oasis of light and life. Timmendiquas and Thayendanegea sat together +before the largest fire, and they ate with more restraint than the +others. Even at the banquet they would not relax their dignity as +great chiefs. Old Skanawati, the Onondaga, old Atotarho, Onondaga, too, +Satekariwate, the Mohawk, Kanokarih, the Seneca, and others, head chiefs +though they were of the three senior tribes, did not hesitate to eat as +the rich Romans of the Empire ate, swallowing immense quantities of all +kinds of meat, and drinking a sort of cider that the women made. Several +warriors ate and drank until they fell down in a stupor by the fires. +The same warriors on the hunt or the war path would go for days without +food, enduring every manner of hardship. Now and then a warrior would +leap up and begin a chant telling of some glorious deed of his. Those at +his own fire would listen, but elsewhere they took no notice. + +In the largest open space a middle-aged Onondaga with a fine face +suddenly uttered a sharp cry: “Hehmio!” which he rapidly repeated twice. +Two score voices instantly replied, “Heh!” and a rush was made for him. +At least a hundred gathered around him, but they stood in a respectful +circle, no one nearer than ten feet. He waved his hand, and all sat down +on the ground. Then, he, too, sat down, all gazing at him intently and +with expectancy. + +He was a professional story-teller, an institution great and honored +among the tribes of the Iroquois farther back even than Hiawatha. He +began at once the story of the warrior who learned to talk with the +deer and the bear, carrying it on through many chapters. Now and then a +delighted listener would cry “Hah!” but if anyone became bored and fell +asleep it was considered an omen of misfortune to the sleeper, and he +was chased ignominiously to his tepee. The Iroquois romancer was better +protected than the white one is. He could finish some of his stories in +one evening, but others were serials. When he arrived at the end of the +night's installment he would cry, “Si-ga!” which was equivalent to our +“To be continued in our next.” Then all would rise, and if tired would +seek sleep, but if not they would catch the closing part of some other +story-teller's romance. + +At three fires Senecas were playing a peculiar little wooden flute of +their own invention, that emitted wailing sounds not without a certain +sweetness. In a corner a half dozen warriors hurt in battle were bathing +their wounds with a soothing lotion made from the sap of the bass wood. + +Henry lingered a while in the darkest corners, witnessing the feasting, +hearing the flutes and the chants, listening for a space to the +story-tellers and the enthusiastic “Hahs!” They were so full of feasting +and merrymaking now that one could almost do as he pleased, and he stole +toward the southern end of the village, where he had noticed several +huts, much more strongly built than the others. Despite all his natural +skill and experience his heart beat very fast when he came to the first. +He was about to achieve the great exploration upon which he had ventured +so much. Whether he would find anything at the end of the risk he ran, +he was soon to see. + +The hut, about seven feet square and as many feet in height, was built +strongly of poles, with a small entrance closed by a clapboard door +fastened stoutly on the outside with withes. The hut was well in the +shadow of tepees, and all were still at the feasting and merrymaking. +He cut the withes with two sweeps of his sharp hunting knife, opened the +door, bent his head, stepped in and then closed the door behind him, in +order that no Iroquois might see what had happened. + +It was not wholly dark in the hut, as there were cracks between the +poles, and bars of moonlight entered, falling upon a floor of bark. They +revealed also a figure lying full length on one side of the hut. A great +pulse of joy leaped up in Henry's throat, and with it was a deep pity, +also. The figure was that of Shif'less Sol, but he was pale and thin, +and his arms and legs were securely bound with thongs of deerskin. + +Leaning over, Henry cut the thongs of the shiftless one, but he did not +stir. Great forester that Shif'less Sol was, and usually so sensitive to +the lightest movement, he perceived nothing now, and, had he not found +him bound, Henry would have been afraid that he was looking upon his +dead comrade. The hands of the shiftless one, when the hands were cut, +had fallen limply by his side, and his face looked all the more pallid +by contrast with the yellow hair which fell in length about it. But it +was his old-time friend, the dauntless Shif'less Sol, the last of the +five to vanish so mysteriously. + +Henry bent down and pulled him by the shoulder. The captive yawned, +stretched himself a little, and lay still again with closed eyes. +Henry shook him a second time and more violently. Shif'less Sol sat up +quickly, and Henry knew that indignation prompted the movement. Sol held +his arms and legs stiffly and seemed to be totally unconscious that they +were unbound. He cast one glance upward, and in the dim light saw the +tall warrior bending over him. + +“I'll never do it, Timmendiquas or White Lightning, whichever name you +like better!” he exclaimed. “I won't show you how to surprise the white +settlements. You can burn me at the stake or tear me in pieces first. +Now go away and let me sleep.” + +He sank back on the bark, and started to close his eyes again. It was +then that he noticed for the first time that his hands were unbound. +He held them up before his face, as if they were strange objects wholly +unattached to himself, and gazed at them in amazement. He moved his legs +and saw that they, too, were unbound. Then he turned his startled gaze +upward at the face of the tall warrior who was looking down at him. +Shif'less Sol was wholly awake now. Every faculty in him was alive, and +he pierced through the Shawnee disguise. He knew who it was. He knew +who had come to save him, and he sprang to his feet, exclaiming the one +word: + +“Henry!” + +The hands of the comrades met in the clasp of friendship which only many +dangers endured together can give. + +“How did you get here?” asked the shiftless one in a whisper. + +“I met an Indian in the forest,” replied Henry, “and well I am now he.” + +Shif'less Sol laughed under his breath. + +“I see,” said he, “but how did you get through the camp? It's a big +one, and the Iroquois are watchful. Timmendiquas is here, too, with his +Wyandots.” + +“They are having a great feast,” replied Henry, “and I could go about +almost unnoticed. Where are the others, Sol?” + +“In the cabins close by.” + +“Then we'll get out of this place. Quick! Tie up your hair! In the +darkness you can easily pass for an Indian.” + +The shiftless one drew his hair into a scalp lock, and the two slipped +from the cabin, closing the door behind them and deftly retying the +thongs, in order that the discovery of the escape might occur as late +as possible. Then they stood a few moments in the shadow of the hut and +listened to the sounds of revelry, the monotone of the story-tellers, +and the chant of the singers. + +“You don't know which huts they are in, do you?” asked Henry, anxiously. + +“No, I don't,” replied the shiftless one. + +“Get back!” exclaimed Henry softly. “Don't you see who's passing out +there?” + +“Braxton Wyatt,” said Sol. “I'd like to get my hands on that scoundrel. +I've had to stand a lot from him.” + +“The score must wait. But first we'll provide you with weapons. See, +the Iroquois have stacked some of their rifles here while they're at the +feast.” + +A dozen good rifles had been left leaning against a hut near by, and +Henry, still watching lest he be observed, chose the best, with its +ammunition, for his comrade, who, owing to his semi-civilized attire, +still remained in the shadow of the other hut. + +“Why not take four?” whispered the shiftless one. “We'll need them for +the other boys.” + +Henry took four, giving two to his comrade, and then they hastily +slipped back to the other side of the hut. A Wyandot and a Mohawk were +passing, and they had eyes of hawks. Henry and Sol waited until the +formidable pair were gone, and then began to examine the huts, trying to +surmise in which their comrades lay. + +“I haven't seen 'em a-tall, a-tall,” said Sol, “but I reckon from the +talk that they are here. I was s'prised in the woods, Henry. A half +dozen reds jumped on me so quick I didn't have time to draw a weepin. +Timmendiquas was at the head uv 'em an' he just grinned. Well, he is a +great chief, if he did truss me up like a fowl. I reckon the same thing +happened to the others.” + +“Come closer, Sol! Come closer!” whispered Henry. “More warriors are +walking this way. The feast is breaking up, and they'll spread all +through the camp.” + +A terrible problem was presented to the two. They could no longer search +among the strong huts, for their comrades. The opportunity to save had +lasted long enough for one only. But border training is stern, and these +two had uncommon courage and decision. + +“We must go now, Sol,” said Henry, “but we'll come back.” + +“Yes,” said the shiftless one, “we'll come back.” + +Darting between the huts, they gained the southern edge of the forest +before the satiated banqueters could suspect the presence of an enemy. +Here they felt themselves safe, but they did not pause. Henry led the +way, and Shif'less Sol followed at a fair degree of speed. + +“You'll have to be patient with me for a little while, Henry,” said +Sol in a tone of humility. “When I wuz layin' thar in the lodge with my +hands an' feet tied I wuz about eighty years old, jest ez stiff ez could +be from the long tyin'. When I reached the edge o' the woods the blood +wuz flowin' lively enough to make me 'bout sixty. Now I reckon I'm +fifty, an' ef things go well I'll be back to my own nateral age in two +or three hours.” + +“You shall have rest before morning,” said Henry, “and it will be in a +good place, too. I can promise that.” + +Shif'less Sol looked at him inquiringly, but he did not say anything. +Like the rest of the five, Sol had acquired the most implicit confidence +in their bold young leader. He had every reason to feel good. That +painful soreness was disappearing from his ankles. As they advanced +through the woods, weeks dropped from him one by one. Then the months +began to roll away, and at last time fell year by year. As they +approached the deeps of the forest where the swamp lay, Solomon Hyde, +the so called shiftless one, and wholly undeserving of the name, was +young again. + +“I've got a fine little home for us, Sol,” said Henry. “Best we've had +since that time we spent a winter on the island in the lake. This is +littler, but it's harder to find. It'll be a fine thing to know you're +sleeping safe and sound with five hundred Iroquois warriors only a few +miles away.” + +“Then it'll suit me mighty well,” said Shif'less Sol, grinning broadly. +“That's jest the place fur a lazy man like your humble servant, which is +me.” + +They reached the stepping stones, and Henry paused a moment. + +“Do you feel steady enough, Sol, to jump from stone to stone?” he asked. + +“I'm feelin' so good I could fly ef I had to,” he replied. “Jest you +jump on, Henry, an' fur every jump you take you'll find me only one jump +behind you!” + +Henry, without further ado, sprang from one stone to another, and behind +him, stone for stone, came the shiftless one. It was now past midnight, +and the moon was obscured. The keenest eyes twenty yards away could +not have seen the two dusky figures as they went by leaps into the very +heart of the great, black swamp. They reached the solid ground, and then +the hut. + +“Here, Sol,” said Henry, “is my house, and yours, also, and soon, I +hope, to be that of Paul, Tom, and Jim, too.” + +“Henry,” said Shif'less Sol, “I'm shorely glad to come.” + +They went inside, stacked their captured rifles against the wall, and +soon were sound asleep. + +Meanwhile sleep was laying hold of the Iroquois village, also. They had +eaten mightily and they had drunk mightily. Many times had they told the +glories of Hode-no-sau-nee, the Great League, and many times had they +gladly acknowledged the valor and worth of Timmendiquas and the brave +little Wyandot nation. Timmendiquas and Thayendanegea had sat side +by side throughout the feast, but often other great chiefs were with +them-Skanawati, Atotarho, and Hahiron, the Onondagas; Satekariwate, the +Mohawk; Kanokarih and Kanyadoriyo, the Senecas; and many others. + +Toward midnight the women and the children left for the lodges, and soon +the warriors began to go also, or fell asleep on the ground, wrapped +in their blankets. The fires were allowed to sink low, and at last the +older chiefs withdrew, leaving only Timmendiquas and Thayendanegea. + +“You have seen the power and spirit of the Iroquois,” said +Thayendanegea. “We can bring many more warriors than are here into the +field, and we will strike the white settlements with you.” + +“The Wyandots are not so many as the warriors of the Great League,” said +Timmendiquas proudly, “but no one has ever been before them in battle.” + +“You speak truth, as I have often heard it,” said Thayendanegea +thoughtfully. Then he showed Timmendiquas to a lodge of honor, the +finest in the village, and retired to his own. + +The great feast was over, but the chiefs had come to a momentous +decision. Still chafing over their defeat at Oriskany, they would make +a new and formidable attack upon the white settlements, and Timmendiquas +and his fierce Wyandots would help them. All of them, from the oldest +to the youngest, rejoiced in the decision, and, not least, the famous +Thayendanegea. He hated the Americans most because they were upon +the soil, and were always pressing forward against the Indian. The +Englishmen were far away, and if they prevailed in the great war, the +march of the American would be less rapid. He would strike once more +with the Englishmen, and the Iroquois could deliver mighty blows on the +American rearguard. He and his Mohawks, proud Keepers of the Western +Gate, would lead in the onset. Thayendanegea considered it a good +night's work, and he slept peacefully. + +The great camp relapsed into silence. The warriors on the ground +breathed perhaps a little heavily after so much feasting, and the fires +were permitted to smolder down to coals. Wolves and panthers drawn by +the scent of food crept through the thickets toward the faint firelight, +but they were afraid to draw near. Morning came, and food and drink +were taken to the lodges in which four prisoners were held, prisoners +of great value, taken by Timmendiquas and the Wyandots, and held at his +urgent insistence as hostages. + +Three were found as they had been left, and when their bonds were +loosened they ate and drank, but the fourth hut was empty. The one who +spoke in a slow, drawling way, and the one who seemed to be the most +dangerous of them all, was gone. Henry and Sol had taken the severed +thongs with them, and there was nothing to show how the prisoner had +disappeared, except that the withes fastening the door had been cut. + +The news spread through the village, and there was much excitement. +Thayendanegea and Timmendiquas came and looked at the empty hut. +Timmendiquas may have suspected how Shif'less Sol had gone, but he said +nothing. Others believed that it was the work of Hahgweh-da-et-gah (The +Spirit of Evil), or perhaps Ga-oh (The Spirit of the Winds) had taken +him away. + +“It is well to keep a good watch on the others,” said Timmendiquas, and +Thayendanegea nodded. + +That day the chiefs entered the Long House again, and held a great war +council. A string of white wampum about a foot in length was passed +to every chief, who held it a moment or two before handing it to his +neighbors. It was then laid on a table in the center of the room, the +ends touching. This signified harmony among the Six Nations. All the +chiefs had been summoned to this place by belts of wampum sent to the +different tribes by runners appointed by the Onondagas, to whom this +honor belonged. All treaties had to be ratified by the exchange of +belts, and now this was done by the assembled chiefs. + +Timmendiquas, as an honorary chief of the Mohawks, and as the real head +of a brave and allied nation, was present throughout the council. His +advice was asked often, and when he gave it the others listened with +gravity and deference. The next day the village played a great game of +lacrosse, which was invented by the Indians, and which had been played +by them for centuries before the arrival of the white man. In this case +the match was on a grand scale, Mohawks and Cayugas against Onondagas +and Senecas. + +The game began about nine o'clock in the morning in a great natural +meadow surrounded by forest. The rival sides assembled opposite each +other and bet heavily. All the stakes, under the law of the game, were +laid upon the ground in heaps here, and they consisted of the articles +most precious to the Iroquois. In these heaps were rifles, tomahawks, +scalping knives, wampum, strips of colored beads, blankets, swords, +belts, moccasins, leggins, and a great many things taken as spoil in +forays on the white settlements, such is small mirrors, brushes of +various kinds, boots, shoes, and other things, the whole making a vast +assortment. + +These heaps represented great wealth to the Iroquois, and the older +chiefs sat beside them in the capacity of stakeholders and judges. + +The combatants, ranged in two long rows, numbered at least five hundred +on each side, and already they began to show an excitement approaching +that which animated them when they would go into battle. Their eyes +glowed, and the muscles on their naked backs and chests were tense for +the spring. In order to leave their limbs perfectly free for effort they +wore no clothing at all, except a little apron reaching from the waist +to the knee. + +The extent of the playground was marked off by two pair of “byes” like +those used in cricket, planted about thirty rods apart. But the goals of +each side were only about thirty feet apart. + +At a signal from the oldest of the chiefs the contestants arranged +themselves in two parallel lines facing each other, inside the area and +about ten rods apart. Every man was armed with a strong stick three and +a half to four feet in length, and curving toward the end. Upon +this curved end was tightly fastened a network of thongs of untanned +deerskin, drawn until they were rigid and taut. The ball with which they +were to play was made of closely wrapped elastic skins, and was about +the size of an ordinary apple. + +At the end of the lines, but about midway between them, sat the chiefs, +who, besides being judges and stakeholders, were also score keepers. +They kept tally of the game by cutting notches upon sticks. Every time +one side put the ball through the other's goal it counted one, but there +was an unusual power exercised by the chiefs, practically unknown to +the games of white men. If one side got too far ahead, its score was +cut down at the discretion of the chiefs in order to keep the game more +even, and also to protract it sometimes over three or four days. The +warriors of the leading side might grumble among one another at the +amount of cutting the chiefs did, but they would not dare to make any +protest. However, the chiefs would never cut the leading side down to an +absolute parity with the other. It was always allowed to retain a margin +of the superiority it had won. + +The game was now about to begin, and the excitement became intense. Even +the old judges leaned forward in their eagerness, while the brown bodies +of the warriors shone in the sun, and the taut muscles leaped up under +the skin. Fifty players on each side, sticks in hand, advanced to the +center of the ground, and arranged themselves somewhat after the fashion +of football players, to intercept the passage of the ball toward their +goals. Now they awaited the coming of the ball. + +There were several young girls, the daughters of chiefs. The most +beautiful of these appeared. She was not more than sixteen or seventeen +years of age, as slender and graceful as a young deer, and she was +dressed in the finest and most richly embroidered deerskin. Her head was +crowned with a red coronet, crested with plumes, made of the feathers of +the eagle and heron. She wore silver bracelets and a silver necklace. + +The girl, bearing in her hand the ball, sprang into the very center of +the arena, where, amid shouts from all the warriors, she placed it upon +the ground. Then she sprang back and joined the throng of spectators. +Two of the players, one from each side, chosen for strength and +dexterity, advanced. They hooked the ball together in their united bats +and thus raised it aloft, until the bats were absolutely perpendicular. +Then with a quick, jerking motion they shot it upward. Much might +be gained by this first shot or stroke, but on this occasion the two +players were equal, and it shot almost absolutely straight into the air. +The nearest groups made a rush for it, and the fray began. + +Not all played at once, as the crowd was so great, but usually twenty or +thirty on each side struck for the ball, and when they became exhausted +or disabled were relieved by similar groups. All eventually came into +action. + +The game was played with the greatest fire and intensity, assuming +sometimes the aspect of a battle. Blows with the formidable sticks were +given and received. Brown skins were streaked with blood, heads were +cracked, and a Cayuga was killed. Such killings were not unusual in +these games, and it was always considered the fault of the man who fell, +due to his own awkwardness or unwariness. The body of the dead Cayuga +was taken away in disgrace. + +All day long the contest was waged with undiminished courage and zeal, +party relieving party. The meadow and the surrounding forest resounded +with the shouts and yells of combatants and spectators. The old squaws +were in a perfect frenzy of excitement, and their shrill screams of +applause or condemnation rose above every other sound. + +On this occasion, as the contest did not last longer than one day, the +chiefs never cut down the score of the leading side. The game closed +at sunset, with the Senecas and Onondagas triumphant, and richer by far +than they were in the morning. The Mohawks and Cayugas retired, stripped +of their goods and crestfallen. + +Timmendiquas and Thayendanegea, acting as umpires watched the game +closely to its finish, but not so the renegades Braxton Wyatt and +Blackstaffe. They and Quarles had wandered eastward with some Delawares, +and had afterward joined the band of Wyandots, though Timmendiquas gave +them no very warm welcome. Quarles had left on some errand a few days +before. They had rejoiced greatly at the trapping of the four, one by +one, in the deep bush. But they had felt anger and disappointment when +the fifth was not taken, also. Now both were concerned and alarmed over +the escape of Shif'less Sol in the night, and they drew apart from the +Indians to discuss it. + +“I think,” said Wyatt, “that Hyde did not manage it himself, all alone. +How could he? He was bound both hand and foot; and I've learned, too, +Blackstaffe, that four of the best Iroquois rifles have been taken. That +means one apiece for Hyde and the three prisoners that are left.” + +The two exchanged looks of meaning and understanding. + +“It must have been the boy Ware who helped Hyde to get away,” said +Blackstaffe, “and their taking of the rifles means that he and Hyde +expect to rescue the other three in the same way. You think so, too?” + +“Of course,” replied Wyatt. “What makes the Indians, who are so +wonderfully alert and watchful most of the time, become so careless when +they have a great feast?” + +Blackstaffe shrugged his shoulders. + +“It is their way,” he replied. “You cannot change it. Ware must have +noticed what they were about, and he took advantage of it. But I don't +think any of the others will go that way.” + +“The boy Cotter is in here,” said Braxton Wyatt, tapping the side of a +small hut. “Let's go in and see him.” + + +“Good enough,” said Blackstaffe. “But we mustn't let him know that Hyde +has escaped.” + +Paul, also bound hand and foot, was lying on an old wolfskin. He, too, +was pale and thin-the strict confinement had told upon him heavily-but +Paul's spirit could never be daunted. He looked at the two renegades +with hatred and contempt. + +“Well, you're in a fine fix,” said Wyatt sneeringly. “We just came in to +tell you that we took Henry Ware last night.” + +Paul looked him straight and long in the eye, and he knew that the +renegade was lying. + +“I know better,” he said. + +“Then we will get him,” said Wyatt, abandoning the lie, “and all of you +will die at the stake.” + +“You, will not get him,” said Paul defiantly, “and as for the rest of +us dying at the stake, that's to be seen. I know this: Timmendiquas +considers us of value, to be traded or exchanged, and he's too smart +a man to destroy what he regards as his own property. Besides, we may +escape. I don't want to boast, Braxton Wyatt, but you know that we're +hard to hold.” + +Then Paul managed to turn over with his face to the wall, as if he were +through with them. They went out, and Braxton Wyatt said sulkily: + +“Nothing to be got out of him.” + +“No,” said Blackstaffe, “but we must urge that the strictest kind of +guard be kept over the others.” + +The Iroquois were to remain some time at the village, because all their +forces were not yet gathered for the great foray they had in mind. The +Onondaga runners were still carrying the wampum belts of purple shells, +sign of war, to distant villages of the tribes, and parties of warriors +were still coming in. A band of Cayugas arrived that night, and with +them they brought a half starved and sick, Lenni-Lenape, whom they had +picked up near the camp. The Lenni-Lenape, who looked as if he might +have been when in health a strong and agile warrior, said that news had +reached him through the Wyandots of the great war to be waged by the +Iroquois on the white settlements, and the spirits would not let him +rest unless he bore his part in it. He prayed therefore to be accepted +among them. + +Much food was given to the brave Lenni-Lenape, and he was sent to a +lodge to rest. To-morrow he would be well, and he would be welcomed to +the ranks of the Cayugas, a Younger nation. But when the morning came, +the lodge was empty. The sick Lenni-Lenape was gone, and with him the +boy, Paul, the youngest of the prisoners. Guards bad been posted all +around the camp, but evidently the two had slipped between. Brave +and advanced as were the Iroquois, superstition seized upon them. +Hah-gweli-da-et-gah was at work among them, coming in the form of the +famished Lenni-Lenape. He had steeped them in a deep sleep, and then +he had vanished with the prisoner in Se-oh (The Night). Perhaps lie had +taken away the boy, who was one of a hated race, for some sacrifice or +mystery of his own. The fears of the Iroquois rose. If the Spirit of +Evil was among them, greater harm could be expected. + +But the two renegades, Blackstaffe and Wyatt, raged. They did not +believe in the interference of either good spirits or bad spirits, and +just now their special hatred was a famished Lenni-Lenape warrior. + +“Why on earth didn't I think of it?” exclaimed Wyatt. “I'm sure now by +his size that it was the fellow Hyde. Of Course he slipped to the lodge, +let Cotter out, and they dodged about in the darkness until they escaped +in the forest. I'll complain to Timmendiquas.” + +He was as good as his word, speaking of the laxness of both Iroquois and +Wyandots. The great White Lightning regarded him with an icy stare. + +“You say that the boy, Cotter, escaped through carelessness?” he asked. + +“I do,” exclaimed Wyatt. + +“Then why did you not prevent it?” + +Wyatt trembled a little before the stern gaze of the chief. + +“Since when,” continued Timmendiquas, “have you, a deserter front your +own people, had the right to hold to account the head chief of the +Wyandots?” Braxton Wyatt, brave though he undoubtedly was, trembled yet +more. He knew that Timmendiquas did not like him, and that the Wyandot +chieftain could make his position among the Indians precarious. + +“I did not mean to say that it was the fault of anybody in particular,” + he exclaimed hastily, “but I've been hearing so much talk about the +Spirit of Evil having a hand in this that I couldn't keep front saying +something. Of course, it was Henry Ware and Hyde who did it!” + +“It may be,” said Timmendiquas icily, “but neither the Manitou of the +Wyandots, nor the Aieroski of the Iroquois has given to me the eyes to +see everything that happens in the dark.” + +Wyatt withdrew still in a rage, but afraid to say more. He and +Blackstaffe held many conferences through the day, and they longed for +the presence of Simon Girty, who was farther west. + +That night an Onondaga runner arrived from one of the farthest villages +of the Mohawks, far east toward Albany. He had been sent from a farther +village, and was not known personally to the warriors in the great camp, +but he bore a wampum belt of purple shells, the sign of war, and he +reported directly to Thayendanegea, to whom he brought stirring and +satisfactory words. After ample feasting, as became one who had come +so far, he lay upon soft deerskins in one of the bark huts and sought +sleep. + +But Braxton Wyatt, the renegade, could not sleep. His evil spirit warned +him to rise and go to the huts, where the two remaining prisoners were +kept. It was then about one o'clock in the morning, and as he passed he +saw the Onondaga runner at the door of one of the prison lodges. He was +about to cry out, but the Onondaga turned and struck him such a violent +blow with the butt of a pistol, snatched from under his deerskin tunic, +that he fell senseless. When a Mohawk sentinel found and revived him +an hour later, the door of the hut was open, and the oldest of the +prisoners, the one called Ross, was gone. + +Now, indeed, were the Iroquois certain that the Spirit of Evil was +among them. When great chiefs like Timmendiquas and Thayendanegea +were deceived, how could a common warrior hope to escape its wicked +influence! + +But Braxton Wyatt, with a sore and aching head, lay all day on a bed of +skins, and his friend, Moses Blackstaffe, could give him no comfort. + +The following night the camp was swept by a sudden and tremendous storm +of thunder and lightning, wind and rain. Many of the lodges were thrown +down, and when the storm finally whirled itself away, it was found that +the last of the prisoners, he of the long arms and long legs, had gone +on the edge of the blast. + +Truly the Evil Spirit had been hovering over the Iroquois village. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. CATHARINE MONTOUR + + +The five lay deep in the swamp, reunited once more, and full of content. +The great storm in which Long Jim, with the aid of his comrades, had +disappeared, was whirling off to the eastward. The lightning was flaring +its last on the distant horizon, but the rain still pattered in the +great woods. + +It was a small hut, but the five could squeeze in it. They were +dry, warm, and well armed, and they had no fear of the storm and the +wilderness. The four after their imprisonment and privations were +recovering their weight and color. Paul, who had suffered the most, +had, on the other hand, made the quickest recovery, and their present +situation, so fortunate in contrast with their threatened fate a few +days before, made a great appeal to his imagination. The door was +allowed to stand open six inches, and through the crevice he watched the +rain pattering on the dark earth. He felt an immense sense of security +and comfort. Paul was hopeful by nature and full of courage, but when he +lay bound and alone in a hut in the Iroquois camp it seemed to him that +no chance was left. The comrades had been kept separate, and he had +supposed the others to be dead. But here he was snatched from the very +pit of death, and all the others had been saved from a like fate. + +“If I'd known that you were alive and uncaptured, Henry,” he said, “I'd +never have given up hope. It was a wonderful thing you did to start the +chain that drew us all away.” + +“It's no more than Sol or Tom or any of you would have done,” said +Henry. + +“We might have tried it,” said Long Jim Hart, “but I ain't sure that +we'd have done it. Likely ez not, ef it had been left to me my scalp +would be dryin' somewhat in the breeze that fans a Mohawk village. Say, +Sol, how wuz it that you talked Onondaga when you played the part uv +that Onondaga runner. Didn't know you knowed that kind uv Injun lingo.” + +Shif'less Sol drew himself up proudly, and then passed a thoughtful hand +once or twice across his forehead. + +“Jim,” he said, “I've told you often that Paul an' me hez the instincts +uv the eddicated. Learnin' always takes a mighty strong hold on me. +Ef I'd had the chance, I might be a purfessor, or mebbe I'd be writin' +poetry. I ain't told you about it, but when I wuz a young boy, afore I +moved with the settlers, I wuz up in these parts an' I learned to talk +Iroquois a heap. I never thought it would be the use to me it hez been +now. Ain't it funny that sometimes when you put a thing away an' it gits +all covered with rust and mold, the time comes when that same forgot +little thing is the most vallyble article in the world to you.” + +“Weren't you scared, Sol,” persisted Paul, “to face a man like Brant, +an' pass yourself off as an Onondaga?” + +“No, I wuzn't,” replied the shiftless one thoughtfully, “I've been wuss +scared over little things. I guess that when your life depends on jest +a motion o' your hand or the turnin' o' a word, Natur' somehow comes to +your help an' holds you up. I didn't get good an' skeered till it wuz +all over, an' then I had one fit right after another.” + +“I've been skeered fur a week without stoppin',” said Tom Ross; “jest +beginnin' to git over it. I tell you, Henry, it wuz pow'ful lucky fur +us you found them steppin' stones, an' this solid little place in the +middle uv all that black mud.” + +“Makes me think uv the time we spent the winter on that island in +the lake,” said Long Jim. “That waz shorely a nice place an' pow'ful +comf'table we wuz thar. But we're a long way from it now. That island uv +ours must be seven or eight hundred miles from here, an' I reckon it's +nigh to fifteen hundred to New Orleans, whar we wuz once.” + +“Shet up,” said Tom Ross suddenly. “Time fur all uv you to go to sleep, +an' I'm goin' to watch.” + +“I'll watch,” said Henry. + +“I'm the oldest, an' I'm goin' to have my way this time,” said Tom. + +“Needn't quarrel with me about it,” said Shif'less Sol. “A lazy man like +me is always willin' to go to sleep. You kin hev my watch, Tom, every +night fur the next five years.” + +He ranged himself against the wall, and in three minutes was sound +asleep. Henry and Paul found room in the line, and they, too, soon +slept. Tom sat at the door, one of the captured rifles across his knees, +and watched the forest and the swamp. He saw the last flare of the +distant lightning, and he listened to the falling of the rain drops +until they vanished with the vanishing wind, leaving the forest still +and without noise. + +Tom was several years older than any of the others, and, although +powerful in action, he was singularly chary of speech. Henry was the +leader, but somehow Tom looked upon himself as a watcher over the other +four, a sort of elder brother. As the moon came out a little in the wake +of the retreating clouds, he regarded them affectionately. + +“One, two, three, four, five,” he murmured to himself. “We're all here, +an' Henry come fur us. That is shorely the greatest boy the world hez +ever seed. Them fellers Alexander an' Hannibal that Paul talks about +couldn't hev been knee high to Henry. Besides, ef them old Greeks an' +Romans hed hed to fight Wyandots an' Shawnees an' Iroquois ez we've +done, whar'd they hev been?” + +Tom Ross uttered a contemptuous little sniff, and on the edge of that +sniff Alexander and Hannibal were wafted into oblivion. Then he went +outside and walked about the islet, appreciating for the tenth time what +a wonderful little refuge it was. He was about to return to the hut when +he saw a dozen dark blots along the high bough of a tree. He knew them. +They were welcome blots. They were wild turkeys that had found what had +seemed to be a secure roosting place in the swamp. + +Tom knew that the meat of the little bear was nearly exhausted, and here +was more food come to their hand. “We're five pow'ful feeders, an' we'll +need you,” he murmured, looking up at the turkeys, “but you kin rest +thar till nearly mornin'.” + +He knew that the turkeys would not stir, and he went back to the hut to +resume his watch. Just before the first dawn he awoke Henry. + +“Henry,” he said, “a lot uv foolish wild turkeys hev gone to rest on the +limb of a tree not twenty yards from this grand manshun uv ourn. 'Pears +to me that wild turkeys wuz made fur hungry fellers like us to eat. Kin +we risk a shot or two at 'em, or is it too dangerous?” + +“I think we can risk the shots,” said Henry, rising and taking his +rifle. “We're bound to risk something, and it's not likely that Indians +are anywhere near.” + +They slipped from the cabin, leaving the other three still sound asleep, +and stepped noiselessly among the trees. The first pale gray bar that +heralded the dawn was just showing in the cast. + +“Thar they are,” said Tom Ross, pointing at the dozen dark blots on the +high bough. + +“We'll take good aim, and when I say 'fire!' we'll both pull trigger,” + said Henry. + +He picked out a huge bird near the end of the line, but he noticed when +he drew the bead that a second turkey just behind the first was directly +in his line of fire. The fact aroused his ambition to kill both with +one bullet. It was not a mere desire to slaughter or to display +marksmanship, but they needed the extra turkey for food. + +“Are you ready, Tom?” he asked. “Then fire.” + +They pulled triggers, there were two sharp reports terribly loud to both +under the circumstances, and three of the biggest and fattest of the +turkeys fell heavily to the ground, while the rest flapped their wings, +and with frightened gobbles flew away. + +Henry was about to rush forward, but Silent Tom held him back. + +“Don't show yourself, Henry! Don't show yourself!” he cried in tense +tones. + +“Why, what's the matter?” asked the boy in surprise. + +“Don't you see that three turkeys fell, and we are only two to shoot? +An Injun is layin' 'roun' here some whar, an' he drawed a bead on one uv +them turkeys at the same time we did.” + +Henry laughed and put away Tom's detaining hand. + +“There's no Indian about,” he said. “I killed two turkeys with one shot, +and I'm mighty proud of it, too. I saw that they were directly in the +line of the bullet, and it went through both.” + +Silent Tom heaved a mighty sigh of relief, drawn up from great depths. + +“I'm tre-men-jeous-ly glad uv that, Henry,” he said. “Now when I saw +that third turkey come tumblin' down I wuz shore that one Injun or mebbe +more had got on this snug little place uv ourn in the swamp, an' that +we'd hev to go to fightin' ag'in. Thar come times, Henry, when my mind +just natchally rises up an' rebels ag'in fightin', 'specially when I +want to eat or sleep. Ain't thar anythin' else but fight, fight, fight, +'though I 'low a feller hez got to expect a lot uv it out here in the +woods?” + +They picked up the three turkeys, two gobblers and a hen, and found +them large and fat as butter. More than once the wild turkey had come to +their relief, and, in fact, this bird played a great part in the life +of the frontier, wherever that frontier might be, as it shifted steadily +westward. As they walked back toward the hut they faced three figures, +all three with leveled rifles. + +“All right, boys,” sang out Henry. “It's nobody but Tom and myself, +bringing in our breakfast.” + +The three dropped their rifles. + +“That's good,” said Shif'less Sol. “When them shots roused us out o' +our beauty sleep we thought the whole Iroquois nation, horse, foot, +artillery an' baggage wagons, wuz comin' down upon us. So we reckoned +we'd better go out an' lick 'em afore it wuz too late. + +“But it's you, an' you've got turkeys, nothin' but turkeys. Sho' I +reckoned from the peart way Long Jim spoke up that you wuz loaded down +with hummin' birds' tongues, ortylans, an' all them other Roman and +Rooshian delicacies Paul talks about in a way to make your mouth water. +But turkeys! jest turkeys! Nothin' but turkeys!” + +“You jest wait till you see me cookin' 'em, Sol Hyde,” said Long Jim. +“Then your mouth'll water, an' it'll take Henry and Tom both to hold you +back.” + +But Shif'less Sol's mouth was watering already, and his eyes were glued +on the turkeys. + +“I'm a pow'ful lazy man, ez you know, Saplin',” he said, “but I'm goin' +to help you pick them turkeys an' get 'em ready for the coals. The +quicker they are cooked the better it'll suit me.” + +While they were cooking the turkeys, Henry, a little anxious lest the +sound of the shots had been heard, crossed on the stepping stones and +scouted a bit in the woods. But there was no sign of Indian presence, +and, relieved, he returned to the islet just as breakfast was ready. + +Long Jim had exerted all his surpassing skill, and it was a contented +five that worked on one of the turkeys--the other two being saved for +further needs. + +“What's goin' to be the next thing in the line of our duty, Henry?” + asked Long Jim as they ate. + +“We'll have plenty to do, from all that Sol tells us,” replied the boy. +“It seems that they felt so sure of you, while you were prisoners, that +they often talked about their plans where you could hear them. Sol has +told me of two or three talks between Timmendiquas and Thayendanegea, +and from the last one he gathered that they're intending a raid with a +big army against a place called Wyoming, in the valley of a river named +the Susquehanna. It's a big settlement, scattered all along the river, +and they expect to take a lot of scalps. They're going to be helped by +British from Canada and Tories. Boys, we're a long way from home, but +shall we go and tell them in Wyoming what's coming?” + +“Of course,” said the four together. + +“Our bein' a long way from home don't make any difference,” said +Shif'less Sol. “We're generally a long way from home, an' you know we +sent word back from Pittsburgh to Wareville that we wuz stayin' a while +here in the east on mighty important business.” + +“Then we go to the Wyoming Valley as straight and as fast as we can,” + said Henry. “That's settled. What else did you bear about their plans, +Sol?” + +“They're to break up the village here soon and then they'll march to +a place called Tioga. The white men an' I hear that's to be a lot uv +'em-will join 'em thar or sooner. They've sent chiefs all the way to our +Congress at Philydelphy, pretendin' peace, an' then, when they git our +people to thinkin' peace, they'll jump on our settlements, the whole +ragin' army uv 'em, with tomahawk an' knife. A white man named John +Butler is to command 'em.” + +Paul shuddered. + +“I've heard of him,” he said. “They called him 'Indian' Butler at +Pittsburgh. He helped lead the Indians in that terrible battle of the +Oriskany last year. And they say he's got a son, Walter Butler, who is +as bad as he is, and there are other white leaders of the Indians, the +Johnsons and Claus.” + +“'Pears ez ef we would be needed,” said Tom Ross. + +“I don't think we ought to hurry,” said Henry. “The more we know about +the Indian plans the better it will be for the Wyoming people. We've a +safe and comfortable hiding place here, and we can stay and watch the +Indian movements.” + +“Suits me,” drawled Shif'less Sol. “My legs an' arms are still stiff +from them deerskin thongs an' ez Long Jim is here now to wait on me I +guess I'll take a rest from travelin.” + +“You'll do all your own waitin' on yourself,” rejoined Long Jim; “an' I'm +afraid you won't be waited on so Pow'ful well, either, but a good deal +better than you deserve.” + +They lay on the islet several days, meanwhile keeping a close watch +on the Indian camp. They really had little to fear except from hunting +parties, as the region was far from any settled portion of the country, +and the Indians were not likely to suspect their continued presence. +But the hunters were numerous, and all the squaws in the camp were busy +jerking meat. It was obvious that the Indians were preparing for a great +campaign, but that they would take their own time. Most of the scouting +was done by Henry and Sol, and several times they lay in the thick +brushwood and watched, by the light of the fires, what was passing in +the Indian camp. + +On the fifth night after the rescue of Long Jim, Henry and Shif'less Sol +lay in the covert. It was nearly midnight, but the fires still burned +in the Indian camp, warriors were polishing their weapons, and the women +were cutting up or jerking meat. While they were watching they heard +from a point to the north the sound of a voice rising and failing in a +kind of chant. + +“Another war party comin',” whispered Shif'less Sol, “an' singin' about +the victories that they're goin' to win.” + +“But did you notice that voice?” Henry whispered back. “It's not a +man's, it's a woman's.” + +“Now that you speak of it, you're right,” said Shif'less Sol. “It's +funny to hear an Injun woman chantin' about battles as she comes into +camp. That's the business o' warriors.” + +“Then this is no ordinary woman,” said Henry. + +“They'll pass along that trail there within twenty yards of us, Sol, and +we want to see her.” + +“So we do,” said Sol, “but I ain't breathin' while they pass.” + +They flattened themselves against the earth until the keenest eye could +not see them in the darkness. All the time the singing was growing +louder, and both remained, quite sure that it was the voice of a woman. +The trail was but a short distance away, and the moon was bright. The +fierce Indian chant swelled, and presently the most singular figure that +either had ever seen came into view. + +The figure was that of an Indian woman, but lighter in color than most +of her kind. She was middle-aged, tall, heavily built, and arrayed in a +strange mixture of civilized and barbaric finery, deerskin leggins and +moccasins gorgeously ornamented with heads, a red dress of European +cloth with a red shawl over it, and her head bare except for bright +feathers, thrust in her long black hair, which hung loosely down her +back. She held in one hand a large sharp tomahawk, which she swung +fiercely in time to her song. Her face had the rapt, terrible expression +of one who had taken some fiery and powerful drug, and she looked +neither to right nor to left as she strode on, chanting a song of blood, +and swinging the keen blade. + +Henry and Shif'less Sol shuddered. They had looked upon terrible human +figures, but nothing so frightful as this, a woman with the strength +of a man and twice his rage and cruelty. There was something weird and +awful in the look of that set, savage face, and the tone of that Indian +chant. Brave as they were, Henry and the shiftless one felt fear, as +perhaps they had never felt it before in their lives. Well they might! +They were destined to behold this woman again, under conditions the +most awful of which the human mind can conceive, and to witness savagery +almost unbelievable in either man or woman. The two did not yet know +it, but they were looking upon Catharine Montour, daughter of a French +Governor General of Canada and an Indian woman, a chieftainess of the +Iroquois, and of a memory infamous forever on the border, where she was +known as “Queen Esther.” + +Shif'less Sol shuddered again, and whispered to Henry: + +“I didn't think such women ever lived, even among the Indians.” + +A dozen warriors followed Queen Esther, stepping in single file, and +their manner showed that they acknowledged her their leader in every +sense. She was truly an extraordinary woman. Not even the great +Thayendanegea himself wielded a stronger influence among the Iroquois. +In her youth she had been treated as a white woman, educated and dressed +as a white woman, and she had played a part in colonial society at +Albany, New York, and Philadelphia. But of her own accord she had turned +toward the savage half of herself, had become wholly a savage, had +married a savage chief, bad been the mother of savage children, and here +she was, at midnight, striding into an Iroquois camp in the wilderness, +her head aflame with visions of blood, death, and scalps. + +The procession passed with the terrifying female figure still leading, +still singing her chant, and the curiosity of Henry and Shif'less Sol +was so intense that, taking all risks, they slipped along in the rear to +see her entry. + +Queen Esther strode into the lighted area of the camp, ceased her chant, +and looked around, as if a queen had truly come and was waiting to be +welcomed by her subjects. Thayendanegea, who evidently expected her, +stepped forward and gave her the Indian salute. It may be that he +received her with mild enthusiasm. Timmendiquas, a Wyandot and a guest, +though an ally, would not dispute with him his place as real head of the +Six Nations, but this terrible woman was his match, and could inflame +the Iroquois to almost anything that she wished. + +After the arrival of Queen Esther the lights in the Iroquois village +died down. It was evident to both Henry and the shiftless one that they +had been kept burning solely in the expectation of the coming of this +formidable woman and her escort. It was obvious that nothing more was to +be seen that night, and they withdrew swiftly through the forest toward +their islet. They stopped once in an oak opening, and Shif'less Sol +shivered slightly. + +“Henry,” he said, “I feel all through me that somethin' terrible is +comin'. That woman back thar has clean give me the shivers. I'm more +afraid of her than I am of Timmendiquas or Thayendanegea. Do you think +she is a witch?” + +“There are no such things as witches, but she was uncanny. I'm afraid, +Sol, that your feeling about something terrible going to happen is +right.” + +It was about two o'clock in the morning when they reached the islet. Tom +Ross was awake, but the other two slumbered peacefully on. They told Tom +what they had seen, and he told them the identity of the terrible woman. + +“I heard about her at Pittsburgh, an' I've heard tell, too, about her +afore I went to Kentucky to live. She's got a tre-men-jeous power over +the Iroquois. They think she ken throw spells, an' all that sort of +thing-an' mebbe she kin.” + +Two nights later it was Henry and Tom who lay in the thickets, and then +they saw other formidable arrivals in the Indian camp. Now they were +white men, an entire company in green uniforms, Sir John Johnson's Royal +Greens, as Henry afterward learned; and with them was the infamous John +Butler, or “Indian” Butler, as he was generally known on the New York +and Pennsylvania frontier, middle-aged, short and fat, and insignificant +of appearance, but energetic, savage and cruel in nature. He was a +descendant of the Duke of Ormond, and had commanded the Indians at the +terrible battle of the Oriskany, preceding Burgoyne's capture the year +before. + +Henry and Tom were distant spectators at an extraordinary council around +one of the fires. In this group were Timmendiquas, Thayendanegea, Queen +Esther, high chiefs of the distant nations, and the white men, John +Butler, Moses Blackstaffe, and the boy, Braxton Wyatt. It seemed to +Henry that Timmendiquas, King of the Wyandots, was superior to all the +other chiefs present, even to Thayendanegea. His expression was nobler +than that of the great Mohawk, and it had less of the Indian cruelty. + +Henry and Tom could not hear 'anything that was said, but they felt sure +the Iroquois were about to break up their village and march on the great +campaign they had planned. The two and their comrades could render no +greater service than to watch their march, and then warn those upon whom +the blow was to fall. + +The five left their hut on the islet early the next morning, well +equipped with provisions, and that day they saw the Iroquois dismantle +their village, all except the Long House and two or three other of the +more solid structures, and begin the march. Henry and his comrades went +parallel with them, watching their movements as closely as possible. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. A CHANGE OF TENANTS + + +The five were engaged upon one of their most dangerous tasks, to keep +with the Indian army, and yet to keep out of its hands, to observe what +was going on, and to divine what was intended from what they observed. +Fortunately it, was early summer, and the weather being very beautiful +they could sleep without shelter. Hence they found it convenient to +sleep sometimes by daylight, posting a watch always, and to spy upon the +Indian camp at night. They saw other reinforcements come for the Indian +army, particularly a strong division of Senecas, under two great war +chiefs of theirs, Sangerachte and Hiokatoo, and also a body of Tories. + +Then they saw them go into their last great camp at Tioga, preparatory +to their swift descent upon the Wyoming Valley. About four hundred +white men, English Canadians and Tories, were present, and eight hundred +picked warriors of the Six Nations under Thayendanegea, besides the +little band of Wyandots led by the resolute Timmendiquas. “Indian” + Butler was in general command of the whole, and Queen Esther was the +high priestess of the Indians, continually making fiery speeches and +chanting songs that made the warriors see red. Upon the rear of this +extraordinary army hung a band of fierce old squaws, from whom every +remnant of mercy and Gentleness had departed. + +From a high rock overlooking a valley the five saw “Indian” Butler's +force start for its final march upon Wyoming. It was composed of many +diverse elements, and perhaps none more bloodthirsty ever trod the soil +of America. In some preliminary skirmish a son of Queen Esther had been +slain, and now her fury knew no limits. She took her place at the +very head of the army, whirling her great tomahawk about her head, and +neither “Indian” Butler nor Thayendanegea dared to interfere with her in +anything great or small. + +Henry and his comrades, as they left their rock and hastened toward the +valley of Wyoming, felt that now they were coming into contact with the +great war itself. They had looked upon a uniformed enemy for the first +time, and they might soon see the colonial buff and blue of the eastern +army. Their hearts thrilled high at new scenes and new dangers. + +They had gathered at Pittsburgh, and, through the captivity of the four +in the Iroquois camp, they had some general idea of the Wyoming Valley +and the direction in which it lay, and, taking one last look at the +savage army, they sped toward it. The time was the close, of June, and +the foliage was still dark green. It was a land of low mountain, hill, +rich valley, and clear stream, and it was beautiful to every one of the +five. Much of their course lay along the Susquehanna, and soon they +saw signs of a more extended cultivation than any that was yet to be +witnessed in Kentucky. From the brow of a little hill they beheld a +field of green, and in another field a man plowing. + +“That's wheat,” said Tom Ross. + +“But we can't leave the man to plow,” said Henry, “or he'll never +harvest that wheat. We'll warn him.” + +The man uttered a cry of alarm as five wild figures burst into his +field. He stopped abruptly, and snatched up a rifle that lay across +the plow handles. Neither Henry nor his companions realized that their +forest garb and long life in the wilderness made them look more like +Indians than white men. But Henry threw up a hand as a sign of peace. + +“We're white like yourselves,” he cried, “and we've come to warn you! +The Iroquois and the Tories are marching into the valley!” + +The man's face blanched, and he cast a hasty look toward a little wood, +where stood a cabin from which smoke was rising. He could not doubt on a +near view that these were white like himself, and the words rang true. + +“My house is strong,” he said, “and I can beat them off. Maybe you will +help me.” + +“We'd help you willingly enough,” said Henry, “if this were any ordinary +raiding band, but 'Indian' Butler, Brant, and Queen Esther are coming at +the head of twelve or fifteen hundred men. How could we hold a house, no +matter how thick its walls, against such an army as that? Don't hesitate +a moment! Get up what you can and gallop.” + +The man, a Connecticut settler-Jennings was his name-left his plow in +the furrow, galloped on his horse to his house, mounted his wife and +children on other horses, and, taking only food and clothing, fled to +Stroudsburg, where there was a strong fort. At a later day he gave Henry +heartfelt thanks for his warning, as six hours afterward the vanguard +of the horde burned his home and raged because its owner and his family +were gone with their scalps on their own heads. + +The five were now well into the Wyoming Valley, where the Lenni-Lenape, +until they were pushed westward by other tribes, had had their village +Wy-wa-mieh, which means in their language Wyoming. It was a beautiful +valley running twenty miles or more along the Susquehanna, and about +three miles broad. On either side rose mountain walls a thousand feet in +height, and further away were peaks with mists and vapors around their +crests. The valley itself blazed in the summer sunshine, and the river +sparkled, now in gold, now in silver, as the light changed and fell. + +More cultivated fields, more houses, generally of stout logs, appeared, +and to all that they saw the five bore the fiery beacon. Simon Jennings +was not the only man who lived to thank them for the warning. Others +were incredulous, and soon paid the terrible price of unbelief. + +The five hastened on, and as they went they looked about them with +wondering eyes-there were so many houses, so many cultivated fields, and +so many signs of a numerous population. They had emerged almost for the +first time from the wilderness, excepting their memorable visit to New +Orleans, although this was a very different region. Long Jim spoke of +it. + +“I think I like it better here than at New Or-leeyuns,” he said. “We +found some nice Frenchmen an' Spaniards down thar, but the ground feels +firmer under my feet here.” + +“The ground feels firmer,” said Paul, who had some of the prescience of +the seer, “but the skies are no brighter. They look red to me sometimes, +Jim.” + +Tom Ross glanced at Paul and shook his head ominously. A woodsman, he +had his superstitions, and Paul's words weighed upon his mind. He began +to fear a great disaster, and his experienced eye perceived at once the +defenseless state of the valley. He remembered the council of the great +Indian force in the deep woods, and the terrible face of Queen Esther +was again before him. + +“These people ought to be in blockhouses, every one uv 'em,” he said. +“It ain't no time to be plowin' land.” + +Yet peace seemed to brood still over the valley. It was a fine river, +beautiful with changing colors. The soil on either side was as deep and +fertile as that of Kentucky, and the line of the mountains cut the sky +sharp and clear. Hills and slopes were dark green with foliage. + +“It must have been a gran' huntin' ground once,” said Shif'less Sol. + +The alarm that the five gave spread fast, and other hunters and scouts +came in, confirming it. Panic seized the settlers, and they began to +crowd toward Forty Fort on the west side of the river. Henry and his +comrades themselves arrived there toward the close of evening, just as +the sun had set, blood red, behind the mountains. Some report of them +had preceded their coming, and as soon as they had eaten they were +summoned to the presence of Colonel Zebulon Butler, who commanded the +military force in the valley. Singularly enough, he was a cousin of +“Indian” Butler, who led the invading army. + +The five, dressed in deerskin hunting shirts, leggins, and moccasins, +and everyone carrying a rifle, hatchet, and knife, entered a large low +room, dimly lighted by some wicks burning in tallow. A man of middle +years, with a keen New England face, sat at a little table, and several +others of varying ages stood near. + +The five knew instinctively that the man at the table was Colonel +Butler, and they bowed, but they did not show the faintest trace of +subservience. They had caught suspicious glances from some of the +officers who stood about the commander, and they stiffened at once. +Colonel Butler looked involuntarily at Henry-everybody always took him, +without the telling, for leader of the group. + +“We have had report of you,” he said in cool noncommittal tones, “and +you have been telling of great Indian councils that you have seen in the +woods. May I ask your name and where you belong?” + +“My name,” replied Henry with dignity, “is Henry Ware, and I come from +Kentucky. My friends here are Paul Cotter, Solomon Hyde, Tom Ross, and +Jim Hart. They, too, come from Kentucky.” + +Several of the men gave the five suspicious glances. Certainly they +were wild enough in appearance, and Kentucky was far away. It would +seem strange that new settlers in that far land should be here in +Pennsylvania. Henry saw clearly that his story was doubted. + +“Kentucky, you tell me?” said Colonel Butler. “Do you mean to say +you have come all that tremendous distance to warn us of an attack by +Indians and Tories?” + +Several of the others murmured approval, and Henry flushed a little, but +he saw that the commander was not unreasonable. It was a time when +men might well question the words of strangers. Remembering this, he +replied: + +“No, we did not come from Kentucky just to warn you. In fact, we +came from a point much farther than that. We came from New Orleans to +Pittsburgh with a fleet loaded with supplies for the Continental armies, +and commanded by Adam Colfax of New Hampshire.” + +The face of Colonel Butler brightened. + +“What!” he exclaimed, “you were on that expedition? It seems to me that +I recall hearing of great services rendered to it by some independent +scouts.” + +“When we reached Pittsburgh,” continued Henry, “it was our first +intention to go back to Kentucky, but we heard that a great war movement +was in progress to the eastward, and we thought that we would see what +was going on. Four of us have been captives among the Iroquois. We know +much of their plans, and we know, too, that Timmendiquas, the great +chief of the Wyandots, whom we fought along the Ohio, has joined them +with a hand of his best warriors. We have also seen Thayendanegea, every +one of us.” + +“You have seen Brant?” exclaimed Colonel Butler, calling the great +Mohawk by his white name. + +“Yes,” replied Henry. “We have seen him, and we have also seen the woman +they call Queen Esther. She is continually urging the Indians on.” + +Colonel Butler seemed convinced, and invited them to sit down. He also +introduced the officers who were with him, Colonel John Durkee, Colonel +Nathan Dennison, Lieutenant Colonel George Dorrance, Major John Garrett, +Captain Samuel Ransom, Captain Dethrie Hewitt, and some others. + +“Now, gentlemen, tell us all that you saw,” continued Colonel Butler +courteously. “You will pardon so many questions, but we must be careful. +You will see that yourselves. But I am a New England man myself, from +Connecticut, and I have met Adam Colfax. I recall now that we have heard +of you, also, and we are grateful for your coming. Will you and your +comrades tell us all that you have seen and heard?” + +The five felt a decided change in the atmosphere. They were no longer +possible Tories or renegades, bringing an alarm at one point when it +should be dreaded at another. The men drew closely around them, and +listened as the tallow wicks sputtered in the dim room. Henry spoke +first, and the others in their turn. Every one of them spoke tersely but +vividly in the language of the forest. They felt deeply what they had +seen, and they drew the same picture for their listeners. Gradually the +faces of the Wyoming men became shadowed. This was a formidable tale +that they were hearing, and they could not doubt its truth. + +“It is worse than I thought it could be,” said Colonel Butler at last. +“How many men do you say they have, Mr. Ware?” + +“Close to fifteen hundred.” + +“All trained warriors and soldiers. And at the best we cannot raise more +than three hundreds including old men and boys, and our men, too, are +farmers.” + +“But we can beat them. Only give us a chance, Colonel!” exclaimed +Captain Ransom. + +“I'm afraid the chance will come too soon,” said Colonel Butler, and +then turning to the five: “Help us all you can. We need scouts and +riflemen. Come to the fort for any food and ammunition you may need.” + +The five gave their most earnest assurances that they would stay, and +do all in their power. In fact, they had come for that very purpose. +Satisfied now that Colonel Butler and his officers had implicit faith in +them they went forth to find that, despite the night and the darkness, +fugitives were already crossing the river to seek refuge in Forty Fort, +bringing with them tales of death and devastation, some of which were +exaggerated, but too many true in all their hideous details. Men had +been shot and scalped in the fields, houses were burning, women and +children were captives for a fate that no one could foretell. Red ruin +was already stalking down the valley. + +The farmers were bringing their wives and children in canoes and dugouts +across the river. Here and there a torch light flickered on the surface +of the stream, showing the pale faces of the women and children, too +frightened to cry. They had fled in haste, bringing with them only the +clothes they wore and maybe a blanket or two. The borderers knew too +well what Indian war was, with all its accompaniments of fire and the +stake. + +Henry and his comrades helped nearly all that night. They secured a +large boat and crossed the river again and again, guarding the fugitives +with their rifles, and bringing comfort to many a timid heart. Indian +bands had penetrated far into the Wyoming Valley, but they felt sure +that none were yet in the neighborhood of Forty Fort. + +It was about three o'clock in the morning when the last of the fugitives +who had yet come was inside Forty Fort, and the labors of the five, had +they so chosen, were over for the time. But their nerves were tuned to +so high a pitch, and they felt so powerfully the presence of danger, +that they could not rest, nor did they have any desire for sleep. + + +The boat in which they sat was a good one, with two pairs of oars. It +had been detailed for their service, and they decided to pull up the +river. They thought it possible that they might see the advance of the +enemy and bring news worth the telling. Long Jim and Tom Ross took the +oars, and their powerful arms sent the boat swiftly along in the shadow +of the western bank. Henry and Paul looked back and saw dim lights at +the fort and a few on either shore. The valley, the high mountain wall, +and everything else were merged in obscurity. + +Both the youths were oppressed heavily by the sense of danger, not for +themselves, but for others. In that Kentucky of theirs, yet so new, +few people lived beyond the palisades, but here were rich and scattered +settlements; and men, even in the face of great peril, are always loth +to abandon the homes that they have built with so much toil. + +Tom Ross and Long Jim continued to pull steadily with the long strokes +that did not tire them, and the lights of the fort and houses sank out +of sight. Before them lay the somber surface of the rippling river, the +shadowy hills, and silence. The world seemed given over to the night +save for themselves, but they knew too well to trust to such apparent +desertion. At such hours the Indian scouts come, and Henry did not doubt +that they were already near, gathering news of their victims for the +Indian and Tory horde. Therefore, it was the part of his comrades and +himself to use the utmost caution as they passed up the river. + +They bugged the western shore, where they were shadowed by banks and +bushes, and now they went slowly, Long Jim and Tom Ross drawing their +oars so carefully through the water that there was never a plash to +tell of their passing. Henry was in the prow of the boat, bent forward +a little, eyes searching the surface of the river, and ears intent upon +any sound that might pass on the bank. Suddenly he gave a little signal +to the rowers and they let their oars rest. + +“Bring the boat in closer to the bank,” he whispered. “Push it gently +among those bushes where we cannot be seen from above.” + +Tom and Jim obeyed. The boat slid softly among tall bushes that shadowed +the water, and was hidden completely. Then Henry stepped out, crept +cautiously nearly up the bank, which was here very low, and lay pressed +closely against the earth, but supported by the exposed root of a tree. +He had heard voices, those of Indians, he believed, and he wished to +see. Peering through a fringe of bushes that lined the bank he saw seven +warriors and one white face sitting under the boughs of a great oak. +The face was that of Braxton Wyatt, who was now in his element, with a +better prospect of success than any that he had ever known before. Henry +shuddered, and for a moment he regretted that he had spared Wyatt's life +when he might have taken it. + + +But Henry was lying against the bank to hear what these men might be +saying, not to slay. Two of the warriors, as he saw by their paint, were +Wyandots, and he understood the Wyandot tongue. Moreover, his slight +knowledge of Iroquois came into service, and gradually he gathered the +drift of their talk. Two miles nearer Forty Fort was a farmhouse one of +the Wyandots had seen it-not yet abandoned by its owner, who believed +that his proximity to Forty Fort assured his safety. He lived there with +his wife and five children, and Wyatt and the Indians planned to raid +the place before daylight and kill them all. Henry had heard enough. He +slid back from the bank to the water and crept into the boat. + +“Pull back down the river as gently as you can,” he whispered, “and then +I'll tell you.” + +The skilled oarsmen carried the boat without a splash several hundred +yards down the stream, and then Henry told the others of the fiendish +plan that he had heard. + +“I know that man,” said Shif'less Sol. “His name is Standish. I was +there nine or ten hours ago, an' I told him it wuz time to take his +family an' run. But he knowed more'n I did. Said he'd stay, he wuzn't +afraid, an' now he's got to pay the price.” + +“No, he mustn't do that,” said Henry. “It's too much to pay for just +being foolish, when everybody is foolish sometimes. Boys, we can yet +save that man an' his wife and children. Aren't you willing to do it?” + +“Why, course,” said Long Jim. “Like ez not Standish will shoot at us +when we knock on his door, but let's try it.” + +The others nodded assent. + +“How far back from the river is the Standish house, Sol?” asked Henry. + +“'Bout three hundred yards, I reckon, and' it ain't more'n a mile down.” + +“Then if we pull with all our might, we won't be too late. Tom, you and +Jim give Sol and me the oars now.” + +Henry and the shiftless one were fresh, and they sent the boat shooting +down stream, until they stopped at a point indicated by Sol. They leaped +ashore, drew the boat down the bank, and hastened toward a log house +that they saw standing in a clump of trees. The enemy had not yet come, +but as they swiftly approached the house a dog ran barking at them. The +shiftless one swung his rifle butt, and the dog fell unconscious. + +“I hated to do it, but I had to,” he murmured. The next moment Henry was +knocking at the door. + +“Up! Up!” he cried, “the Indians are at hand, and you must run for your +lives!” + +How many a time has that terrible cry been heard on the American border! + +The sound of a man's voice, startled and angry, came to their ears, and +then they heard him at the door. + +“Who are you?” he cried. “Why are you beating on my door at such a +time?” + +“We are friends, Mr. Standish,” cried Henry, “and if you would save your +wife and children you must go at once! Open the door! Open, I say!” + +The man inside was in a terrible quandary. It was thus that renegades +or Indians, speaking the white man's tongue, sometimes bade a door to be +opened, in order that they might find an easy path to slaughter. But the +voice outside was powerfully insistent, it had the note of truth; his +wife and children, roused, too, were crying out, in alarm. Henry knocked +again on the door and shouted to him in a voice, always increasing in +earnestness, to open and flee. Standish could resist no longer. He took +down the bar and flung open the door, springing back, startled at the +five figures that stood before him. In the dusk he did not remember +Shif'less Sol. + +“Mr. Standish,” Henry said, speaking rapidly, “we are, as you can see, +white. You will be attacked here by Indians and renegades within half +an hour. We know that, because we heard them talking from the bushes. +We have a boat in the river; you can reach it in five minutes. Take your +wife and children, and pull for Forty Fort.” + +Standish was bewildered. + +“How do I know that you are not enemies, renegades, yourselves?” he +asked. + +“If we had been that you'd be a dead man already,” said Shif'less Sol. + +It was a grim reply, but it was unanswerable, and Standish recognized +the fact. His wife had felt the truth in the tones of the strangers, +and was begging him to go. Their children were crying at visions of the +tomahawk and scalping knife now so near. + +“We'll go,” said Standish. “At any rate, it can't do any harm. We'll get +a few things together.” + +“Do not wait for anything!” exclaimed Henry. “You haven't a minute to +spare! Here are more blankets! Take them and run for the boat! Sol and +Jim, see them on board, and then come back!” + +Carried away by such fire and earnestness, Standish and his family ran +for the boat. Jim and the shiftless one almost threw them on board, +thrust a pair of oars into the bands of Standish, another into the hands +of his wife, and then told them to pull with all their might for the +fort. + +“And you,” cried Standish, “what becomes of you?” + +Then a singular expression passed over his face-he had guessed Henry's +plan. + +“Don't you trouble about us,” said the shiftless one. “We will come +later. Now pull! pull!” + +Standish and his wife swung on the oars, and in two minutes the boat and +its occupants were lost in the darkness. Tom Ross and Sol did not pause +to watch them, but ran swiftly back to the house. Henry was at the door. + +“Come in,” he said briefly, and they entered. Then he closed the door +and dropped the bar into place. Shif'less Sol and Paul were already +inside, one sitting on the chair and the other on the edge of the bed. +Some coals, almost hidden under ashes, smoldered and cast a faint light +in the room, the only one that the house had, although it was divided +into two parts by a rough homespun curtain. Henry opened one of the +window shutters a little and looked out. The dawn had not yet come, but +it was not a dark night, and he looked over across the little clearing +to the trees beyond. On that side was a tiny garden, and near the wall +of the house some roses were blooming. He could see the glow of pink and +red. But no enemy bad yet approached. Searching the clearing carefully +with those eyes of his, almost preternaturally keen, he was confident +that the Indians were still in the woods. He felt an intense thrill of +satisfaction at the success of his plan so far. + +He was not cruel, he never rejoiced in bloodshed, but the borderer alone +knew what the border suffered, and only those who never saw or felt the +torture could turn the other cheek to be smitten. The Standish house had +made a sudden and ominous change of tenants. + +“It will soon be day,” said Henry, “and farmers are early risers. Kindle +up that fire a little, will you, Sol? I want some smoke to come out of +the chimney.” + +The shiftless one raked away the ashes, and put on two or three pieces +of wood that lay on the hearth. Little flames and smoke arose. Henry +looked curiously about the house. It was the usual cabin of the +frontier, although somewhat larger. The bed on which Shif'less Sol sat +was evidently that of the father and mother, while two large ones behind +the curtain were used by the children. On the shelf stood a pail half +full of drinking water, and by the side of it a tin cup. Dried herbs +hung over the fireplace, and two or three chests stood in the corners. +The clothing of the children was scattered about. Unprepared food for +breakfast stood on a table. Everything told of a hasty flight and its +terrible need. Henry was already resolved, but his heart hardened within +him as he saw. + +He took the hatchet from his belt and cut one of the hooks for the +door bar nearly in two. The others said not a word. They had no need +to speak. They understood everything that he did. He opened the window +again and looked out. Nothing yet appeared. “The dawn will come in three +quarters of an hour,” he said, “and we shall not have to wait long for +what we want to do.” + +He sat down facing the door. All the others were sitting, and they, too, +faced the door. Everyone had his rifle across his knees, with one hand +upon the hammer. The wood on the hearth sputtered as the fire spread, +and the flames grew. Beyond a doubt a thin spire of smoke was rising +from the chimney, and a watching eye would see this sign of a peaceful +and unsuspecting mind. + +“I hope Braxton Wyatt will be the first to knock at our door,” said +Shif'less Sol. + +“I wouldn't be sorry,” said Henry. + +Paul was sitting in a chair near the fire, and he said nothing. He hoped +the waiting would be very short. The light was sufficient for him to see +the faces of his comrades, and he noticed that they were all very tense. +This was no common watch that they kept. Shif'less Sol remained on the +bed, Henry sat on another of the chairs, Tom Ross was on one of the +chests with his back to the wall. Long Jim was near the curtain. Close +by Paul was a home-made cradle. He put down his hand and touched it. He +was glad that it was empty now, but the sight of it steeled his heart +anew for the task that lay before them. + +Ten silent minutes passed, and Henry went to the window again. He did +not open it, but there was a crack through which he could see. The +others said nothing, but watched his face. When he turned away they knew +that the moment was at hand. + +“They've just come from the woods,” he said, “and in a minute they'll be +at the door. Now, boys, take one last look at your rifles.” + +A minute later there was a sudden sharp knock at the door, but no answer +came from within. The knock was repeated, sharper and louder, and Henry, +altering his voice as much as possible, exclaimed like one suddenly +awakened from sleep: + +“Who is it? What do you want?” + +Back came a voice which Henry knew to be that of Braxton Wyatt: + +“We've come from farther up the valley. We're scouts, we've been up to +the Indian country. We're half starved. Open and give us food!” + +“I don't believe you,” replied Henry. “Honest people don't come to my +door at this time in the morning.” + +Then ensued a few moments of silence, although Paul, with his vivid +fancy, thought he heard whispering on the other side of the door. + +“Open!” cried Wyatt, “or we'll break your door down!” Henry said +nothing, nor did any of the others. They did not stir. The fire crackled +a little, but there was no other sound in the Standish house. Presently +they heard a slight noise outside, that of light feet. + +“They are going for a log with which to break the door in,” whispered +Henry. “They won't have to look far. The wood pile isn't fifty feet +away.” + +“An' then,” said Shif'less Sol, “they won't have much left to do but to +take the scalps of women an' little children.” + +Every figure in the Standish house stiffened at the shiftless one's +significant words, and the light in the eyes grew sterner. Henry went +to the door, put his ear to the line where it joined the wall, and +listened. + +“They've got their log,” he said, “and in half a minute they'll rush it +against the door.” + +He came back to his old position. Paul's heart began to thump, and his +thumb fitted itself over the trigger of his cocked rifle. Then they +heard rapid feet, a smash, a crash, and the door flew open. A half dozen +Iroquois and a log that they held between them were hurled into the +middle of the room. The door had given away so easily and unexpectedly +that the warriors could not check themselves, and two or three fell +with the log. But they sprang like cats to their feet, and with their +comrades uttered a cry that filled the whole cabin with its terrible +sound and import. + +The Iroquois, keen of eyes and quick of mind, saw the trap at once. +The five grim figures, rifle in hand and finger on trigger, all waiting +silent and motionless were far different from what they expected. Here +could be no scalps, with the long, silky hair of women and children. + +There was a moment's pause, and then the Indians rushed at their foes. +Five fingers pulled triggers, flame leaped from five muzzles, and in an +instant the cabin was filled with smoke and war shouts, but the warriors +never had a chance. They could only strike blindly with their tomahawks, +and in a half minute three of them, two wounded, rushed through the door +and fled to the woods. They had been preceded already by Braxton Wyatt, +who had hung back craftily while the Iroquois broke down the door. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. WYOMING + + +The five made no attempt to pursue. In fact, they did not leave the +cabin, but stood there a while, looking down at the fallen, hideous with +war paint, but now at the end of their last trail. Their tomahawks lay +upon the floor, and glittered when the light from the fire fell upon +them. Smoke, heavy with the odor of burned gunpowder, drifted about the +room. + +Henry threw open the two shuttered windows, and fresh currents of air +poured into the room. Over the mountains in the east came the first +shaft of day. The surface of the river was lightening. + +“What shall we do with them?” asked Paul, pointing to the silent forms +on the floor. + +“Leave them,” said Henry. “Butler's army is burning everything before +it, and this house and all in it is bound to go. You notice, however, +that Braxton Wyatt is not here.” + +“Trust him to escape every time,” said Shif'less Sol. “Of course he +stood back while the Indians rushed the house. But ez shore ez we live +somebody will get him some day. People like that can't escape always.” + +They slipped from the house, turning toward the river bank, and not long +after it was full daylight they were at Forty Fort again, where they +found Standish and his family. Henry replied briefly to the man's +questions, but two hours later a scout came in and reported the grim +sight that he had seen in the Standish home. No one could ask for +further proof of the fealty of the five, who sought a little sleep, but +before noon were off again. + +They met more fugitives, and it was now too dangerous to go farther up +the valley. But not willing to turn back, they ascended the mountains +that hem it in, and from the loftiest point that they could find sought +a sight of the enemy. + +It was an absolutely brilliant day in summer. The blue of the heavens +showed no break but the shifting bits of white cloud, and the hills and +mountains rolled away, solid masses of rich, dark green. The river, a +beautiful river at any time, seemed from this height a great current of +quicksilver. Henry pointed to a place far up the stream where black dots +appeared on its surface. These dots were moving, and they came on in +four lines. + +“Boys,” he said, “you know what those lines of black dots are?” + +“Yes,” replied Shif'less Sol, “it's Butler's army of Indians, Tories, +Canadians, an' English. They've come from Tioga Point on the river, an' +our Colonel Butler kin expect 'em soon.” + +The sunlight became dazzling, and showed the boats, despite the +distance, with startling clearness. The five, watching from their peak, +saw them turn in toward the land, where they poured forth a motley +stream of red men and white, a stream that was quickly swallowed up in +the forest. + +“They are coming down through the woods on the fort, said Tom Ross. + +“And they're coming fast,” said Henry. “It's for us to carry the +warning.” + +They sped back to the Wyoming fort, spreading the alarm as they passed, +and once more they were in the council room with Colonel Zebulon Butler +and his officers around him. + +“So they are at hand, and you have seen them?” said the colonel. + +“Yes,” replied Henry, the spokesman, “they came down from Tioga Point +in boats, but have disembarked and are advancing through the woods. They +will be here today.” + +There was a little silence in the room. The older men understood the +danger perhaps better than the younger, who were eager for battle. + +“Why should we stay here and wait for them?” exclaimed one of the +younger captains at length-some of these captains were mere boys. “Why +not go out, meet them, and beat them?” + +“They outnumber us about five to one,” said Henry. “Brant, if he is +still with them, though he may have gone to some other place from Tioga +Point, is a great captain. So is Timmendiquas, the Wyandot, and they say +that the Tory leader is energetic and capable.” + +“It is all true!” exclaimed Colonel Butler. “We must stay in the fort! +We must not go out to meet them! We are not strong enough!” + +A murmur of protest and indignation came from the younger officers. + +“And leave the valley to be ravaged! Women and children to be scalped, +while we stay behind log walls!” said one of them boldly. + +The men in the Wyoming fort were not regular troops, merely militia, +farmers gathered hastily for their own defense. + +Colonel Butler flushed. + +“We have induced as many as we could to seek refuge,” he said. “It hurts +me as much as you to have the valley ravaged while we sit quiet here. +But I know that we have no chance against so large a force, and if we +fall what is to become of the hundreds whom we now protect?” + +But the murmur of protest grew. All the younger men were indignant. They +would not seek shelter for themselves while others were suffering. A +young lieutenant saw from a window two fires spring up and burn like +torch lights against the sky. They were houses blazing before the Indian +brand. + +“Look at that!” he cried, pointing with an accusing finger, “and we are +here, under cover, doing nothing!” + +A deep angry mutter went about the room, but Colonel Butler, although +the flush remained on his face, still shook his head. He glanced at Tom +Ross, the oldest of the five. + +“You know about the Indian force,” he exclaimed. “What should we do?” + +The face of Tom Ross was very grave, and he spoke slowly, as was his +wont. + +“It's a hard thing to set here,” he exclaimed, “but it will be harder to +go out an' meet 'em on their own ground, an' them four or five to one.” + +“We must not go out,” repeated the Colonel, glad of such backing. + +The door was thrust open, and an officer entered. + +“A rumor has just arrived, saying that the entire Davidson family has +been killed and scalped,” he said. + +A deep, angry cry went up. Colonel Butler and the few who stood with +him were overborne. Such things as these could not be endured, and +reluctantly the commander gave his consent. They would go out and +fight. The fort and its enclosures were soon filled with the sounds of +preparation, and the little army was formed rapidly. + +“We will fight by your side, of course,” said Henry, “but we wish to +serve on the flank as an independent band. We can be of more service in +that manner.” + +The colonel thanked them gratefully. + +“Act as you think best,” he said. + +The five stood near one of the gates, while the little force formed +in ranks. Almost for the first time they were gloomy upon going into +battle. They had seen the strength of that army of Indians, renegades, +Tories, Canadians, and English advancing under the banner of England, +and they knew the power and fanaticism of the Indian leaders. They +believed that the terrible Queen Esther, tomahawk in hand, had +continually chanted to them her songs of blood as they came down the +river. It was now the third of July, and valley and river were beautiful +in the golden sunlight. The foliage showed vivid and deep green on +either line of high hills. The summer sun had never shown more kindly +over the lovely valley. + +The time was now three o'clock. The gates of the fort were thrown open, +and the little army marched out, only three hundred, of whom seventy +were old men, or boys so young that in our day they would be called +children. Yet they marched bravely against the picked warriors of the +Iroquois, trained from infancy to the forest and war, and a formidable +body of white rovers who wished to destroy the little colony of +“rebels,” as they called them. + +Small though it might be, it was a gallant army. Young and old held +their heads high. A banner was flying, and a boy beat a steady insistent +roll upon a drum. Henry and his comrades were on the left flank, the +river was on the right. The great gates had closed behind them, shutting +in the women and the children. The sun blazed down, throwing everything +into relief with its intense, vivid light playing upon the brown faces +of the borderers, their rifles and their homespun clothes. Colonel +Butler and two or three of his officers were on horseback, leading the +van. Now that the decision was to fight, the older officers, who had +opposed it, were in the very front. Forward they went, and spread out +a little, but with the right flank still resting on the river, and the +left extended on the plain. + +The five were on the edge of the plain, a little detached from the +others, searching the forest for a sign of the enemy, who was already so +near. Their gloom did not decrease. Neither the rolling of the drum nor +the flaunting of the banner had any effect. Brave though the men might +be, this was not the way in which they should meet an Indian foe who +outnumbered them four or five to one. + +“I don't like it,” muttered Tom Ross. + +“Nor do I,” said Henry, “but remember that whatever happens we all stand +together.” + +“We remember!” said the others. + +On-they went, and the five moving faster were now ahead of the main +force some hundred yards. They swung in a little toward the river. The +banks here were highland off to the left was a large swamp. The five now +checked speed and moved with great wariness. They saw nothing, and they +heard nothing, either, until they went forty or fifty yards farther. +Then a low droning sound came to their ears. It was the voice of one yet +far away, but they knew it. It was the terrible chant of Queen Esther, +in this moment the most ruthless of all the savages, and inflaming them +continuously for the combat. + +The five threw themselves flat on their faces, and waited a little. The +chant grew louder, and then through the foliage they saw the ominous +figure approaching. She was much as she had been on that night when they +first beheld her. She wore the same dress of barbaric colors, she swung +the same great tomahawk about her head, and sang all the time of fire +and blood and death. + +They saw behind her the figures of chiefs, naked to the breech cloth for +battle, their bronze bodies glistening with the war paint, and bright +feathers gleaming in their hair. Henry recognized the tall form of +Timmendiquas, notable by his height, and around him his little band of +Wyandots, ready to prove themselves mighty warriors to their eastern +friends the Iroquois. Back of these was a long line of Indians and their +white allies, Sir John Johnson's Royal Greens and Butler's Rangers +in the center, bearing the flag of England. The warriors, of whom the +Senecas were most numerous, were gathered in greatest numbers on their +right flank, facing the left flank of the Americans. Sangerachte and +Hiokatoo, who had taken two English prisoners at Braddock's defeat, and +who had afterwards burned them both alive with his own hand, were the +principal leaders of the Senecas. Henry caught a glimpse of “Indian” + Butler in the center, with a great blood-red handkerchief tied around +his head, and, despite the forest, he noticed with a great sinking of +the heart how far the hostile line extended. It could wrap itself like a +python around the defense. + +“It's a tale that will soon be told,” said Paul. + +They went back swiftly, and warned Colonel Butler that the enemy was +at band. Even as they spoke they heard the loud wailing chant of Queen +Esther, and then came the war whoop, pouring from a thousand throats, +swelling defiant and fierce like the cry of a wounded beast. The +farmers, the boys, and the old men, most of whom had never been in +battle, might well tremble at this ominous sound, so great in volume +and extending so far into the forest. But they stood firm, drawing +themselves into a somewhat more compact body, and still advancing with +their banners flying, and the boy beating out that steady roll on the +drum. + +The enemy now came into full sight, and Colonel Butler deployed his +force in line of battle, his right resting on the high bank of the river +and his left against the swamp. Forward pressed the motley army of the +other Butler, he of sanguinary and cruel fame, and the bulk of his +force came into view, the sun shining down on the green uniforms of the +English and the naked brown bodies of the Iroquois. + +The American commander gave the order to fire. Eager fingers were +already on the trigger, and a blaze of light ran along the entire rank. +The Royal Greens and Rangers, although replying with their own fire, +gave back before the storm of bullets, and the Wyoming men, with a shout +of triumph, sprang forward. It was always a characteristic of the border +settler, despite many disasters and a knowledge of Indian craft and +cunning, to rush straight at his foe whenever he saw him. His, unless +a trained forest warrior himself, was a headlong bravery, and now this +gallant little force asked for nothing but to come to close grips with +the enemy. + +The men in the center with “Indian” Butler gave back still more. With +cries of victory the Wyoming men pressed forward, firing rapidly, and +continuing to drive the mongrel white force. The rifles were cracking +rapidly, and smoke arose over the two lines. The wind caught wisps of it +and carried them off down the river. + +“It goes better than I thought,” said Paul as he reloaded his rifle. + +“Not yet,” said Henry, “we are fighting the white men only. Where are +all the Indians, who alone outnumber our men more than two to one?” + +“Here they come,” said Shif'less Sol, pointing to the depths of the +swamp, which was supposed to protect the left flank of the Wyoming +force. + +The five saw in the spaces, amid the briars and vines, scores of dark +figures leaping over the mud, naked to the breech cloth, armed with +rifle and tomahawk, and rushing down upon the unprotected side of their +foe. The swamp had been but little obstacle to them. + +Henry and his comrades gave the alarm at once. As many as possible were +called off immediately from the main body, but they were not numerous +enough to have any effect. The Indians came through the swamp in +hundreds and hundreds, and, as they uttered their triumphant yell, +poured a terrible fire into the Wyoming left flank. The defenders were +forced to give ground, and the English and Tories came on again. + +The fire was now deadly and of great volume. The air was filled with +the flashing of the rifles. The cloud of smoke grew heavier, and faces, +either from heat or excitement, showed red through it. The air was +filled with bullets, and the Wyoming force was being cut down fast, as +the fire of more than a thousand rifles converged upon it. + +The five at the fringe of the swamp loaded and fired as fast as they +could at the Indian horde, but they saw that it was creeping closer and +closer, and that the hail of bullets it sent in was cutting away +the whole left flank of the defenders. They saw the tall figure of +Timmendiquas, a very god of war, leading on the Indians, with his +fearless Wyandots in a close cluster around him. Colonel John Durkee, +gathering up a force of fifty or sixty, charged straight at the +warriors, but he was killed by a withering volley, which drove his men +back. + +Now occurred a fatal thing, one of those misconceptions which often +decide the fate of a battle. The company of Captain Whittlesey, on the +extreme left, which was suffering most severely, was ordered to fall +back. The entire little army, which was being pressed hard now, seeing +the movement of Whittlesey, began to retreat. Even without the mistake +it is likely they would have lost in the face of such numbers. + +The entire horde of Indians, Tories, Canadians, English, and renegades, +uttering a tremendous yell, rushed forward. Colonel Zebulon Butler, +seeing the crisis, rode up and down in front of his men, shouting: +“Don't leave me, my children! the victory is ours!” Bravely his officers +strove to stop the retreat. Every captain who led a company into action +was killed. Some of these captains were but boys. The men were falling +by dozens. + +All the Indians, by far the most formidable part of the invading force, +were through the swamp now, and, dashing down their unloaded rifles, +threw themselves, tomahawk in hand, upon the defense. Not more than two +hundred of the Wyoming men were left standing, and the impact of seven +or eight hundred savage warriors was so great that they were hurled back +in confusion. A wail of grief and terror came from the other side of +the river, where a great body of women and children were watching the +fighting. + +“The battle's lost,” said Shif'less Sol. + +“Beyond hope of saving it,” said Henry, “but, boys, we five are alive +yet, and we'll do our best to help the others protect the retreat.” + +They kept under cover, fighting as calmly as they could amid such a +terrible scene, picking off warrior after warrior, saving more than one +soldier ere the tomahawk fell. Shif'less Sol took a shot at “Indian” + Butler, but he was too far away, and the bullet missed him. + +“I'd give five years of my life if he were fifty yards nearer,” + exclaimed the shiftless one. + +But the invading force came in between and he did not get another shot. +There was now a terrible medley, a continuous uproar, the crashing fire +of hundreds of rifles, the shouts of the Indians, and the cries of the +wounded. Over them all hovered smoke and dust, and the air was heavy, +too, with the odor of burnt gunpowder. The division of old men and very +young boys stood next, and the Indians were upon them, tomahawk in hand, +but in the face of terrible odds all bore themselves with a valor worthy +of the best of soldiers. Three fourths of them died that day, before +they were driven back on the fort. + +The Wyoming force was pushed away from the edge of the swamp, which had +been some protection to the left, and they were now assailed from all +sides except that of the river. “Indian” Butler raged at the head of his +men, who had been driven back at first, and who had been saved by the +Indians. Timmendiquas, in the absence of Brant, who was not seen upon +this field, became by valor and power of intellect the leader of all the +Indians for this moment. The Iroquois, although their own fierce chiefs, +I-Tiokatoo, Sangerachte, and the others fought with them, unconsciously +obeyed him. Nor did the fierce woman, Queen Esther, shirk the battle. +Waving her great tomahawk, she was continually among the warriors, +singing her song of war and death. + +They were driven steadily back toward the fort, and the little band +crumbled away beneath the deadly fire. Soon none would be left unless +they ran for their lives. The five drew away toward the forest. They +saw that the fort itself could not hold out against such a numerous and +victorious foe, and they had no mind to be trapped. But their retreat +was slow, and as they went they sent bullet after bullet into the Indian +flank. Only a small percentage of the Wyoming force was left, and it now +broke. Colonel Butler and Colonel Dennison, who were mounted, reached +the fort. Some of the men jumped into the river, swam to the other shore +and escaped. Some swam to a little island called Monocacy, and hid, but +the Tories and Indians hunted them out and slew them. One Tory found his +brother there, and killed him with his own hand, a deed of unspeakable +horror that is yet mentioned by the people of that region. A few fled +into the forest and entered the fort at night. + + + + +CHAPTER X. THE BLOODY ROCK + + +Seeing that all was lost, the five drew farther away into the woods. +They were not wounded, yet their faces were white despite the tan. They +had never before looked upon so terrible a scene. The Indians, wild with +the excitement of a great triumph and thirsting for blood, were running +over the field scalping the dead, killing some of the wounded, and +saving others for the worst of tortures. Nor were their white allies one +whit behind them. They bore a full part in the merciless war upon the +conquered. Timmendiquas, the great Wyandot, was the only one to show +nobility. Several of the wounded he saved from immediate death, and he +tried to hold back the frenzied swarm of old squaws who rushed forward +and began to practice cruelties at which even the most veteran warrior +might shudder. But Queen Esther urged them on, and “Indian” Butler +himself and the chiefs were afraid of her. + +Henry, despite himself, despite all his experience and powers of +self-control, shuddered from head to foot at the cries that came from +the lost field, and he was sure that the others were doing the same. The +sun was setting, but its dying light, brilliant and intense, tinged the +field as if with blood, showing all the yelling horde as the warriors +rushed about for scalps, or danced in triumph, whirling their hideous +trophies about their heads. Others were firing at men who were escaping +to the far bank of the Susquehanna, and others were already seeking the +fugitives in their vain hiding places on the little islet. + +The five moved farther into the forest, retreating slowly, and sending +in a shot now and then to protect the retreat of some fugitive who was +seeking the shelter of the woods. The retreat had become a rout and then +a massacre. The savages raged up and down in the greatest killing they +had known since Braddock's defeat. The lodges of the Iroquois would be +full of the scalps of white men. + +All the five felt the full horror of the scene, but it made its deepest +impress, perhaps, upon Paul. He had taken part in border battles before, +but this was the first great defeat. He was not blind to the valor and +good qualities of the Indian and his claim upon the wilderness, but he +saw the incredible cruelties that he could commit, and he felt a horror +of those who used him as an ally, a horror that he could never dismiss +from his mind as long as he lived. + +“Look!” he exclaimed, “look at that!” + +A man of seventy and a boy of fourteen were running for the forest. They +might have been grandfather and grandson. Undoubtedly they had fought +in the Battalion of the Very Old and the Very Young, and now, when +everything else was lost, they were seeking to save their lives in the +friendly shelter of the woods. But they were pursued by two groups of +Iroquois, four warriors in one, and three in the other, and the Indians +were gaining fast. + +“I reckon we ought to save them,” said Shif'less Sol. + +“No doubt of it,” said Henry. “Paul, you and Sol move off to the right +a little, and take the three, while the rest of us will look out for the +four.” + +The little band separated according to the directions, Paul and Sol +having the lighter task, as the others were to meet the group of four +Indians at closer range. Paul and Sol were behind some trees, and, +turning at an angle, they ran forward to intercept the three Indians. It +would have seemed to anyone who was not aware of the presence of friends +in the forest that the old man and the boy would surely be overtaken and +be tomahawked, but three rifles suddenly flashed among the foliage. Two +of the warriors in the group of four fell, and a third uttered a yell +of pain. Paul and Shif'less Sol fired at the same time at the group of +three. One fell before the deadly rifle of Shif'less Sol, but Paul only +grazed his man. Nevertheless, the whole pursuit stopped, and the boy +and the old man escaped to the forest, and subsequently to safety at the +Moravian towns. + +Paul, watching the happy effect of the shots, was about to say something +to Shif'less Sol, when an immense force was hurled upon him, and he was +thrown to the ground. His comrade was served in the same way, but the +shiftless one was uncommonly strong and agile. He managed to writhe half +way to his knees, and he shouted in a tremendous voice: + +“Run, Henry, run! You can't do anything for us now!” + +Braxton Wyatt struck him fiercely across the mouth. The blood came, +but the shiftless one merely spat it out, and looked curiously at the +renegade. + +“I've often wondered about you, Braxton,” he said calmly. “I used to +think that anybody, no matter how bad, had some good in him, but I +reckon you ain't got none.” + +Wyatt did not answer, but rushed forward in search of the others. +But Henry, Silent Tom, and Long Jim had vanished. A powerful party +of warriors had stolen upon Shif'less Sol and Paul, while they were +absorbed in the chase of the old man and the boy, and now they were +prisoners, bound securely. Braxton Wyatt came back from the fruitless +search for the three, but his face was full of savage joy as he looked +down at the captured two. + +“We could have killed you just as easily,” he said, “but we didn't +want to do that. Our friends here are going to have their fun with you +first.” + +Paul's cheeks whitened a little at the horrible suggestion, but +Shif'less Sol faced them boldly. Several white men in uniform had come +up, and among them was an elderly one, short and squat, and with a great +flame colored handkerchief tied around his bead. + +“You may burn us alive, or you may do other things jest ez bad to us, +all under the English flag,” said Shif'less Sol, “but I'm thinkin' that +a lot o' people in England will be ashamed uv it when they hear the +news.” + +“Indian” Butler and his uniformed soldiers turned away, leaving +Shif'less Sol and Paul in the hands of the renegade and the Iroquois. +The two prisoners were jerked to their feet and told to march. + + +“Come on, Paul,” said Shif'less Sol. “'Tain't wuth while fur us to +resist. But don't you quit hopin', Paul. We've escaped from many a tight +corner, an' mebbe we're goin' to do it ag'in.” + +“Shut up!” said Braxton Wyatt savagely. “If you say another word I'll +gag you in a way that will make you squirm.” + +Shif'less Sol looked him squarely in the eye. Solomon Hyde, who was not +shiftless at all, had a dauntless soul, and he was not afraid now in the +face of death preceded by long torture. + +“I had a dog once, Braxton Wyatt,” he said, “an' I reckon he wuz the +meanest, ornierest cur that ever lived. He liked to live on dirt, the +dirtier the place he could find the better; he'd rather steal his food +than get it honestly; he wuz sech a coward that he wuz afeard o' a +rabbit, but ef your back wuz turned to him he'd nip you in the ankle. +But bad ez that dog wuz, Braxton, he wuz a gentleman 'longside o' you.” + +Some of the Indians understood English, and Wyatt knew it. He snatched +a pistol from his belt, and was about to strike Sol with the butt of it, +but a tall figure suddenly appeared before him, and made a commanding +gesture. The gesture said plainly: “Do not strike; put that pistol +back!” Braxton Wyatt, whose soul was afraid within him, did not strike, +and he put the pistol back. + +It was Timmendiquas, the great White Lightning of the Wyandots, who +with his little detachment had proved that day how mighty the Wyandot +warriors were, full equals of Thayendanegea's Mohawks, the Keepers of +the Western Gate. He was bare to the waist. One shoulder was streaked +with blood from a slight wound, but his countenance was not on fire with +passion for torture and slaughter like those of the others. + +“There is no need to strike prisoners,” he said in English. “Their fate +will be decided later.” + +Paul thought that he caught a look of pity from the eyes of the great +Wyandot, and Shif'less Sol said: + +“I'm sorry, Timmendiquas, since I had to be captured, that you didn't +capture me yourself. I'm glad to say that you're a great warrior.” + +Wyatt growled under his breath, but he was still afraid to speak out, +although he knew that Timmendiquas was merely a distant and casual ally, +and had little authority in that army. Yet he was overawed, and so were +the Indians with him. + +“We were merely taking the prisoners to Colonel Butler,” he said. “That +is all.” + +Timmendiquas stared at him, and the renegade's face fell. But he and the +Indians went on with the prisoners, and Timmendiquas looked after them +until they were out of sight. + +“I believe White Lightning was sorry that we'd been captured,” whispered +Shif'less Sol. + +“I think so, too,” Paul whispered back. + +They had no chance for further conversation, as they were driven rapidly +now to that point of the battlefield which lay nearest to the fort, +and here they were thrust into the midst of a gloomy company, fellow +captives, all bound tightly, and many wounded. No help, no treatment of +any kind was offered for hurts. The Indians and renegades stood about +and yelled with delight when the agony of some man's wound wrung from +him a groan. The scene was hideous in every respect. The setting sun +shone blood red over forest, field, and river. Far off burning houses +still smoked like torches. But the mountain wall in the east, was +growing dusky with the coming twilight. From the island, where they were +massacring the fugitives in their vain hiding places, came the sound +of shots and cries, but elsewhere the firing had ceased. All who could +escape had done so already, and of the others, those who were dead were +fortunate. + +The sun sank like a red ball behind the mountains, and darkness swept +down over the earth. Fires began to blaze up here and there, some for +terrible purpose. The victorious Iroquois; stripped to the waist and +painted in glaring colors, joined in a savage dance that would remain +forever photographed on the eye of Paul Cotter. As they jumped to and +fro, hundreds of them, waving aloft tomahawks and scalping knives, both +of which dripped red, they sang their wild chant of war and triumph. +White men, too, as savage as they, joined them. Paul shuddered again +and again from head to foot at this sight of an orgy such as the mass of +mankind escapes, even in dreams. + +The darkness thickened, the dance grew wilder. It was like a carnival +of demons, but it was to be incited to a yet wilder pitch. A singular +figure, one of extraordinary ferocity, was suddenly projected into the +midst of the whirling crowd, and a chant, shriller and fiercer, rose +above all the others. The figure was that of Queen Esther, like some +monstrous creature out of a dim past, her great tomahawk stained with +blood, her eyes bloodshot, and stains upon her shoulders. Paul would +have covered his eyes had his hands not been tied instead, he turned his +head away. He could not bear to see more. But the horrible chant came to +his ears, nevertheless, and it was reinforced presently by other sounds +still more terrible. Fires sprang up in the forest, and cries came from +these fires. The victorious army of “Indian” Butler was beginning to +burn the prisoners alive. But at this point we must stop. The details +of what happened around those fires that night are not for the ordinary +reader. It suffices to say that the darkest deed ever done on the soil +of what is now the United States was being enacted. + +Shif'less Sol himself, iron of body and soul, was shaken. He could not +close his ears, if he would, to the cries that came from the fires, but +he shut his eyes to keep out the demon dance. Nevertheless, he opened +them again in a moment. The horrible fascination was too great. He saw +Queen Esther still shaking her tomahawk, but as he looked she suddenly +darted through the circle, warriors willingly giving way before her, and +disappeared in the darkness. The scalp dance went on, but it had lost +some of its fire and vigor. + +Shif'less Sol felt relieved. + +“She's gone,” he whispered to Paul, and the boy, too, then opened his +eyes. The rest of it, the mad whirlings and jumpings of the warriors, +was becoming a blur before him, confused and without meaning. + +Neither he nor Shif'less Sol knew how long they had been sitting there +on the ground, although it had grown yet darker, when Braxton Wyatt +thrust a violent foot against the shiftless one and cried: + +“Get up! You're wanted!” + +A half dozen Seneca warriors were with him, and there was no chance of +resistance. The two rose slowly to their feet, and walked where Braxton +Wyatt led. The Senecas came on either side, and close behind them, +tomahawks in their hands. Paul, the sensitive, who so often felt the +impression of coming events from the conditions around him, was sure +that they were marching to their fate. Death he did not fear so greatly, +although he did not want to die, but when a shriek came to him from one +of the fires that convulsive shudder shook him again from head to foot. +Unconsciously he strained at his bound arms, not for freedom, but that +he might thrust his fingers in his ears and shut out the awful sounds. +Shif'less Sol, because he could not use his hands, touched his shoulder +gently against Paul's. + +“Paul,” he whispered, “I ain't sure that we're goin' to die, leastways, +I still have hope; but ef we do, remember that we don't have to die but +oncet.” + +“I'll remember, Sol,” Paul whispered back. + +“Silence, there!” exclaimed Braxton Wyatt. But the two had said all they +wanted to say, and fortunately their senses were somewhat dulled. They +had passed through so much that they were like those who are under the +influence of opiates. The path was now dark, although both torches and +fires burned in the distance. Presently they heard that chant with which +they had become familiar, the dreadful notes of the hyena woman, and +they knew that they were being taken into her presence, for what purpose +they could not tell, although they were sure that it was a bitter one. +As they approached, the woman's chant rose to an uncommon pitch of +frenzy, and Paul felt the blood slowly chilling within him. + +“Get up there!” exclaimed Braxton Wyatt, and the Senecas gave them both +a push. Other warriors who were standing at the edge of an open space +seized them and threw them forward with much violence. When they +struggled into a sitting position, they saw Queen Esther standing upon a +broad flat rock and whirling in a ghastly dance that had in it something +Oriental. She still swung the great war hatchet that seemed always to be +in her hand. Her long black hair flew wildly about her head, and her red +dress gleamed in the dusk. Surely no more terrible image ever appeared +in the American wilderness! In front of her, lying upon the ground, were +twenty bound Americans, and back of them were Iroquois in dozens, with a +sprinkling of their white allies. + +What it all meant, what was about to come to pass, nether Paul nor +Shif'less Sol could guess, but Queen Esther sang: + + We have found them, the Yengees + Who built their houses in the valley, + They came forth to meet us in battle, + Our rifles and tomahawks cut them down, + As the Yengees lay low the forest. + Victory and glory Aieroski gives to his children, + The Mighty Six Nations, greatest of men. + + There will be feasting in the lodges of the Iroquois, + And scalps will hang on the high ridge pole, + But wolves will roam where the Yengees dwelt + And will gnaw the bones of them all, + Of the man, the woman, and the child. + Victory and glory Aieroski gives to his children, + The Mighty Six Nations, greatest of men. + +Such it sounded to Shif'less Sol, who knew the tongue of the Iroquois, +and so it went on, verse after verse, and at the end of each verse came +the refrain, in which the warriors joined: + +“Victory and glory Aieroski gives to his children. The mighty Six +Nations, greatest of men.” + +“What under the sun is she about?” whispered Shif'less Sol. + +“It is a fearful face,” was Paul's only reply. + +Suddenly the woman, without stopping her chant, made a gesture to +the warriors. Two powerful Senecas seized one of the bound prisoners, +dragged him to his feet, and held him up before her. She uttered a +shout, whirled the great tomahawk about her head, its blade glittering +in the moonlight, and struck with all her might. The skull of the +prisoner was cleft to the chin, and without a cry he fell at the feet of +the woman who had killed him. Paul uttered a shout of horror, but it +was lost in the joyful yells of the Iroquois, who, at the command of the +woman, offered a second victim. Again the tomahawk descended, and again +a man fell dead without a sound. + +Shif'less Sol and Paul wrenched at their thongs, but they could not move +them. Braxton Wyatt laughed aloud. It was strange to see how fast one +with a bad nature could fall when the opportunities were spread before +him. Now he was as cruel as the Indians themselves. Wilder and shriller +grew the chant of the savage queen. She was intoxicated with blood. She +saw it everywhere. Her tomahawk clove a third skull, a fourth, a fifth, +a sixth, a seventh, and eighth. As fast as they fell the warriors at her +command brought up new victims for her weapon. Paul shut his eyes, but +he knew by the sounds what was passing. Suddenly a stern voice cried: + +“Hold, woman! Enough of this! Will your tomahawk never be satisfied?” + +Paul understood it, the meaning, but not the words. He opened his eyes +and saw the great figure of Timmendiquas striding forward, his hand +upraised in protest. + +The woman turned her fierce gaze upon the young chief. “Timmendiquas,” + she said, “we are the Iroquois, and we are the masters. You are far from +your own land, a guest in our lodges, and you cannot tell those who have +won the victory how they shall use it. Stand back!” + +A loud laugh came from the Iroquois. The fierce old chiefs, Hiokatoo and +Sangerachte, and a dozen warriors thrust themselves before Timmendiquas. +The woman resumed her chant, and a hundred throats pealed out with her +the chorus: + +Victory and glory Aieroski gives to his children The mighty Six Nations, +greatest of men. + +She gave the signal anew. The ninth victim stood before her, and then +fell, cloven to the chin; then the tenth, and the eleventh, and the +twelfth, and the thirteenth, and the fourteenth, and the fifteenth, and +the sixteenth-sixteen bound men killed by one woman in less than fifteen +minutes. The four in that group who were left had all the while been +straining fearfully at their bonds. Now they had slipped or broken +them, and, springing to their feet, driven on by the mightiest of human +impulses, they dashed through the ring of Iroquois and into the forest. +Two were hunted down by the warriors and killed, but the other two, +Joseph Elliott and Lebbeus Hammond, escaped and lived to be old men, +feeling that life could never again hold for them anything so dreadful +as that scene at “The Bloody Rock.” + +A great turmoil and confusion arose as the prisoners fled and the +Indians pursued. Paul and Shif'less Sol; full of sympathy and pity for +the fugitives and having felt all the time that their turn, too, would +come under that dreadful tomahawk, struggled to their feet. They did +not see a form slip noiselessly behind them, but a sharp knife descended +once, then twice, and the bands of both fell free. + +“Run! run!” exclaimed the voice of Timmendiquas, low but penetrating. “I +would save you from this!” + +Amid the darkness and confusion the act of the great Wyandot was not +seen by the other Indians and the renegades. Paul flashed him one look +of gratitude, and then he and Shif'less Sol darted away, choosing a +course that led them from the crowd in pursuit of the other flying +fugitives. + +At such a time they might have secured a long lead without being +noticed, had it not been for the fierce swarm of old squaws who were +first in cruelty that night. A shrill wild howl arose, and the pointing +fingers of the old women showed to the warriors the two in flight. At +the same time several of the squaws darted forward to intercept the +fugitives. + +“I hate to hit a woman,” breathed Shif'less Sol to Paul, “but I'm goin' +to do it now.” + +A hideous figure sprang before them. Sol struck her face with his open +hand, and with a shriek she went down. He leaped over her, although +she clawed at his feet as he passed, and ran on, with Paul at his side. +Shots were now fired at him, but they went wild, but Paul, casting a +look backward out of the corner of his eye, saw that a real pursuit, +silent and deadly, had begun. Five Mohawk warriors, running swiftly, +were only a few hundred yards away. They carried rifle, tomahawk, and +knife, and Paul and Shif'less Sol were unarmed. Moreover, they were +coming fast, spreading out slightly, and the shiftless one, able even +at such a time to weigh the case coolly, saw that the odds were against +them. Yet he would not despair. Anything might happen. It was night. +There was little organization in the army of the Indians and of their +white allies, which was giving itself up to the enjoyment of scalps and +torture. Moreover, he and Paul were, animated by the love of life, which +is always stronger than the desire to give death. + +Their flight led them in a diagonal line toward the mountains. Only once +did the pursuers give tongue. Paul tripped over a root, and a triumphant +yell came from the Mohawks. But it merely gave him new life. He +recovered himself in an instant and ran faster. But it was terribly hard +work. He could hear Shif'less Sol's sobbing breath by his side, and he +was sure that his own must have the same sound for his comrade. + +“At any rate one uv 'em is beat,” gasped Shif'less Sol. “Only four are +ban-in' on now.” + +The ground rose a little and became rougher. The lights from the Indian +fires had sunk almost out of sight behind them, and a dense thicket lay +before them. Something stirred in the thicket, and the eyes of Shif'less +Sol caught a glimpse of a human shoulder. His heart sank like a plummet +in a pool. The Indians were ahead of them. They would be caught, and +would be carried back to become the victims of the terrible tomahawk. + +The figure in the bushes rose a little higher, the muzzle of a rifle was +projected, and flame leaped from the steel tube. + +But it was neither Shif'less Sol nor Paul who fell. They heard a cry +behind them, and when Shif'less Sol took a hasty glance backward he saw +one of the Mohawks fall. The three who were left hesitated and stopped. +When a second shot was fired from the bushes and another Mohawk went +down, the remaining two fled. + +Shif'less Sol understood now, and he rushed into the bushes, dragging +Paul after him. Henry, Tom, and Long Jim rose up to receive them. + +“So you wuz watchin' over us!” exclaimed the shiftless one joyously. “It +wuz you that clipped off the first Mohawk, an' we didn't even notice the +shot.” + +“Thank God, you were here!” exclaimed Paul. “You don't know what Sol and +I have seen!” + +Overwrought, he fell forward, but his comrades caught him. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. THE MELANCHOLY FLIGHT + + +Paul revived in a few minutes. They were still lying in the bushes, +and when he was able to stand up again, they moved at an angle several +hundred yards before they stopped. One pistol was thrust into Paul's +hand and another into that of Shif'less Sol. + +“Keep those until we can get rifles for you,” said Henry. “You may need +'em to-night.” + +They crouched down in the thicket and looked back toward the Indian +camp. The warriors whom they had repulsed were not returning with help, +and, for the moment, they seemed to have no enemy to fear, yet they +could still see through the woods the faint lights of the Indian camps, +and to Paul, at least, came the echoes of distant cries that told of +things not to be written. + +“We saw you captured, and we heard Sol's warning cry,” said Henry. +“There was nothing to do but run. Then we hid and waited a chance for +rescue.” + +“It would never have come if it had not been for Timmendiquas,” said +Paul. + +“Timmendiquas!” exclaimed Henry. + +“Yes, Timmendiquas,” said Paul, and then he told the story of “The +Bloody Rock,” and how, in the turmoil and excitement attending the +flight of the last four, Timmendiquas had cut the bonds of Shif'less Sol +and himself. + +“I think the mind o' White Lightnin', Injun ez he is,” said Shif'less +Sol, “jest naterally turned aginst so much slaughter an' torture o' +prisoners.” + +“I'm sure you're right,” said Henry. + +“'Pears strange to me,” said Long Jim Hart, “that Timmendiquas was made +an Injun. He's jest the kind uv man who ought to be white, an' he'd be +pow'ful useful, too. I don't jest eggzactly understan' it.” + +“He has certainly saved the lives of at least three of us,” said Henry. +“I hope we will get a chance to pay him back in full.” + +“But he's the only one,” said Shif'less Sol, thinking of all that he had +seen that night. “The Iroquois an' the white men that's allied with 'em +won't ever get any mercy from me, ef any uv 'em happen to come under +my thumb. I don't think the like o' this day an' night wuz ever done on +this continent afore. I'm for revenge, I am, like that place where the +Bible says, 'an eye for an eye, an' a tooth for a tooth,' an' I'm goin' +to stay in this part o' the country till we git it!” + +It was seldom that Shif'less Sol spoke with so much passion and energy. + +“We're all going to stay with you, Sol,” said Henry. “We're needed here. +I think we ought to circle about the fort, slip in if we can, and fight +with the defense.” + +“Yes, we'll do that,” said Shif'less Sol, “but the Wyoming fort can't +ever hold out. Thar ain't a hundred men left in it fit to fight, an' +thar are more than than a thousand howlin' devils outside ready to +attack it. Thar may be worse to come than anything we've yet seen.” + +“Still, we'll go in an' help,” said Henry. “Sol, when you an' Paul have +rested a little longer we'll make a big loop around in the woods, and +come up to the fort on the other side.” + +They were in full accord, and after an hour in the bushes, where they +lay completely hidden, recovering their vitality and energy, they +undertook to reach the fort and cabins inclosed by the palisades. +Paul was still weak from shock, but Shif'less Sol had fully recovered. +Neither bad weapons, but they were sure that the want could be supplied +soon. They curved around toward the west, intending to approach the fort +from the other side, but they did not wholly lose sight of the fires, +and they heard now and then the triumphant war whoop. The victors were +still engaged in the pleasant task of burning the prisoners to death. +Little did the five, seeing and feeling only their part of it there in +the dark woods, dream that the deeds of this day and night would soon +shock the whole civilized world, and remain, for generations, a crowning +act of infamy. But they certainly felt it deeply enough, and in each +heart burned a fierce desire for revenge upon the Iroquois. + +It was almost midnight when they secured entrance into the fort, which +was filled with grief and wailing. That afternoon more than one hundred +and fifty women within those walls had been made widows, and six hundred +children had been made orphans. But few men fit to bear arms were left +for its defense, and it was certain that the allied British and Indian +army would easily take it on the morrow. A demand for its surrender +in the name of King George III of England had already been made, and, +sitting at a little rough table in the cabin of Thomas Bennett, the +room lighted only by a single tallow wick, Colonel Butler and Colonel +Dennison were writing an agreement that the fort be surrendered the next +day, with what it should contain. But Colonel Butler put his wife on a +horse and escaped with her over the mountains. + +Stragglers, evading the tomahawk in the darkness, were coming in, only +to be surrendered the next day; others were pouring forth in a stream, +seeking the shelter of the mountains and the forest, preferring any +dangers that might be found there to the mercies of the victors. + +When Shif'less Sol learned that the fort was to be given up, he said: + +“It looks ez ef we had escaped from the Iroquois jest in time to beg 'em +to take us back.” + +“I reckon I ain't goin' to stay 'roun' here while things are bein' +surrendered,” said Long Jim Hart. + +“I'll do my surrenderin' to Iroquois when they've got my hands an' feet +tied, an' six or seven uv 'em are settin' on my back,” said Tom Ross. + +“We'll leave as soon as we can get arms for Sol and Paul,” said Henry. +“Of course it would be foolish of us to stay here and be captured again. +Besides, we'll be needed badly enough by the women and children that are +going.” + +Good weapons were easily obtained in the fort. It was far better to let +Sol and Paul have them than to leave them for the Indians. They were +able to select two fine rifles of the Kentucky pattern, long and +slender barreled, a tomahawk and knife for each, and also excellent +double-barreled pistols. The other three now had double-barreled +pistols, too. In addition they resupplied themselves with as much +ammunition as scouts and hunters could conveniently carry, and toward +morning left the fort. + +Sunrise found them some distance from the palisades, and upon the flank +of a frightened crowd of fugitives. It was composed of one hundred women +and children and a single man, James Carpenter, who was doing his best +to guide and protect them. They were intending to flee through the +wilderness to the Delaware and Lehigh settlements, chiefly Fort Penn, +built by Jacob Stroud, where Stroudsburg now is. + +When the five, darkened by weather and looking almost like Indians +themselves, approached, Carpenter stepped forward and raised his rifle. +A cry of dismay rose from the melancholy line, a cry so intensely bitter +that it cut Henry to the very heart. He threw up his hand, and exclaimed +in a loud voice: + +“We are friends, not Indians or Tories! We fought with you yesterday, +and we are ready to fight for you now!” + +Carpenter dropped the muzzle of the rifle. He had fought in the battle, +too, and he recognized the great youth and his comrades who had been +there with him. + +“What do you want of us?” asked he. + +“Nothing,” replied Henry, “except to help you.” + +Carpenter looked at them with a kind of sad pathos. + +“You don't belong here in Wyoming,” he said, “and there's nothing to +make you stick to us. What are you meaning to do?” + +“We will go with you wherever you intend to go,” replied Henry; “do +fighting for you if you need it, and hunt game for you, which you are +certain to need.” + +The weather-beaten face of the farmer worked. + +“I thought God had clean deserted us,” he said, “but I'm ready to take +it back. I reckon that he has sent you five to help me with all these +women and little ones.” + +It occurred to Henry that perhaps God, indeed, had sent them for this +very purpose, but he replied simply: + +“You lead on, and we'll stay in the rear and on the sides to watch for +the Indians. Draw into the woods, where we'll be hidden.” + +Carpenter, obscure hero, shouldered his rifle again, and led on toward +the woods. The long line of women and children followed. Some of the +women carried in their arms children too small to walk. Yet they were +more hopeful now when they saw that the five were friends. These lithe, +active frontiersmen, so quick, so skillful, and so helpful, raised their +courage. Yet it was a most doleful flight. Most of these women had +been made widows the day before, some of them had been made widows and +childless at the same time, and wondered why they should seek to live +longer. But the very mental stupor of many of them was an aid. They +ceased to cry out, and some even ceased to be afraid. + +Henry, Shif'less Sol, and Tom dropped to the rear. Paul and Long +Jim were on either flank, while Carpenter led slowly on toward the +mountains. + +“'Pears to me,” said Tom, “that the thing fur us to do is to hurry 'em +up ez much ez possible.” + +“So the Indians won't see 'em crossing the plain,” said Henry. “We +couldn't defend them against a large force, and it would merely be a +massacre. We must persuade them to walk faster.” + +Shif'less Sol was invaluable in this crisis. He could talk forever in +his-placid way, and, with his gentle encouragement, mild sarcasm, and +anecdotes of great feminine walkers that he had known, he soon had them +moving faster. + +Henry and Tom dropped farther to the rear. They could see ahead of them +the long dark line, coiling farther into the woods, but they could +also see to right and left towers of smoke rising in the clear morning +sunlight. These, they knew, came from burning houses, and they knew, +also, that the valley would be ravaged from end to end and from side +to side. After the surrender of the fort the Indians would divide into +small bands, going everywhere, and nothing could escape them. + +The sun rose higher, gilding the earth with glowing light, as if the +black tragedy had never happened, but the frontiersmen recognized their +greatest danger in this brilliant morning. Objects could be seen at a +great distance, and they could be seen vividly. + +Keen of sight and trained to know what it was they saw, Henry, Sol, and +Tom searched the country with their eyes, on all sides. They caught a +distant glimpse of the Susquehanna, a silver spot among some trees, and +they saw the sunlight glancing off the opposite mountains, but for the +present they saw nothing that seemed hostile. + +They allowed the distance between them and the retreating file to grow +until it was five or six hundred yards, and they might have let it grow +farther, but Henry made a signal, and the three lay down in the grass. + + +“You see 'em, don't you!” the youth whispered to his comrade. + +“Yes, down thar at the foot o' that hillock,” replied Shif'less Sol; +“two o' em, an' Senecas, I take it.” + +“They've seen that crowd of women and children,” said Henry. + +It was obvious that the flying column was discovered. The two Indians +stepped upon the hillock and gazed under their hands. It was too far +away for the three to see their faces, but they knew the joy that would +be shown there. The two could return with a few warriors and massacre +them all. + +“They must never get back to the other Indians with their news,” + whispered Henry. “I hate to shoot men from ambush, but it's got to be +done. Wait, they're coming a little closer.” + +The two Senecas advanced about thirty yards, and stopped again. + +“S'pose you fire at the one on the right, Henry,” said Tom, “an' me an' +Sol will take the one to the left.” + +“All right,” said Henry. “Fire!” + +They wasted no time, but pulled trigger. The one at whom Henry had aimed +fell, but the other, uttering a cry, made off, wounded, but evidently +with plenty of strength left. + +“We mustn't let him escape! We mustn't let him carry a warning!” cried +Henry. + +But Shif'less Sol and Tom Ross were already in pursuit, covering the +ground with long strides, and reloading as they ran. Under ordinary +circumstances no one of the three would have fired at a man running for +his life, but here the necessity was vital. If he lived, carrying the +tale that he had to tell, a hundred innocent ones might perish. Henry +followed his comrades, reloading his own rifle, also, but he stayed +behind. The Indian had a good lead, and he was gaining, as the others +were compelled to check speed somewhat as they put the powder and +bullets in their rifles. But Henry was near enough to Shif'less Sol and +Silent Tom to hear them exchange a few words. + +“How far away is that savage?” asked Shif'less Sol. + +“Hundred and eighty yards,” said Tom Ross. + +“Well, you take him in the head, and I'll take him in the body.” + +Henry saw the two rifle barrels go up and two flashes of flame leap from +the muzzles. The Indian fell forward and lay still. They went up to him, +and found that he was shot through the head and also through the body. + +“We may miss once, but we don't twice,” said Tom Ross. + +The human mind can be influenced so powerfully by events that the three +felt no compunction at all at the shooting of this fleeing Indian. It +was but a trifle compared with what they had seen the day and night +before. + +“We'd better take the weapons an' ammunition o' both uv 'em,” said Sol. +“They may be needed, an' some o' the women in that crowd kin shoot.” + +They gathered up the arms, powder, and ball, and waited a little to see +whether the shots had been heard by any other Indians, but there was +no indication of the presence of more warriors, and the rejoined the +fugitives. Long Jim had dropped back to the end of the line, and when he +saw that his comrades carried two extra rifles, he understood. + +“They didn't give no alarm, did they?” he asked in a tone so low that +none of the fugitives could hear. + +“They didn't have any chance,” replied Henry. “We've brought away all +their weapons and ammunition, but just say to the women that we found +them in an abandoned house.” + +The rifles and the other arms were given to the boldest and most +stalwart of the women, and they promised to use them if the need came. +Meanwhile the flight went on, and the farther it went the sadder it +became. Children became exhausted, and had to be carried by people so +tired that they could scarcely walk themselves. There was nobody in the +line who had not lost some beloved one on that fatal river bank, killed +in battle, or tortured to death. As they slowly ascended the green slope +of the mountain that inclosed a side of the valley, they looked back +upon ruin and desolation. The whole black tragedy was being consummated. +They could see the houses in flames, and they knew that the Indian war +parties were killing and scalping everywhere. They knew, too, that other +bodies of fugitives, as stricken as their own, were fleeing into the +mountains, they scarcely knew whither. + +As they paused a few moments and looked back, a great cry burst from +the weakest of the women and children. Then it became a sad and terrible +wail, and it was a long time before it ceased. It was an awful sound, so +compounded of despair and woe and of longing for what they had lost that +Henry choked, and the tears stood in Paul's eyes. But neither the five +nor Carpenter made any attempt to check the wailing. They thought it +best for them to weep it out, but they hurried the column as much as +they could, often carrying some of the smaller children themselves. Paul +and Long Jim were the best as comforters. The two knew how, each in his +own way, to soothe and encourage. Carpenter, who knew the way to Fort +Penn, led doggedly on, scarcely saying a word. Henry, Shif'less Sol, and +Tom were the rear guard, which was, in this case, the one of greatest +danger and responsibility. + +Henry was thankful that it was only early summer the Fourth of July, +the second anniversary of the Declaration of Independence-and that the +foliage was heavy and green on the slopes of the mountain. In this +mass of greenery the desolate column was now completely hidden from any +observer in the valley, and he believed that other crowds of fugitives +would be hidden in the same manner. He felt sure that no living human +being would be left in the valley, that it would be ravaged from end to +end and then left to desolation, until new people, protected by American +bayonets, should come in and settle it again. + +At last they passed the crest of the ridge, and the fires in the valley, +those emblems of destruction, were hidden. Between them and Fort Penn, +sixty miles away, stretched a wilderness of mountain, forest, and swamp. +But the five welcomed the forest. A foe might lie there in ambush, but +they could not see the fugitives at a distance. What the latter needed +now was obscurity, the green blanket of the forest to hide them. +Carpenter led on over a narrow trail; the others followed almost in +single file now, while the five scouted in the woods on either flank and +at the rear. Henry and Shif'less Sol generally kept together, and they +fully realized the overwhelming danger should an Indian band, even as +small as ten or a dozen warriors, appear. Should the latter scatter, +it would be impossible to protect all the women and children from their +tomahawks. + +The day was warm, but the forest gave them coolness as well as shelter. +Henry and Sol were seldom so far back that they could not see the end +of the melancholy line, now moving slowly, overborne by weariness. The +shiftless one shook his head sadly. + +“No matter what happens, some uv 'em will never get out o' these woods.” + +His words came true all too soon. Before the afternoon closed, two +women, ill before the flight, died of terror and exhaustion, and were +buried in shallow graves under the trees. Before dark a halt was made at +the suggestion of Henry, and all except Carpenter and the scouts sat in +a close, drooping group. Many of the children cried, though the women +had all ceased to weep. They had some food with them, taken in the +hurried flight, and now the men asked them to eat. Few could do it, and +others insisted on saving what little they had for the children. Long +Jim found a spring near by, and all drank at it. + +The six men decided that, although night had not yet come, it would be +best to remain there until the morning. Evidently the fugitives were in +no condition, either mental or physical, to go farther that day, and the +rest was worth more than the risk. + +When this decision was announced to them, most of the women took it +apathetically. Soon they lay down upon a blanket, if one was to be had; +otherwise, on leaves and branches. Again Henry thanked God that it was +summer, and that these were people of the frontier, who could sleep in +the open. No fire was needed, and, outside of human enemies, only rain +was to be dreaded. + +And yet this band, desperate though its case, was more fortunate than +some of the others that fled from the Wyoming Valley. It had now to +protect it six men Henry and Paul, though boys in years, were men in +strength and ability--five of whom were the equals of any frontiersmen +on the whole border. Another crowd of women was escorted by a single man +throughout its entire flight. + +Henry and his comrades distributed themselves in a circle about the +group. At times they helped gather whortleberries as food for the +others, but they looked for Indians or game, intending to shoot in +either case. When Paul and Henry were together they once heard a light +sound in a thicket, which at first they were afraid was made by an +Indian scout, but it was a deer, and it bounded away too soon for either +to get a shot. They could not find other game of any kind, and they came +back toward the camp-if a mere stop in the woods, without shelter of any +kind, could be called a camp. + +The sun was now setting, blood red. It tinged the forest with a fiery +mist, reminding the unhappy group of all that they had seen. But the +mist was gone in a few moments, and then the blackness of night came +with a weird moaning wind that told of desolation. Most of the children, +having passed through every phase of exhaustion and terror, had fallen +asleep. Some of the women slept, also, and others wept. But the terrible +wailing note, which the nerves of no man could stand, was heard no +longer. + +The five gathered again at a point near by, and Carpenter came to them. + +“Men,” he said simply, “don't know much about you, though I know you +fought well in the battle that we lost, but for what you're doin' now +nobody can ever repay you. I knew that I never could get across the +mountains with all these weak ones.” + +The five merely said that any man who was a man would help at such a +time. Then they resumed their march in a perpetual circle about the +camp. + +Some women did not sleep at all that night. It is not easy to conceive +what the frontier women of America endured so many thousands of times. +They had seen their husbands, brothers, and sons killed in the battle, +and they knew that the worst of torture had been practiced in the Indian +camp. Many of them really did not want to live any longer. They merely +struggled automatically for life. The darkness settled down thicker and +thicker; the blackness in the forest was intense, and they could see the +faces of one another only at a little distance. The desolate moan of the +wind came through the leaves, and, although it was July, the night grew +cold. The women crept closer together, trying to cover up and protect +the children. The wind, with its inexpressibly mournful note, was +exactly fitted to their feelings. Many of them wondered why a Supreme +Being had permitted such things. But they ceased to talk. No sound at +all came from the group, and any one fifty yards away, not forewarned, +could not have told that they were there. + +Henry and Paul met again about midnight, and sat a long time on a +little hillock. Theirs had been the most dangerous of lives on the most +dangerous of frontiers, but they had never been stirred as they were +tonight. Even Paul, the mildest of the five, felt something burning +within him, a fire that only one thing could quench. + +“Henry,” said he, “we're trying to get these people to Fort Penn, and +we may get some of them there, but I don't think our work will be ended +them. I don't think I could ever be happy again if we went straight from +Fort Penn to Kentucky.” + +Henry understood him perfectly. + +“No, Paul,” he said, “I don't want to go, either, and I know the others +don't. Maybe you are not willing to tell why we want to stay, but it is +vengeance. I know it's Christian to forgive your enemies, but I can't +see what I have seen, and hear what I have heard, and do it.” + +“When the news of these things spreads,” said Paul, “they'll send an +army from the east. Sooner or later they'll just have to do it to punish +the Iroquois and their white allies, and we've got to be here to join +that army.” + +“I feel that way, too, Paul,” said Henry. + +They were joined later by the other three, who stayed a little while, +and they were in accord with Henry and Paul. + +Then they began their circles about the camp again, always looking and +always listening. About two o'clock in the morning they heard a scream, +but it was only the cry of a panther. Before day there were clouds, a +low rumble of distant thunder, and faint far flashes of lightning. Henry +was in dread of rain, but the lightning and thunder ceased, and the +clouds went away. Then dawn came, rosy and bright, and all but three +rose from the earth. The three-one woman and two children-had died in +silence in the night, and they were buried, like the others, in shallow +graves in the woods. But there was little weeping or external mourning +over them. All were now heavy and apathetic, capable of but little more +emotion. + +Carpenter resumed his position at the head of the column, which now +moved slowly over the mountain through a thick forest matted with +vines and bushes and without a path. The march was now so painful +and difficult that they did not make more than two miles an hour. The +stronger of them helped the men to gather more whortleberries, as it was +easy to see that the food they had with them would never last until they +reached Fort Penn, should they ever reach it. + +The condition of the country into which they had entered steadily grew +worse. They were well into the mountains, a region exceedingly wild and +rough, but little known to the settlers, who had gone around it to build +homes in the fertile and beautiful valley of Wyoming. The heavy forest +was made all the more difficult by the presence everywhere of almost +impassable undergrowth. Now and then a woman lay down under the bushes, +and in two cases they died there because the power to live was no longer +in them. They grew weaker and weaker. The food that they had brought +from the Wyoming fort was almost exhausted, and the wild whortleberries +were far from sustaining. Fortunately there was plenty of water +flowing tinder the dark woods and along the mountainside. But they were +compelled to stop at intervals of an hour or two to rest, and the more +timid continually expected Indian ambush. + +The five met shortly after noon and took another reckoning of the +situation. They still realized to the full the dangers of Indian +pursuit, which in this case might be a mere matter of accident. Anybody +could follow the broad trail left by the fugitives, but the Iroquois, +busy with destruction in the valley, might not follow, even if they +saw it. No one could tell. The danger of starvation or of death from +exhaustion was more imminent, more pressing, and the five resolved to +let scouting alone for the rest of the day and seek game. + +“There's bound to be a lot of it in these woods,” said Shif'less Sol, +“though it's frightened out of the path by our big crowd, but we ought +to find it.” + +Henry and Shif'less Sol went in one direction, and Paul, Tom, and Long +Jim in another. But with all their hunting they succeeded in finding +only one little deer, which fell to the rifle of Silent Tom. It made +small enough portions for the supper and breakfast of nearly a hundred +people, but it helped wonderfully, and so did the fires which Henry and +his comrades would now have built, even had they not been needed for the +cooking. They saw that light and warmth, the light and warmth of glowing +coals, would alone rouse life in this desolate band. + +They slept the second night on the ground among the trees, and the next +morning they entered that gloomy region of terrible memory, the Great +Dismal Swamp of the North, known sometimes, to this day, as “The Shades +of Death.” + + + + +CHAPTER XII. THE SHADES OF DEATH + + +“The Shades of Death” is a marsh on a mountain top, the great, wet, and +soggy plain of the Pocono and Broad mountains. When the fugitives from +Wyoming entered it, it was covered with a dense growth of pines, growing +mostly out of dark, murky water, which in its turn was thick with a +growth of moss and aquatic plants. Snakes and all kinds of creeping +things swarmed in the ooze. Bear and panther were numerous. + +Carpenter did not know any way around this terrible region, and they +were compelled to enter it. Henry was again devoutly thankful that +it was summer. In such a situation with winter on top of it only the +hardiest of men could survive. + +But they entered the swamp, Carpenter silent and dogged, still leading. +Henry and his comrades kept close to the crowd. One could not scout in +such a morass, and it proved to be worse than they had feared. The day +turned gray, and it was dark among the trees. The whole place was filled +with gloomy shadows. It was often impossible to judge whether fairly +solid soil or oozy murk lay before them. Often they went down to their +waists. Sometimes the children fell and were dragged up again by the +stronger. Now and then rattle snakes coiled and hissed, and the women +killed them with sticks. Other serpents slipped away in the slime. +Everybody was plastered with mud, and they became mere images of human +beings. + +In the afternoon they reached a sort of oasis in the terrible swamp, +and there they buried two more of their number who had perished from +exhaustion. The rest, save a few, lay upon the ground as if dead. On all +sides of them stretched the pines and the soft black earth. It looked to +the fugitives like a region into which no human beings had ever come, +or ever would come again, and, alas! to most of them like a region from +which no human being would ever emerge. + +Henry sat upon a piece of fallen brushwood near the edge of the morass, +and looked at the fugitives, and his heart sank within him. They were +hardly in the likeness of his own kind, and they seemed practically +lifeless now. Everything was dull, heavy, and dead. The note of the wind +among the leaves was somber. A long black snake slipped from the marshy +grass near his feet and disappeared soundlessly in the water. He was +sick, sick to death at the sight of so much suffering, and the desire +for vengeance, slow, cold, and far more lasting than any hot outburst, +grew within him. A slight noise, and Shif'less Sol stood beside him. + +“Did you hear?” asked the shiftless one, in a significant tone. + +“Hear what?” asked Henry, who had been deep in thought. + +“The wolf howl, just a very little cry, very far away an' under the +horizon, but thar all the same. Listen, thar she goes ag'in!” + +Henry bent his ear and distinctly heard the faint, whining note, and +then it came a third time. + +He looked tip at Shif'less Sol, and his face grew white--but not for +himself. + +“Yes,” said Shif'less Sol. He understood the look. “We are pursued. Them +wolves howlin' are the Iroquois. What do you reckon we're goin' to do, +Henry?” + +“Fight!” replied the youth, with fierce energy. “Beat 'em off!” + +“How?” + +Henry circled the little oasis with the eye of a general, and his plan +came. + +“You'll stand here, where the earth gives a footing,” he said, “you, +Solomon Hyde, as brave a man as I ever saw, and with you will be Paul +Cotter, Tom Ross, Jim Hart, and Henry Ware, old friends of yours. +Carpenter will at once lead the women and children on ahead, and perhaps +they will not hear the battle that is going to be fought here.” + +A smile of approval, slow, but deep and comprehensive, stole over the +face of Solomon Hyde, surnamed, wholly without fitness, the shiftless +one. “It seems to me,” he said, “that I've heard o' them four fellers +you're talkin' about, an' ef I wuz to hunt all over this planet an' them +other planets that Paul tells of, I couldn't find four other fellers +that I'd ez soon have with me.” + +“We've got to stand here to the death,” said Henry. + +“You're shorely right,” said Shif'less Sol. + +The hands of the two comrades met in a grip of steel. + +The other three were called and were told of the plan, which met with +their full approval. Then the news was carried to Carpenter, who quickly +agreed that their course was the wisest. He urged all the fugitives to +their feet, telling them that they must reach another dry place +before night, but they were past asking questions now, and, heavy and +apathetic, they passed on into the swamp. + +Paul watched the last of them disappear among the black bushes and +weeds, and turned back to his friends on the oasis. The five lay down +behind a big fallen pine, and gave their weapons a last look. They +had never been armed better. Their rifles were good, and the fine +double-barreled pistols, formidable weapons, would be a great aid, +especially at close quarters. + +“I take it,” said Tom Ross, “that the Iroquois can't get through at all +unless they come along this way, an' it's the same ez ef we wuz settin' +on solid earth, poppin' em over, while they come sloshin' up to us.” + +“That's exactly it,” said Henry. “We've a natural defense which we can +hold against much greater numbers, and the longer we hold 'em off, the +nearer our people will be to Fort Penn.” + +“I never felt more like fightin' in my life,” said Tom Ross. + +It was a grim utterance, true of them all, although not one among them +was bloodthirsty. + +“Can any of you hear anything?” asked Henry. “Nothin',” replied +Shif'less Sol, after a little wait, “nothin' from the women goin', an' +nothin' from the Iroquois comin'.” + +“We'll just lie close,” said Henry. “This hard spot of ground isn't more +than thirty or forty feet each way, and nobody can get on it without our +knowing it.” + +The others did not reply. All lay motionless upon their sides, with +their shoulders raised a little, in order that they might take instant +aim when the time came. Some rays of the sun penetrated the canopy of +pines, and fell across the brown, determined faces and the lean brown +hands that grasped the long, slender-barreled Kentucky rifles. Another +snake slipped from the ground into the black water and swam away. Some +water animal made a light splash as he, too, swam from the presence of +these strange intruders. Then they beard a sighing sound, as of a +foot drawn from mud, and they knew that the Iroquois were approaching, +savages in war, whatever they might be otherwise, and expecting an easy +prey. Five brown thumbs cocked their rifles, and five brown forefingers +rested upon the triggers. The eyes of woodsmen who seldom missed looked +down the sights. + +The sound of feet in the mud came many times. The enemy was evidently +drawing near. + +“How many do you think are out thar?” whispered Shif'less Sol to Henry. + +“Twenty, at least, it seems to me by the sounds.” “I s'pose the best +thing for us to do is to shoot at the first head we see.” + +“Yes, but we mustn't all fire at the same man.” + +It was suggested that Henry call off the turns of the marksmen, and he +agreed to do so. Shif'less Sol was to fire first. The sounds now ceased. +The Iroquois evidently had some feeling or instinct that they were +approaching an enemy who was to be feared, not weak and unarmed women +and children. + +The five were absolutely motionless, finger on trigger. The American +wilderness had heroes without number. It was Horatius Cocles five times +over, ready to defend the bridge with life. Over the marsh rose the +weird cry of an owl, and some water birds called in lonely fashion. + +Henry judged that the fugitives were now three quarters of a mile away, +out of the sound of rifle shot. He had urged Carpenter to marshal them +on as far as he could. But the silence endured yet a while longer. In +the dull gray light of the somber day and the waning afternoon the marsh +was increasingly dreary and mournful. It seemed that it must always be +the abode of dead or dying things. + +The wet grass, forty yards away, moved a little, and between the boughs +appeared the segment of a hideous dark face, the painted brow, the +savage black eyes, and the hooked nose of the Mohawk. Only Henry saw +it, but with fierce joy-the tortures at Wyoming leaped up before him-he +fired at the painted brow. The Mohawk uttered his death cry and fell +back with a splash into the mud and water of the swamp. A half dozen +bullets were instantly fired at the base of the smoke that came from +Henry's rifle, but the youth and his comrades lay close and were +unharmed. Shif'less Sol and Tom were quick enough to catch glimpses of +brown forms, at which they fired, and the cries coming back told that +they had hit. + +“That's something,” said Henry. “One or two Iroquois at least will not +wear the scalp of white woman or child at their belts.” + +“Wish they'd try to rush us,” said Shif'less Sol. “I never felt so full +of fight in my life before.” + +“They may try it,” said Henry. “I understand that at the big battle of +the Oriskany, farther up in the North, the Iroquois would wait until a +white man behind a tree would fire, then they would rush up and tomahawk +him before he could reload.” + +“They don't know how fast we kin reload,” said Long Jim, “an' they don't +know that we've got these double-barreled pistols, either.” + +“No, they don't,” said Henry, “and it's a great thing for us to have +them. Suppose we spread out a little. So long as we keep them +from getting a lodging on the solid earth we hold them at a great +disadvantage.” + +Henry and Paul moved off a little toward the right, and the others +toward the left. They still had good cover, as fallen timber was +scattered all over the oasis, and they were quite sure that another +attack would be made soon. It came in about fifteen minutes. The +Iroquois suddenly fired a volley at the logs and brush, and when the +five returned the fire, but with more deadly effect, they leaped forward +in the mud and attempted to rush the oasis, tomahawk in hand. + +But the five reloaded so quickly that they were able to send in a second +volley before the foremost of the Iroquois could touch foot on solid +earth. Then the double barreled pistols came into play. The bullets +sent from short range drove back the savages, who were amazed at such +a deadly and continued fire. Henry caught sight of a white face among +these assailants, and he knew it to be that of Braxton Wyatt. Singularly +enough he was not amazed to see it there. Wyatt, sinking deeper and +deeper into savagery and cruelty, was just the one to lead the Iroquois +in such a pursuit. He was a fit match for Walter Butler, the infamous +son of the Indian leader, who was soon to prove himself worse than the +worst of the savages, as Thayendanegea himself has written. + +Henry drew a bead once on Braxton Wyatt-he had no scruples now about +shooting him-but just as he was about to pull the trigger Wyatt darted +behind a bush, and a Seneca instead received the bullet. He also saw +the renegade, Blackstaffe, but he was not able to secure a shot at him, +either. Nevertheless, the Iroquois attack was beaten back. It was a +foregone conclusion that the result would be so, unless the force was +in great numbers. It is likely, also, that the Iroquois at first had +thought only a single man was with the fugitives, not knowing that the +five had joined them later. + +Two of the Iroquois were slain at the very edge of the solid ground, but +their bodies fell back in the slime, and the others, retreating fast for +their lives, could not carry them off. Paul, with a kind of fascinated +horror, watched the dead painted bodies sink deeper. Then one was +entirely gone. The hand of the other alone was left, and then it, too, +was gone. But the five had held the island, and Carpenter was leading +the fugitives on toward Fort Penn. They had not only held it, but they +believed that they could continue to hold it against anything, and their +hearts became exultant. Something, too, to balance against the long +score, lay out there in the swamp, and all the five, bitter over +Wyoming, were sorry that Braxton Wyatt was not among them. + +The stillness came again. The sun did not break through the heavy gray +sky, and the somber shadows brooded over “The Shades of Death.” They +heard again the splash of water animals, and a swimming snake passed on +the murky surface. Then they heard the wolf's long cry, and the long cry +of wolf replying. + +“More Iroquois coming,” said Shif'less Sol. “Well, we gave them a pretty +warm how d'ye do, an' with our rifles and double-barreled pistols I'm +thinkin' that we kin do it ag'in.” + +“We can, except in one case,” said Henry, “if the new party brings their +numbers up to fifty or sixty, and they wait for night, they can surround +us in the darkness. Perhaps it would be better for us to slip away when +twilight comes. Carpenter and the train have a long lead now.” + +“Yes,” said Shif'less Sol, “Now, what in tarnation is that?” + +“A white flag,” said Paul. A piece of cloth that had once been white had +been hoisted on the barrel of a rifle at a point about sixty yards away. + +“They want a talk with us,” said Henry. + +“If it's Braxton Wyatt,” said Long Jim, “I'd like to take a shot at him, +talk or no talk, an' ef I missed, then take another.” + +“We'll see what they have to say,” said Henry, and he called aloud: +“What do you want with us?” + +“To talk with you,” replied a clear, full voice, not that of Braxton +Wyatt. + +“Very well,” replied Henry, “show yourself and we will not fire upon +you.” + +A tall figure was upraised upon a grassy hummock, and the hands were +held aloft in sign of peace. It was a splendid figure, at least six feet +four inches in height. At that moment some rays of the setting sun broke +through the gray clouds and shone full upon it, lighting up the defiant +scalp lock interwoven with the brilliant red feather, the eagle face +with the curved Roman beak, and the mighty shoulders and chest of red +bronze. It was a genuine king of the wilderness, none other than the +mighty Timmendiquas himself, the great White Lightning of the Wyandots. + +“Ware,” he said, “I would speak with you. Let us talk as one chief to +another.” + +The five were amazed. Timmendiquas there! They were quite sure that he +had come up with the second force, and he was certain to prove a far +more formidable leader than either Braxton Wyatt or Moses Blackstaffe. +But his demand to speak with Henry Ware might mean something. + +“Are you going to answer him?” said Shif'less Sol. + +“Of course,” replied Henry. + +“The others, especially Wyatt and Blackstaffe, might shoot.” + +“Not while Timmendiquas holds the flag of truce; they would not dare.” + +Henry stood up, raising himself to his full height. The same ruddy +sunlight piercing the somber gray of the clouds fell upon another +splendid figure, a boy only in years, but far beyond the average height +of man, his hair yellow, his eyes a deep, clear blue, his body clothed +in buckskin, and his whole attitude that of one without fear. The two, +the white and the red, kings of their kind, confronted each other across +the marsh. + +“What do you wish with me, Timmendiquas?” asked Henry. In the presence +of the great Wyandot chief the feeling of hate and revenge that had held +his heart vanished. He knew that Paul and Shif'less Sol would have sunk +under the ruthless tomahawk of Queen Esther, if it had not been for +White Lightning. He himself had owed him his life on another and more +distant occasion, and he was not ungrateful. So there was warmth in his +tone when he spoke. + +“Let us meet at the edge of the solid ground,” said Timmendiquas, “I +have things to say that are important and that you will be glad to +hear.” + +Henry walked without hesitation to the edge of the swamp, and the +young chief, coming forward, met him. Henry held out his hand in white +fashion, and the young chief took it. There was no sound either from the +swamp or from those who lay behind the logs on the island, but some of +the eyes of those hidden in the swamps watched both with burning hatred. + +“I wish to tell you, Ware,” said Timmendiquas, speaking with the dignity +becoming a great chief, “that it was not I who led the pursuit of the +white men's women and children. I, and the Wyandots who came with me, +fought as best we could in the great battle, and I will slay my enemies +when I can. We are warriors, and we are ready to face each other in +battle, but we do not seek to kill the squaw in the tepee or the papoose +in its birch-bark cradle.” + +The face of the great chief seemed stirred by some deep emotion, which +impressed Henry all the more because the countenance of Timmendiquas was +usually a mask. + +“I believe that you tell the truth,” said Henry gravely. + +“I and my Wyandots,” continued the chief, “followed a trail through +the woods. We found that others, Senecas and Mohawks, led by Wyatt and +Blackstaffe, who are of your race, had gone before, and when we came up +there had just been a battle. The Mohawks and Senecas had been driven +back. It was then we learned that the trail was made by women and little +children, save you and your comrades who stayed to fight and protect +them.” + +“You speak true words, Timmendiquas,” said Henry. + +“The Wyandots have remained in the East to fight men, not to kill squaws +and papooses,” continued Timmendiquas. “So I say to you, go on with +those who flee across the mountains. Our warriors shall not pursue you +any longer. We will turn back to the valley from which we come, and +those of your race, Blackstaffe and Wyatt, shall go with us.” + +The great chief spoke quietly, but there was an edge to his tone that +told that every word was meant. Henry felt a glow of admiration. The +true greatness of Timmendiquas spoke. + +“And the Iroquois?” he said, “will they go back with you?” + +“They will. They have killed too much. Today all the white people in the +valley are killed or driven away. Many scalps have been taken, those +of women and children, too, and men have died at the stake. I have +felt shame for their deeds, Ware, and it will bring punishment upon my +brethren, the Iroquois. It will make so great a noise in the world that +many soldiers will come, and the villages of the Iroquois will cease to +be.” + +“I think it is so, Timmendiquas,” said Henry. “But you will be far away +then in your own land.” + +The chief drew himself up a little. + +“I shall remain with the Iroquois,” he said. “I have promised to help +them, and I must do so.” + +“I can't blame you for that,” said Henry, “but I am glad that you do +not seek the scalps of women and children. We are at once enemies and +friends, Timmendiquas.” + +White Lightning bowed gravely. He and Henry touched hands again, and +each withdrew, the chief into the morass, while Henry walked back toward +his comrades, holding himself erect, as if no enemy were near. + +The four rose up to greet him. They had heard part of what was said, and +Henry quickly told them the rest. + +“He's shorely a great chief,” said Shif'less Sol. “He'll keep his word, +too. Them people on ahead ain't got anything more to fear from pursuit.” + +“He's a statesman, too,” said Henry. “He sees what damage the deeds of +Wyoming Valley will do to those who have done them. He thinks our people +will now send a great army against the Iroquois, and I think so, too.” + +“No nation can stand a thing like that,” said Paul, “and I didn't dream +it could happen.” + +They now left the oasis, and went swiftly along the trail left by the +fugitives. All of them had confidence in the word of Timmendiquas. There +was a remote chance that some other band had entered the swamp at a +different point, but it was remote, indeed, and it did not trouble them +much. + +Night was now over the great swamp. The sun no longer came through the +gray clouds, but here and there were little flashes of flame made by +fireflies. Had not the trail been so broad and deep it could easily have +been lost, but, being what it was, the skilled eyes of the frontiersmen +followed it without trouble. + +“Some uv 'em are gittin' pow'ful tired,” said Tom Ross, looking at +the tracks in the mud. Then he suddenly added: “Here's whar one's quit +forever.” + +A shallow grave, not an hour old, had been made under some bushes, +and its length indicated that a woman lay there. They passed it by +in silence. Henry now appreciated more fully than ever the mercy of +Timmendiquas. The five and Carpenter could not possibly have protected +the miserable fugitives against the great chief, with fifty Wyandots and +Iroquois at his back. Timmendiquas knew this, and he had done what none +of the Indians or white allies around him would have done. + +In another hour they saw a man standing among some vines, but watchful, +and with his rifle in the hollow of his arm. It was Carpenter, a man +whose task was not less than that of the five. They were in the thick +of it and could see what was done, but he had to lead on and wait. He +counted the dusk figures as they approached him, one, two, three, four, +five, and perhaps no man ever felt greater relief. He advanced toward +them and said huskily: + +“There was no fight! They did not attack!” + +“There was a fight,” said Henry, “and we beat them back; then a second +and a larger force came up, but it was composed chiefly of Wyandots, led +by their great chief, Timmendiquas. He came forward and said that they +would not pursue women and children, and that we could go in safety.” + +Carpenter looked incredulous. + +“It is true,” said Henry, “every word of it.” + +“It is more than Brant would have done,” said Carpenter, “and it saves +us, with your help.” + +“You were first, and the first credit is yours, Mr. Carpenter,” said +Henry sincerely. + +They did not tell the women and children of the fight at the oasis, +but they spread the news that there would be no more pursuit, and many +drooping spirits revived. They spent another day in the Great Dismal +Swamp, where more lives were lost. On the day after their emergence +from the marsh, Henry and his comrades killed two deer, which furnished +greatly needed food, and on the day after that, excepting those who had +died by the way, they reached Fort Penn, where they were received into +shelter and safety. + +The night before the fugitives reached Fort Penn, the Iroquois began the +celebration of the Thanksgiving Dance for their great victory and the +many scalps taken at Wyoming. They could not recall another time when +they had secured so many of these hideous trophies, and they were drunk +with the joy of victory. Many of the Tories, some in their own clothes, +and some painted and dressed like Indians, took part in it. + +According to their ancient and honored custom they held a grand council +to prepare for it. All the leading chiefs were present, Sangerachte, +Hiokatoo, and the others. Braxton Wyatt, Blackstaffe, and other white +men were admitted. After their deliberations a great fire was built in +the center of the camp, the squaws who had followed the army feeding +it with brushwood until it leaped and roared and formed a great red +pyramid. Then the chiefs sat down in a solemn circle at some distance, +and waited. + +Presently the sound of a loud chant was heard, and from the farthest +point of the camp emerged a long line of warriors, hundreds and hundreds +of them, all painted in red and black with horrible designs. They were +naked except the breechcloth and moccasins, and everyone waved aloft a +tomahawk as he sang. + +Still singing and brandishing the tomahawks, which gleamed in the +red light, the long procession entered the open space, and danced and +wheeled about the great fire, the flames casting a lurid light upon +faces hideous with paint or the intoxication of triumph. The glare of +their black eyes was like those of Eastern eaters of hasheesh or opium, +and they bounded to and fro as if their muscles were springs of steel. +They sang: + + We have met the Bostonians [*] in battle, + We slew them with our rifles and tomahawks. + Few there are who escaped our warriors. + Ever-victorious is the League of the Ho-de-no-sau-nee. + + [* Note: All the Americans were often called Bostonians by + the Indians as late as the Revolutionary War.] + + Mighty has been our taking of scalps, + They will fill all the lodges of the Iroquois. + We have burned the houses of the Bostonians. + Ever-victorious is the League of the Ho-de-no-sau-nee. + + The wolf will prowl in their corn-fields, + The grass will grow where their blood has soaked; + Their bones will lie for the buzzard to pick. + Ever-victorious is the League of the Ho-de-no-sau-nee. + + We came upon them by river and forest; + As we smote Wyoming we will smite the others, + We will drive the Bostonians back to the sea. + Ever-victorious is the League of the Ho-de-no-sau-nee. + + +The monotonous chant with the refrain, “Ever-victorious is the League of +the Ho-de-no-sau-nee,” went on for many verses. Meanwhile the old squaws +never ceased to feed the bonfire, and the flames roared, casting a +deeper and more vivid light over the distorted faces of the dancers and +those of the chiefs, who sat gravely beyond. + +Higher and higher leaped the warriors. They seemed unconscious of +fatigue, and the glare in their eyes became that of maniacs. Their whole +souls were possessed by the orgy. Beads of sweat, not of exhaustion, but +of emotional excitement, appeared upon their faces and naked bodies, and +the red and black paint streaked together horribly. + +For a long time this went on, and then the warriors ceased suddenly to +sing, although they continued their dance. A moment later a cry which +thrilled every nerve came from a far point in the dark background. +It was the scalp yell, the most terrible of all Indian cries, long, +high-pitched, and quavering, having in it something of the barking howl +of the wolf and the fiendish shriek of a murderous maniac. The warriors +instantly took it up, and gave it back in a gigantic chorus. + +A ghastly figure bounded into the circle of the firelight. It was that +of a woman, middle-aged, tall and powerful, naked to the waist, her body +covered with red and black paint, her long black hair hanging in a loose +cloud down her back. She held a fresh scalp, taken from a white head, +aloft in either band. It was Catharine Montour, and it was she who had +first emitted the scalp yell. After her came more warriors, all bearing +scalps. The scalp yell was supposed to be uttered for every scalp taken, +and, as they had taken more than three hundred, it did not cease for +hours, penetrating every part of the forest. All the time Catharine +Montour led the dance. None bounded higher than she. None grimaced more +horribly. + +While they danced, six men, with their hands tied behind them and black +caps on their heads, were brought forth and paraded around amid hoots +and yells and brandishing of tomahawks in their faces. They were the +surviving prisoners, and the black caps meant that they were to be +killed and scalped on the morrow. Stupefied by all through which they +had gone, they were scarcely conscious now. + +Midnight came. The Iroquois still danced and sang, and the calm stars +looked down upon the savage and awful scene. Now the dancers began to +weary. Many dropped unconscious, and the others danced about them where +they lay. After a while all ceased. Then the chiefs brought forth a +white dog, which Hiokatoo killed and threw on the embers of the fire. +When it was thoroughly roasted, the chiefs cut it in pieces and ate it. +Thus closed the Festival of Thanksgiving for the victory of Wyoming. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. A FOREST PAGE + + +When the survivors of the band of Wyoming fugitives that the five had +helped were behind the walls of Fort Penn, securing the food and rest +they needed so greatly, Henry Ware and his comrades felt themselves +relieved of a great responsibility. They were also aware how much they +owed to Timmendiquas, because few of the Indians and renegades would +have been so forbearing. Thayendanegea seemed to them inferior to +the great Wyandot. Often when Brant could prevent the torture of the +prisoners and the slaughter of women and children, he did not do it. +The five could never forget these things in after life, when Brant was +glorified as a great warrior and leader. Their minds always turned to +Timmendiquas as the highest and finest of Indian types. + +While they were at Fort Penn two other parties came, in a fearful state +of exhaustion, and also having paid the usual toll of death on the way. +Other groups reached the Moravian towns, where they were received with +all kindness by the German settlers. The five were able to give some +help to several of these parties, but the beautiful Wyoming Valley lay +utterly in ruins. The ruthless fury of the savages and of many of the +Tories, Canadians, and Englishmen, can scarcely be told. Everything was +slaughtered or burned. As a habitation of human beings or of anything +pertaining to human beings, the valley for a time ceased to be. An +entire population was either annihilated or driven out, and finally +Butler's army, finding that nothing more was left to be destroyed, +gathered in its war parties and marched northward with a vast store +of spoils, in which scalps were conspicuous. When they repassed Tioga +Point, Timmendiquas and his Wyandots were still with them. Thayendanegea +was also with them here, and so was Walter Butler, who was destined +shortly to make a reputation equaling that of his father, “Indian” + Butler. Nor had the terrible Queen Esther ever left them. She marched +at the head of the army, singing, horrid chants of victory, and swinging +the great war tomahawk, which did not often leave her hand. + +The whole force was re-embarked upon the Susquehanna, and it was still +full of the impulse of savage triumph. Wild Indian songs floated along +the stream or through the meadows, which were quiet now. They advanced +at their ease, knowing that there was nobody to attack them, but they +were watched by five woodsmen, two of whom were boys. Meanwhile the +story of Wyoming, to an extent that neither Indians nor woodsmen +themselves suspected, was spreading from town to town in the East, to +invade thence the whole civilized world, and to stir up an indignation +and horror that would make the name Wyoming long memorable. Wyoming +had been a victory for the flag under which the invaders fought, but it +sadly tarnished the cause of that flag, and the consequences were to be +seen soon. + +Henry Ware, Paul Cotter, Sol Hyde, Tom Ross, and Jim Hart were thinking +little of distant consequences, but they were eager for the present +punishment of these men who had committed so much cruelty. From the +bushes they could easily follow the canoes, and could recognize some of +their occupants. In one of the rear boats sat Braxton Wyatt and a young +man whom they knew to be Walter Butler, a pallid young man, animated by +the most savage ferocity against the patriots. He and Wyatt seemed to +be on the best of terms, and faint echoes of their laughter came to the +five who were watching among the bushes on the river bank. Certainly +Braxton Wyatt and he were a pair well met. + +“Henry,” said Shif'less Sol longingly, “I think I could jest about reach +Braxton Wyatt with a bullet from here. I ain't over fond o' shootin' +from ambush, but I done got over all scruples so fur ez he's concerned. +Jest one bullet, one little bullet, Henry, an' ef I miss I won't ask fur +a second chance.” + +“No, Sol, it won't do,” said Henry. “They'd get off to hunt us. The +whole fleet would be stopped, and we want 'em to go on as fast as +possible.” + +“I s'pose you're right, Henry,” said the shiftless one sadly, “but +I'd jest like to try it once. I'd give a month's good huntin' for that +single trial.” + +After watching the British-Indian fleet passing up the river, they +turned back to the site of the Wyoming fort and the houses near it. Here +everything had been destroyed. It was about dusk when they approached +the battlefield, and they heard a dreadful howling, chiefly that of +wolves. + +“I think we'd better turn away,” said Henry. “We couldn't do anything +with so many.” + +They agreed with him, and, going back, followed the Indians up the +Susquehanna. A light rain fell that night, but they slept under a little +shed, once attached to a house which had been destroyed by fire. In some +way the shed had escaped the flames, and it now came into timely use. +The five, cunning in forest practice, drew up brush on the sides, and +half-burned timber also, and, spreading their blankets on ashes which +had not long been cold, lay well sheltered from the drizzling rain, +although they did not sleep for a long time. + +It was the hottest period of the year in America, but the night had come +on cool, and the rain made it cooler. The five, profiting by experience, +often carried with them two light blankets instead of one heavy one. +With one blanket beneath the body they could keep warmer in case the +weather was cold. + +Now they lay in a row against the standing wall of the old outhouse, +protected by a six- or seven-foot slant of board roof. They had eaten +of a deer that they had shot in the morning, and they had a sense +of comfort and rest that none of them had known before in many days. +Henry's feelings were much like those that he had experienced when he +lay in the bushes in the little canoe, wrapped up from the storm and +hidden from the Iroquois. But here there was an important increase +of pleasure, the pattering of the rain on the board roof, a pleasant, +soothing sound to which millions of boys, many of them afterwards great +men, have listened in America. + +It grew very dark about them, and the pleasant patter, almost musical +in its rhythm, kept up. Not much wind was blowing, and it, too, was +melodious. Henry lay with his head on a little heap of ashes, which +was covered by his under blanket, and, for the first time since he had +brought the warning to Wyoming, he was free from all feeling of danger. +The picture itself of the battle, the defeat, the massacre, the torture, +and of the savage Queen Esther cleaving the heads of the captives, was +at times as vivid as ever, and perhaps would always return now and then +in its original true colors, but the periods between, when youth, hope, +and strength had their way, grew longer and longer. + +Now Henry's eyelids sank lower and lower. Physical comfort and the +presence of his comrades caused a deep satisfaction that permeated his +whole being. The light wind mingled pleasantly with the soft summer +rain. The sound of the two grew strangely melodious, almost piercingly +sweet, and then it seemed to be human. They sang together, the wind and +rain, among the leaves, and the note that reached his heart, rather than +his ear, thrilled him with courage and hope. Once more the invisible +voice that had upborne him in the great valley of the Ohio told him, +even here in the ruined valley of Wyoming, that what was lost would be +regained. The chords ended, and the echoes, amazingly clear, floated far +away in the darkness and rain. Henry roused himself, and came from the +imaginative borderland. He stirred a little, and said in a quiet voice +to Shif'less Sol: + +“Did you hear anything, Sol?” + +“Nothin' but the wind an' the rain.” + +Henry knew that such would be the answer. + +“I guess you didn't hear anything either, Henry,” continued the +shiftless one, “'cause it looked to me that you wuz 'bout ez near sleep +ez a feller could be without bein' ackshooally so.” + +“I was drifting away,” said Henry. + +He was beginning to realize that he had a great power, or rather gift. +Paul was the sensitive, imaginative boy, seeing everything in brilliant +colors, a great builder of castles, not all of air, but Henry's gift +went deeper. It was the power to evoke the actual living picture of +the event that bad not yet occurred, something akin in its nature +to prophecy, based perhaps upon the wonderful power of observation, +inherited doubtless, from countless primitive ancestors. The finest +product of the wilderness, he saw in that wilderness many things that +others did not see, and unconsciously he drew his conclusions from +superior knowledge. + +The song had ceased a full ten minutes, and then came another note, a +howl almost plaintive, but, nevertheless, weird and full of ferocity. +All knew it at once. They had heard the cry of wolves too often in their +lives, but this had an uncommon note like the yell of the Indian in +victory. Again the cry arose, nearer, haunting, and powerful. The five, +used to the darkness, could see one another's faces, and the look that +all gave was the same, full of understanding and repulsion. + +“It has been a great day for the wolf in this valley,” whispered Paul, +“and striking our trail they think they are going to find what they have +been finding in such plenty before.” + +“Yes,” nodded Henry, “but do you remember that time when in the house +we took the place of the man, his wife and children, just before the +Indians came?” + +“Yes,” said Paul. + +“We'll treat them wolves the same way,” said Shif'less Sol. + +“I'm glad of the chance,” said Long Jim. + +“Me, too,” said Tom Ross. + +The five rose up to sitting positions against the board wall, and +everyone held across his knees a long, slender barreled rifle, with the +muzzle pointing toward the forest. All accomplished marksmen, it would +only be a matter of a moment for the stock to leap to the shoulder, the +eye to glance down the barrel, the finger to pull the trigger, and the +unerring bullet to leap forth. + +“Henry, you give the word as usual,” said Shif'less Sol. + +Henry nodded. + +Presently in the darkness they heard the pattering of light feet, and +they saw many gleaming eyes draw near. There must have been at least +thirty of the wolves, and the five figures that they saw reclining, +silent and motionless, against the unburned portion of the house might +well have been those of the dead and scalped, whom they had found in +such numbers everywhere. They drew near in a semicircular group, its +concave front extended toward the fire, the greatest wolves at the +center. Despite many feastings, the wolves were hungry again. Nothing +had opposed them before, but caution was instinctive. The big gray +leaders did not mind the night or the wind or the rain, which they +had known all their lives, and which they counted as nothing, but they +always had involuntary suspicion of human figures, whether living or +not, and they approached slowly, wrinkling back their noses and sniffing +the wind which blew from them instead of the five figures. But their +confidence increased as they advanced. They had found many such burned +houses as this, but they had found nothing among the ruins except what +they wished. + +The big leaders advanced more boldly, glaring straight at the human +figures, a slight froth on their lips, the lips themselves curling +back farther from the strong white teeth. The outer ends of the concave +semicircle also drew in. The whole pack was about to spring upon its +unresisting prey, and it is, no doubt, true that many a wolfish pulse +beat a little higher in anticipation. With a suddenness as startling + figures raised themselves, five long, dark tubes leaped to their +shoulders, and with a suddenness that was yet more terrifying, a gush +of flame shot from five muzzles. Five of the wolves-and they were the +biggest and the boldest, the leaders-fell dead upon the ashes of the +charred timbers, and the others, howling their terror to the dark, +skies, fled deep into the forest. + +Henry strode over and pushed the body of the largest wolf with his foot. + +“I suppose we only gratified a kind of sentiment in shooting those +wolves,” he said, “but I for one am glad we did it.” + +“So am I,” said Paul. + +“Me, too,” said the other three together. + +They went back to their positions near the wall, and one by one fell +asleep. No more wolves howled that night anywhere near them. + +When the five awakened the next morning the rain had ceased, and a +splendid sun was tinting a blue sky with gold. Jim Hart built a fire +among the blackened logs, and cooked venison. They had also brought from +Fort Penn a little coffee, which Long Jim carried with a small coffee +pot in his camp kit, and everyone had a small tin cup. He made coffee +for them, an uncommon wilderness luxury, in which they could rarely +indulge, and they were heartened and strengthened by it. + +Then they went again up the valley, as beautiful as ever, with its +silver river in the center, and its green mountain walls on either side. +But the beauty was for the eye only. It did not reach the hearts of +those who had seen it before. All of the five loved the wilderness, but +they felt now how tragic silence and desolation could be where human +life and all the daily ways of human life had been. + +It was mid-summer, but the wilderness was already reclaiming its own. +The game knew that man was gone, and it had come back into the valley. +Deer ate what had grown in the fields and gardens, and the wolves were +everywhere. The whole black tragedy was written for miles. They were +never out of sight of some trace of it, and their anger grew again as +they advanced in the blackened path of the victorious Indians. + +It was their purpose now to hang on the Indian flank as scouts and +skirmishers, until an American army was formed for a campaign against +the Iroquois, which they were sure must be conducted sooner or later. +Meanwhile they could be of great aid, gathering news of the Indian +plans, and, when that army of which they dreamed should finally march, +they could help it most of all by warning it of ambush, the Indian's +deadliest weapon. + +Everyone of the five had already perceived a fact which was manifest in +all wars with the Indians along the whole border from North to South, +as it steadily shifted farther West. The practical hunter and scout was +always more than a match for the Indian, man for man, but, when the raw +levies of settlers were hastily gathered to stem invasion, they were +invariably at a great disadvantage. They were likely to be caught in +ambush by overwhelming numbers, and to be cut down, as had just happened +at Wyoming. The same fate might attend an invasion of the Iroquois +country, even by a large army of regular troops, and Henry and his +comrades resolved upon doing their utmost to prevent it. An army needed +eyes, and it could have none better than those five pairs. So they went +swiftly up the valley and northward and eastward, into the country of +the Iroquois. They had a plan of approaching the upper Mohawk village +of Canajoharie, where one account says that Thayendanegea was born, +although another credits his birthplace to the upper banks of the Ohio. + +They turned now from the valley to the deep woods. The trail showed +that the great Indian force, after disembarking again, split into large +parties, everyone loaded with spoil and bound for its home village. The +five noted several of the trails, but one of them consumed the whole +attention of Silent Tom Ross. + +He saw in the soft soil near a creek bank the footsteps of about eight +Indians, and, mingled with them, other footsteps, which he took to be +those of a white woman and of several children, captives, as even a +tyro would infer. The soul of Tom, the good, honest, and inarticulate +frontiersman, stirred within him. A white woman and her children being +carried off to savagery, to be lost forevermore to their kind! Tom, +still inarticulate, felt his heart pierced with sadness at the tale that +the tracks in the soft mud told so plainly. But despair was not the only +emotion in his heart. The silent and brave man meant to act. + +“Henry,” he said, “see these tracks here in the soft spot by the creek.” + +The young leader read the forest page, and it told him exactly the same +tale that it had told Tom Ross. + +“About a day old, I think,” he said. + +“Just about,” said Tom; “an' I reckon, Henry, you know what's in my +mind.” + +“I think I do,” said Henry, “and we ought to overtake them by to-morrow +night. You tell the others, Tom.” + +Tom informed Shif'less Sol, Paul, and Long Jim in a few words, receiving +from everyone a glad assent, and then the five followed fast on the +trail. They knew that the Indians could not go very fast, as their speed +must be that of the slowest, namely, that of the children, and it seemed +likely that Henry's prediction of overtaking them on the following night +would come true. + +It was an easy trail. Here and there were tiny fragments of cloth, +caught by a bush from the dress of a captive. In one place they saw a +fragment of a child's shoe that had been dropped off and abandoned. Paul +picked up the worn piece of leather and examined it. + +“I think it was worn by a girl,” he said, “and, judging from its size, +she could not have been more than eight years old. Think of a child like +that being made to walk five or six hundred miles through these woods!” + +“Younger ones still have had to do it,” said Shif'less Sol gravely, “an' +them that couldn't-well, the tomahawk.” + +The trail was leading them toward the Seneca country, and they had no +doubt that the Indians were Senecas, who had been more numerous than +any others of the Six Nations at the Wyoming battle. They came that +afternoon to a camp fire beside which the warriors and captives had +slept the night before. + +“They ate bar meat an' wild turkey,” said Long Jim, looking at some +bones on the ground. + +“An' here,” said Tom Ross, “on this pile uv bushes is whar the women an' +children slept, an' on the other side uv the fire is whar the warriors +lay anywhars. You can still see how the bodies uv some uv 'cm crushed +down the grass an' little bushes.” + +“An' I'm thinkin',” said Shif'less Sol, as he looked at the trail that +led away from the camp fire, “that some o' them little ones wuz gittin' +pow'ful tired. Look how these here little trails are wobblin' about.” + +“Hope we kin come up afore the Injuns begin to draw thar tomahawks,” + said Tom Ross. + +The others were silent, but they knew the dreadful significance of Tom's +remark, and Henry glanced at them all, one by one. + +“It's the greatest danger to be feared,” he said, “and we must overtake +them in the night when they are not suspecting. If we attack by day they +will tomahawk the captives the very first thing.” + +“Shorely,', said the shiftless one. + +“Then,” said Henry, “we don't need to hurry. We'll go on until about +midnight, and then sleep until sunrise.” + +They continued at a fair pace along a trail that frontiersmen far less +skillful than they could have followed. But a silent dread was in the +heart of every one of them. As they saw the path of the small feet +staggering more and more they feared to behold some terrible object +beside the path. + +“The trail of the littlest child is gone,” suddenly announced Paul. + +“Yes,” said Henry, “but the mother has picked it up and is carrying it. +See how her trail has suddenly grown more uneven.” + +“Poor woman,” said Paul. “Henry, we're just bound to overtake that +band.” + +“We'll do it,” said Henry. + +At the appointed time they sank down among the thickest bushes that they +could find, and slept until the first upshot of dawn. Then they resumed +the trail, haunted always by that fear of finding something terrible +beside it. But it was a trail that continually grew slower. The Indians +themselves were tired, or, feeling safe from pursuit, saw no need of +hurry. By and by the trail of the smallest child reappeared. + +“It feels a lot better now,” said Tom Ross. “So do I.” + +They came to another camp fire, at which the ashes were not yet cold. +Feathers were scattered about, indicating that the Indians had taken +time for a little side hunt, and had shot some birds. + +“They can't be more than two or three hours ahead,” said Henry, “and +we'll have to go on now very cautiously.” + +They were in a country of high hills, well covered with forests, a +region suited to an ambush, which they feared but little on their own +account; but, for the sake of extreme caution, they now advanced slowly. +The afternoon was long and warm, but an hour before sunset they looked +over a hill into a glade, and saw the warriors making camp for the +night. + +The sight they beheld made the pulses of the five throb heavily. The +Indians had already built their fire, and two of them were cooking +venison upon it. Others were lying on the grass, apparently resting, +but a little to one side sat a woman, still young and of large, strong +figure, though now apparently in the last stages of exhaustion, with her +feet showing through the fragments of shoes that she wore. Her head was +bare, and her dress was in strips. Four children lay beside her' the +youngest two with their heads in her lap. The other two, who might be +eleven and thirteen each, had pillowed their heads on their arms, and +lay in the dull apathy that comes from the finish of both strength +and hope. The woman's face was pitiful. She had more to fear than the +children, and she knew it. She was so worn that the skin hung loosely on +her face, and her eyes showed despair only. The sad spectacle was almost +more than Paul could stand. + +“I don't like to shoot from ambush,” he said, “but we could cut down +half of those warriors at our firs fire and rush in on the rest.” + +“And those we didn't cut down at our first volley would tomahawk the +woman and children in an instant,” replied Henry. “We agreed, you know, +that it would be sure to happen. We can't do anything until night comes, +and then we've got to be mighty cautious.” + +Paul could not dispute the truth of his words, and they withdrew +carefully to the crest of a hill, where they lay in the undergrowth, +watching the Indians complete their fire and their preparations for the +night. It was evident to Henry that they considered themselves perfectly +safe. Certainly they had every reason for thinking so. It was not likely +that white enemies were within a hundred miles of them, and, if so, it +could only be a wandering hunter or two, who would flee from this fierce +band of Senecas who bad taken revenge for the great losses that they' +had suffered the year before at the Oriskany. + +They kept very little watch and built only a small fire, just enough +for broiling deer meat which they carried. They drank at a little spring +which ran from under a ledge near them, and gave portions of the meat to +the woman and children. After the woman had eaten, they bound her hands, +and she lay back on the grass, about twenty feet from the camp fire. Two +children lay on either side of her, and they were soon sound asleep. The +warriors, as Indians will do when they are free from danger and care, +talked a good deal, and showed all the signs of having what was to them +a luxurious time. They ate plentifully, lolled on the grass, and looked +at some hideous trophies, the scalps that they carried at their belts. +The woman could not keep from seeing these, too, but her face did not +change from its stony aspect of despair. Then the light of the fire went +out, the sun sank behind the mountains, and the five could no longer see +the little group of captives and captors. + +They still waited, although eagerness and impatience were tugging at the +hearts of every one of them. But they must give the Indians time to +fall asleep if they would secure rescue, and not merely revenge. They +remained in the bushes, saying but little and eating of venison that +they carried in their knapsacks. + +They let a full three hours pass, and the night remained dark, but +with a faint moon showing. Then they descended slowly into the valley, +approaching by cautious degrees the spot where they knew the Indian camp +lay. This work required at least three quarters of an hour, and they +reached a point where they could see the embers of the fire and the dark +figures lying about it. The Indians, their suspicions lulled, had put +out no sentinels, and all were asleep. But the five knew that, at the +first shot, they would be as wide awake as if they had never slept, and +as formidable as tigers. Their problem seemed as great as ever. So they +lay in the bushes and held a whispered conference. + +“It's this,” said Henry. “We want to save the woman and the children +from the tomahawks, and to do so we must get them out of range of the +blade before the battle begins.” “How?” said Tom Ross. + +“I've got to slip up, release the woman, arm her, tell her to run for +the woods with the children, and then you four must do the most of the +rest.” + +“Do you think you can do it, Henry?” asked Shif'less Sol. + +“I can, as I will soon show you. I'm going to steal forward to the woman, +but the moment you four hear an alarm open with your rifles and pistols. +You can come a little nearer without being heard.” + +All of them moved up close to the Indian camp, and lay hidden in the +last fringe of bushes except Henry. He lay almost flat upon the ground, +carrying his rifle parallel with his side, and in his right hand. He +was undertaking one of the severest and most dangerous tests known to +a frontiersman. He meant to crawl into the very midst of a camp of the +Iroquois, composed of the most alert woodsmen in the world, men who +would spring up at the slightest crackle in the brush. Woodmen who, +warned by some sixth sense, would awaken at the mere fact of a strange +presence. + +The four who remained behind in the bushes could not keep their hearts +from beating louder and faster. They knew the tremendous risk undertaken +by their comrade, but there was not one of them who would have shirked +it, had not all yielded it to the one whom they knew to be the best +fitted for the task. + +Henry crept forward silently, bringing to his aid all the years of skill +that he had acquired in his life in the wilds. His body was like that +of a serpent, going forward, coil by coil. He was near enough now to see +the embers of the fire not yet quite dead, the dark figures scattered +about it, sleeping upon the grass with the long ease of custom, and then +the outline of the woman apart from the others with the children about +her. Henry now lay entirely flat, and his motions were genuinely those +of a serpent. It was by a sort of contraction and relaxation of the body +that he moved himself, and his progress was absolutely soundless. + +The object of his advance was the woman. He saw by the faint light of +the moon that she was not yet asleep. Her face, worn and weather beaten, +was upturned to the skies, and the stony look of despair seemed to have +settled there forever. She lay upon some pine boughs, and her hands were +tied behind her for the night with deerskin. + +Henry contorted himself on, inch by inch, for all the world like a great +snake. Now he passed the sleeping Senecas, hideous with war paint, and +came closer to the woman. She was not paying attention to anything about +her, but was merely looking up at the pale, cold stars, as if everything +in the world had ceased for her. + +Henry crept a little nearer. He made a slight noise, as of a lizard +running through the grass, but the woman took no notice. He crept +closer, and there he lay flat upon the grass within six feet of her, +his figure merely a slightly darker blur against the dark blur of the +earth. Then, trusting to the woman's courage and strength of mind, he +emitted a hiss very soft and low, like the warning of a serpent, half in +fear and half in anger. + +The woman moved a little, and looked toward the point from which the +sound had come. It might have been the formidable hiss of a coiling +rattlesnake that she heard, but she felt no fear. She was too much +stunned, too near exhaustion to be alarmed by anything, and she did +not look a second time. She merely settled back on the pine boughs, and +again looked dully up at the pale, cold stars that cared so little for +her or hers. + +Henry crept another yard nearer, and then he uttered that low noise, +sibilant and warning, which the woman, the product of the border, knew +to be made by a human being. She raised herself a little, although it +was difficult with her bound hands to sit upright, and saw a dark shadow +approaching her. That dark shadow she knew to be the figure of a man. An +Indian would not be approaching in such a manner, and she looked again, +startled into a sudden acute attention, and into a belief that the +incredible, the impossible, was about to happen. A voice came from the +figure, and its quality was that of the white voice, not the red. + +“Do not move,” said that incredible voice out of the unknown. “I have +come for your rescue, and others who have come for the same purpose are +near. Turn on one side, and I will cut the bonds that hold your arms.” + +The voice, the white voice, was like the touch of fire to Mary Newton. +A sudden fierce desire for life and for the lives of her four children +awoke within her just when hope had gone the call to life came. She +had never heard before a voice so full of cheer and encouragement. It +penetrated her whole being. Exhaustion and despair fled away. + +“Turn a little on your side,” said the voice. + +She turned obediently, and then felt the sharp edge of cold steel as it +swept between her wrists and cut the thongs that held them together. Her +arms fell apart, and strength permeated every vein of her being. + +“We shall attack in a few moments,” said the voice, “but at the first +shots the Senecas will try to tomahawk you and your children. Hold out +your hands.” + +She held out both hands obediently. The handle of a tomahawk was pressed +into one, and the muzzle of a double-barreled pistol into the other. +Strength flowed down each hand into her body. + +“If the time comes, use them; you are strong, and you know how,” said +the voice. Then she saw the dark figure creeping away. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. THE PURSUIT ON THE RIVER + + +The story of the frontier is filled with heroines, from the far days +of Hannah Dustin down to the present, and Mary Newton, whom the unknown +figure in the dark had just aroused, is one of them. It had seemed to +her that God himself had deserted her, but at the last moment he had +sent some one. She did not doubt, she could not doubt, because the bonds +had been severed, and there she lay with a deadly weapon in either hand. +The friendly stranger who had come so silently was gone as he had come, +but she was not helpless now. Like many another frontier woman, she +was naturally lithe and powerful, and, stirred by a great hope, all her +strength had returned for the present. + +Nobody who lives in the wilderness can wholly escape superstition, +and Mary Newton began to believe that some supernatural creature had +intervened in her behalf. She raised herself just a little on one elbow +and surveyed the surrounding thicket. She saw only the dead embers of +the fire, and the dark forms of the Indians lying upon the bare ground. +Had it not been for the knife and pistol in her hand, she could have +believed that the voice was only a dream. + +There was a slight rustling in the thicket, and a Seneca rose quickly +to his knees, grasping his rifle in both hands. The woman's fingers +clutched the knife and pistol more tightly, and her whole gaunt figure +trembled. The Seneca listened only a moment. Then he gave a sharp cry, +and all the other warriors sprang up. But three of them rose only +to fall again, as the rifles cracked in the bushes, while two others +staggered from wounds. + +The triumphant shout of the frontiersmen came from the thicket, and then +they rushed upon the camp. Quick as a flash two of the Senecas started +toward the woman and children with their tomahawks, but Mary Newton was +ready. Her heart had leaped at the shots when the Senecas fell, and +she kept her courage. Now she sprang to her full height, and, with the +children screaming at her feet, fired one barrel of the pistol directly +into the face of the first warrior, and served the second in the same +way with the other barrel when he was less than four feet away. Then, +tomahawk in hand, she rushed forward. In judging Mary Newton, one must +consider time and place. + +But happily there was no need for her to use her tomahawk. As the five +rushed in, four of them emptied their double-barreled pistols, while +Henry swung his clubbed rifle with terrible effect. It was too much +for the Senecas. The apparition of the armed woman, whom they had left +bound, and the deadly fire from the five figures that sprang upon them, +was like a blow from the hand of Aieroski. The unhurt and wounded fled +deep into the forest, leaving their dead behind. Mary Newton, her great +deed done, collapsed from emotion and weakness. The screams of the +children sank in a few moments to frightened whimpers. But the oldest, +when they saw the white faces, knew that rescue had come. + +Paul brought water from the brook in his cap, and Mary Newton was +revived; Jim was reassuring the children, and the other three were in +the thickets, watching lest the surviving Senecas return for attack. + +“I don't know who you are, but I think the good God himself must have +sent you to our rescue,” said Mary Newton reverently. + +“We don't know,” said Paul, “but we are doing the best we can. Do you +think you can walk now?” + +“Away from the savages? Yes!” she said passionately. She looked down at +the dead figures of the Senecas, and she did not feel a single trace of +pity for them. Again it is necessary to consider time and place. + +“Some of my strength came back while I was lying here,” she said, “and +much more of it when you drove away the Indians.” + +“Very well,” said Henry, who had returned to the dead camp fire with +his comrades, “we must start on the back trail at once. The surviving +Senecas, joined by other Iroquois, will certainly pursue, and we need +all the start that we can get.” + +Long Jim picked up one of the two younger children and flung him over +his shoulder; Tom Ross did as much for the other, but the older two +scorned help. They were full of admiration for the great woodsmen, +mighty heroes who had suddenly appeared out of the air, as it were, +and who had swept like a tornado over the Seneca band. It did not seem +possible now that they, could be retaken. + +But Mary Newton, with her strength and courage, had also recovered her +forethought. + +“Maybe it will not be better to go on the back trail,” she said. “One +of the Senecas told me to-day that six or seven miles farther on was a +river flowing into the Susquehanna, and that they would cross this river +on a boat now concealed among bushes on the bank. The crossing was at a +sudden drop between high banks. Might not we go on, find the boat, and +come back in it down the river and into the Susquehanna?” + +“That sounds mighty close to wisdom to me,” said Shif'less Sol. +“Besides, it's likely to have the advantage o' throwin' the Iroquois off +our track. They'll think, o' course, that we've gone straight back, an' +we'll pass 'em ez we're going forward.” + +“It's certainly the best plan,” said Henry, “and it's worth our while +to try for that hidden boat of the Iroquois. Do you know the general +direction?” + +“Almost due north.” + +“Then we'll make a curve to the right, in order to avoid any Iroquois +who may be returning to this camp, and push for it.” + +Henry led the way over hilly, rough ground, and the others followed in a +silent file, Long Jim and Tom still carrying the two smallest children, +who soon fell asleep on their shoulders. Henry did not believe that the +returning Iroquois could follow their trail on such a dark night, and +the others agreed with him. + +After a while they saw the gleam of water. Henry knew that it must be +very near, or it would have been wholly invisible on such a dark night. + +“I think, Mrs. Newton,” he said, “that this is the river of which you +spoke, and the cliffs seem to drop down just as you said they would.” + +The woman smiled. + +“Yes,” she said, “you've done well with my poor guess, and the boat must +be hidden somewhere near here.” + +Then she sank down with exhaustion, and the two older children, unable +to walk farther, sank down beside her. But the two who slept soundly on +the shoulders of Long Jim and Tom Ross did not awaken. Henry motioned +to Jim and Tom to remain there, and Shif'less Sol bent upon them a +quizzical and approving look. + +“Didn't think it was in you, Jim Hart, you old horny-handed galoot,” he +said, “carryin' a baby that tender. Knew Jim could sling a little black +bar 'roun' by the tail, but I didn't think you'd take to nussin' so +easy.” + +“I'd luv you to know, Sol Hyde,” said Jim Hart in a tone of high +condescension, “that Tom Ross an' me are civilized human bein's. In face +uv danger we are ez brave ez forty thousand lions, but with the little +an' the weak we're as easy an' kind an' soft ez human bein's are ever +made to be.” + +“You're right, old hoss,” said Tom Ross. + +“Well,” said the shiftless one, “I can't argify with you now, ez the +general hez called on his colonel, which is me, an' his major, which is +Paul, to find him a nice new boat like one o' them barges o' Clepatry +that Paul tells about, all solid silver, with red silk sails an' gold +oars, an' we're meanin' to do it.” + +Fortune was with them, and in a quarter of an hour they discovered, deep +among bushes growing in the shallow water, a large, well-made boat with +two pairs of oars and with small supplies of parched corn and venison +hidden in it. + +“Good luck an' bad luck come mixed,” said the shift-less one, “an' this +is shorely one o' our pieces o' good luck. The woman an' the children +are clean tuckered out, an' without this boat we could never hev got +them back. Now it's jest a question o' rowin' an' fightin'.” + +“Paul and I will pull her out to the edge of the clear water,” said +Henry, “while you can go back and tell the others, Sol.” + +“That just suits a lazy man,” said Sol, and he walked away jauntily. +Under his apparent frivolity he concealed his joy at the find, which he +knew to be of such vast importance. He approached the dusky group, and +his really tender heart was stirred with pity for the rescued captives. +Long Jim and Silent Tom held the smaller two on their shoulders, but +the older ones and the woman, also, had fallen asleep. Sol, in order to +conceal his emotion, strode up rather roughly. Mary Newton awoke. + +“Did you find anything?” she asked. + +“Find anything?” repeated Shif'less Sol. “Well, Long Jim an' Tom +here might never hev found anything, but Henry an' Paul an' me, three +eddicated men, scholars, I might say, wuz jest natcherally bound to find +it whether it wuz thar or not. Yes, we've unearthed what Paul would call +an argosy, the grandest craft that ever floated on this here creek, +that I never saw before, an' that I don't know the name uv. She's bein' +floated out now, an' I, the Gran' Hidalgo an' Majordomo, hev come to +tell the princes and princesses, an' the dukes and dukesses, an' all the +other gran' an' mighty passengers, that the barge o' the Dog o' Venice +is in the stream, an' the Dog, which is Henry Ware, is waitin', settin' +on the Pup to welcome ye.” + +“Sol,” said Long Jim, “you do talk a power uv foolishness, with your +Dogs an' Pups.” + +“It ain't foolishness,” rejoined the shiftless one. “I heard Paul read +it out o' a book oncet, plain ez day. They've been ruled by Dogs at +Venice for more than a thousand years, an' on big 'casions the Dog comes +down a canal in a golden barge, settin' on the Pup. I'll admit it 'pears +strange to me, too, but who are you an' me, Jim Hart, to question the +ways of foreign countries, thousands o' miles on the other side o' the +sea?” + +“They've found the boat,” said Tom Ross, “an' that's enough!” + +“Is it really true?” asked Mrs. Newton. + +“It is,” replied Shif'less Sol, “an' Henry an' Paul are in it, waitin' +fur us. We're thinkin', Mrs. Newton, that the roughest part of your trip +is over.” + +In another five minutes all were in the boat, which was a really fine +one, and they were delighted. Mary Newton for the first time broke down +and wept, and no one disturbed her. The five spread the blankets on the +bottom of the boat, where the children soon went to sleep once more, and +Tom Ross and Shif'less Sol took the oars. + +“Back in a boat ag'in,” said the shiftless one exultantly. “Makes me +feel like old times. My fav'rite mode o' travelin' when Jim Hart, 'stead +o' me, is at the oars.” + +“Which is most o' the time,” said Long Jim. + +It was indeed a wonderful change to these people worn by the wilderness. +They lay at ease now, while two pairs of powerful arms, with scarcely an +effort, propelled the boat along the stream. The woman herself lay down +on the blankets and fell asleep with the children. Henry at the prow, +Tom Ross at the stern, and Paul amidships watched in silence, but with +their rifles across their knees. They knew that the danger was far from +over. Other Indians were likely to use this stream, unknown to them, as +a highway, and those who survived of their original captors could pick +up their trail by daylight. And the Senecas, being mad for revenge, +would surely get help and follow. Henry believed that the theory of +returning toward the Wyoming Valley was sound. That region had been so +thoroughly ravaged now that all the Indians would be going northward. +If they could float down a day or so without molestation, they would +probably be safe. The creek, or, rather, little river, broadened, +flowing with a smooth, fairly swift current. The forest on either side +was dense with oak, hickory, maple, and other splendid trees, often +with a growth of underbrush. The three riflemen never ceased to watch +intently. Henry always looked ahead. It would have been difficult for +any ambushed marksman to have escaped his notice. But nothing occurred +to disturb them. Once a deer came down to drink, and fled away at sight +of the phantom boat gliding almost without noise on the still waters. +Once the far scream of a panther came from the woods, but Mary Newton +and her children, sleeping soundly, did not hear it. The five themselves +knew the nature of the sound, and paid no attention. The boat went +steadily on, the three riflemen never changing their position, and soon +the day began to come. Little arrows of golden light pierced through the +foliage of the trees, and sparkled on the surface of the water. In the +cast the red sun was coming from his nightly trip. Henry looked down at +the sleepers. They were overpowered by exhaustion, and would not awake +of their own accord for a long time. + +Shif'less Sol caught his look. + +“Why not let 'em sleep on?” he said. + +Then he and Jim Hart took the oars, and the shiftless one and Tom Ross +resumed their rifles. The day was coming fast, and the whole forest was +soon transfused with light. + +No one of the five had slept during the night. They did not feel the +need of sleep, and they were upborne, too, by a great exaltation. They +had saved the prisoners thus far from a horrible fate, and they were +firmly resolved to reach, with them, some strong settlement and safety. +They felt, too, a sense of exultation over Brant, Sangerachte, Hiokatoo, +the Butlers, the Johnsons, Wyatt, and all the crew that had committed +such terrible devastation in the Wyoming Valley and elsewhere. + +The full day clothed the earth in a light that turned from silver to +gold, and the woman and the children still slept. The five chewed some +strips of venison, and looked rather lugubriously at the pieces they +were saving for Mary Newton and the children. + +“We ought to hev more'n that,” said Shif'less Sol. “Ef the worst comes to +the worst, we've got to land somewhar an' shoot a deer.” + +“But not yet,” said Henry in a whisper, lest he wake the sleepers. “I +think we'll come into the Susquehanna pretty soon, and its width will be +a good thing for us. I wish we were there now. I don't like this narrow +stream. Its narrowness affords too good an ambush.” + +“Anyway, the creek is broadenin' out fast,” said the shiftless one, +“an' that is a good sign. What's that you see ahead, Henry--ain't it a +river?” + +“It surely is,” replied Henry, who caught sight of a broad expanse of +water, “and it's the Susquehanna. Pull hard, Sol! In five more minutes +we'll be in the river.” + +It was less than five when they turned into the current of the +Susquehanna, and less than five more when they heard a shout behind +them, and saw at least a dozen canoes following. The canoes were filled +with Indians and Tories, and they had spied the fugitives. + +“Keep the women and the children down, Paul,” cried Henry. + +All knew that Henry and Shif'less Sol were the best shots, and, without +a word, Long Jim and Tom, both powerful and skilled watermen, swung +heavily on the oars, while Henry and Shif'less Sol sat in the rear with +their rifles ready. Mary Newton awoke with a cry at the sound of the +shots, and started to rise, but Paul pushed her down. + +“We're on the Susquehanna now, Mrs. Newton,” he said, “and we are +pursued. The Indians and Tories have just seen us, but don't be afraid. +The two who are watching there are the best shots in the world.” + +He looked significantly at Henry and Shif'less Sol, crouching in the +stern of the boat like great warriors from some mighty past, kings of +the forest whom no one could overcome, and her courage came back. The +children, too, had awakened with frightened cries, but she and Paul +quickly soothed them, and, obedient to commands, the four, and Mary +Newton with them, lay flat upon the bottom of the boat, which was now +being sent forward rapidly by Jim Hart and Tom. Paul took up his rifle +and sat in a waiting attitude, either to relieve one of the men at the +oars or to shoot if necessary. + +The clear sun made forest and river vivid in its light. The Indians, +after their first cry, made no sound, but so powerful were Long Jim +and Tom that they were gaining but little, although some of the boats +contained six or eight rowers. + +As the light grew more intense Henry made out the two white faces in the +first boat. One was that of Braxton Wyatt, and the other, he was quite +sure, belonged to the infamous Walter Butler. Hot anger swept through +all his veins, and the little pulses in his temples began to beat like +trip hammers. Now the picture of Wyoming, the battle, the massacre, +the torture, and Queen Esther wielding her great tomahawk on the bound +captives, grew astonishingly vivid, and it was printed blood red on his +brain. The spirit of anger and defiance, of a desire to taunt those who +had done such things, leaped up in his heart. + +“Are you there, Braxton Wyatt?” he called clearly across the intervening +water. “Yes, I see that it is you, murderer of women and children, +champion of the fire and stake, as savage as any of the savages. And +it is you, too, Walter Butler, wickeder son of a wicked father. Come a +little closer, won't you? We've messengers here for both of you!” + +He tapped lightly the barrel of his own rifle and that of Shif'less Sol, +and repeated his request that they come a little closer. + +They understood his words, and they understood, also, the significant +gesture when he patted the barrel of the rifles. The hearts of both +Butler and Wyatt were for the moment afraid, and their boat dropped back +to third place. Henry laughed aloud when he saw. The Viking rage was +still upon him. This was the primeval wilderness, and these were no +common foes. + +“I see that you don't want to receive our little messengers,” he cried. +“Why have you dropped back to third place in the line, Braxton Wyatt and +Walter Butler, when you were first only a moment ago? Are you cowards as +well as murderers of women and children?” + +“That's pow'ful good talk,” said Shif'less Sol admiringly. “Henry, +you're a real orator. Give it to 'em, an' mebbe I'll get a chance at one +o' them renegades.” + +It seemed that Henry's words had an effect, because the boat of the +renegades pulled up somewhat, although it did not regain first place. +Thus the chase proceeded down the Susquehanna. + +The Indian fleet was gaining a little, and Shif'less Sol called Henry's +attention to it. + +“Don't you think I'd better take a shot at one o' them rowers in the +first boat?” he said to Henry. “Wyatt an' Butler are a leetle too fur +away.” + +“I think it would give them a good hint, Sol!” said Henry. “Take that +fellow on the right who is pulling so hard.” + +The shiftless one raised his rifle, lingered but a little over his aim, +and pulled the trigger. The rower whom Henry had pointed out fell back +in the boat, his hands slipping from the handles of his oars. The boat +was thrown into confusion, and dropped back in the race. Scattering +shots were fired in return, but all fell short, the water spurting up in +little jets where they struck. + +Henry, who had caught something of the Indian nature in his long stay +among them in the northwest, laughed in loud irony. + +“That was one of our little messengers, and it found a listener!” + he shouted. “And I see that you are afraid, Braxton Wyatt and Walter +Butler, murderers of women and children! Why don't you keep your proper +places in the front?” + +“That's the way to talk to 'em,” whispered Shif'less Sol, as he +reloaded. “Keep it up, an' mebbe we kin git a chance at Braxton Wyatt +hisself. Since Wyoming I'd never think o' missin' sech a chance.” + +“Nor I, either,” said Henry, and he resumed in his powerful tones: “The +place of a leader is in front, isn't it? Then why don't you come up?” + +Braxton Wyatt and Walter Butler did not come up. They were not lacking +in courage, but Wyatt knew what deadly marksmen the fugitive boat +contained, and he had also told Butler. So they still hung back, +although they raged at Henry Ware's taunts, and permitted the Mohawks +and Senecas to take the lead in the chase. + +“They're not going to give us a chance,” said Henry. “I'm satisfied +of that. They'll let redskins receive our bullets, though just now +I'd rather it were the two white ones. What do you think, Sol, of that +leading boat? Shouldn't we give another hint?” + +“I agree with you, Henry,” said the shiftless one. “They're comin' +much too close fur people that ain't properly interduced to us. This +promiskus way o' meetin' up with strangers an' lettin' 'em talk to you +jest ez ef they'd knowed you all their lives hez got to be stopped. It's +your time, Henry, to give 'em a polite hint, an' I jest suggest that you +take the big fellow in the front o' the boat who looks like a Mohawk.” + +Henry raised his rifle, fired, and the Mohawk would row no more. Again +confusion prevailed in the pursuing fleet, and there was a decline of +enthusiasm. Braxton Wyatt and Walter Butler raged and swore, but, as +they showed no great zeal for the lead themselves, the Iroquois did not +gain on the fugitive boat. They, too, were fast learning that the two +who crouched there with their rifles ready were among the deadliest +marksmen in existence. They fired a dozen shots, perhaps, but their +rifles did not have the long range of the Kentucky weapons, and again +the bullets fell short, causing little jets of water to spring up. + +“They won't come any nearer, at least not for the present,” said Henry, +“but will hang back just out of rifle range, waiting for some chance to +help them.” + +Shif'less Sol looked the other way, down the Susquehanna, and announced +that he could see no danger. There was probably no Indian fleet farther +down the river than the one now pursuing them, and the danger was behind +them, not before. + +Throughout the firing, Silent Tom Ross and Long Jim Hart had not said a +word, but they rowed with a steadiness and power that would have carried +oarsmen of our day to many a victory. Moreover, they had the inducement +not merely of a prize, but of life itself, to row and to row hard. They +had rolled up their sleeves, and the mighty muscles on those arms of +woven steel rose and fell as they sent the boat swiftly with the silver +current of the Susquehanna. + +Mary Newton still lay on the bottom of the boat. The children had cried +out in fright once or twice at the sound of the firing, but she and +Paul bad soothed them and kept them down. Somehow Mary Newton had become +possessed of a great faith. She noticed the skill, speed, and success +with which the five always worked, and, so long given up to despair, +she now went to the other extreme. With such friends as these coming +suddenly out of the void, everything must succeed. She had no doubt of +it, but lay peacefully on the bottom of the boat, not at all disturbed +by the sound of the shots. + +Paul and Sol after a while relieved Long Jim and Tom at the oars. The +Iroquois thought it a chance to creep up again, but they were driven +back by a third bullet, and once more kept their distance. Shif'less +Sol, while he pulled as powerfully as Tom Ross, whose place he had +taken, nevertheless was not silent. + +“I'd like to know the feelin's o' Braxton Wyatt an' that feller Butler,” + he said. “Must be powerful tantalizin' to them to see us here, almost +where they could stretch out their hands an' put 'em on us. Like reachn' +fur ripe, rich fruit, an' failin' to git it by half a finger's length.” + +“They are certainly not pleased,” said Henry, “but this must end some +way or other, you know.” + +“I say so, too, now that I'm a-rowin',” rejoined the shiftless one, +“but when my turn at the oars is finished I wouldn't care. Ez I've said +more'n once before, floatin' down a river with somebody else pullin' at +the oars is the life jest suited to me.” + +Henry looked up. “A summer thunderstorm is coming,” he said, “and from +the look of things it's going to be pretty black. Then's when we must +dodge 'em.” + +He was a good weather prophet. In a half hour the sky began to darken +rapidly. There was a great deal of thunder and lightning, but when +the rain came the air was almost as dark as night. Mary Newton and her +children were covered as much as possible with the blankets, and then +they swung the boat rapidly toward the eastern shore. They had already +lost sight of their pursuers in the darkness, and as they coasted along +the shore they found a large creek flowing into the river from the east. + +They ran up the creek, and were a full mile from its mouth when the +rain ceased. Then the sun came out bright and warm, quickly drying +everything. + +They pulled about ten miles farther, until the creek grew too shallow +for them, when they hid the boat among bushes and took to the land. +Two days later they arrived at a strong fort and settlement, where Mary +Newton and her four children, safe and well, were welcomed by relatives +who had mourned them as dead. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. “THE ALCOVE” + + +They arrived at the fort as evening was coming on, and as soon as food +was served to them the five sought sleep. The frontiersmen usually slept +soundly and for a long time after prodigious exertions, and Henry and +his comrades were too wise to make an exception. They secured a single +room inside the fort, one given to them gladly, because Mary Newton +had already spread the fame of their exploits, and, laying aside their +hunting shirts and leggins, prepared for rest. + +“Jim,” said Shif'less Sol, pointing to a low piece of furniture, flat +and broad, in one corner of the room, “that's a bed. Mebbe you don't +think it, but people lay on top o' that an' sleep thar.” + +Long Jim grinned. + +“Mebbe you're right, Sol,” he said. “I hev seen sech things ez that, an' +mebbe I've slep' on 'em, but in all them gran' old tales Paul tells +us about I never heard uv no big heroes sleepin' in beds. I guess the +ground wuz good 'nough for A-killus, Hector, Richard-Kur-de-Leong, +an' all the rest uv that fightin' crowd, an' ez I'm that sort uv a man +myself I'll jest roll down here on the floor. Bein' as you're tender, +Sol Hyde, an' not used to hard life in the woods, you kin take that bed +yourself, an' in the mornin' your wally will be here with hot water in +a silver mug an' a razor to shave you, an' he'll dress you in a ruffled +red silk shirt an' a blue satin waistcoat, an' green satin breeches jest +comin' to the knee, where they meet yellow silk stockin's risin' out +uv purple satin slippers, an' then he'll clap on your head a big wig +uv snow-white hair, fallin' all about your shoulders an' he'll buckle a +silver sword to your side, an' he'll say: 'Gentlemen, him that hez long +been known ez Shif'less Sol, an' desarvin' the name, but who in reality +is the King o' France, is now before you. Down on your knees an' say +your prayers!'” + +Shif'less Sol stared in astonishment. + +“You say a wally will do all that fur me, Jim? Now, what under the sun +is a wally?” + +“I heard all about 'em from Paul,” replied Long Jim in a tone of intense +satisfaction. “A wally is a man what does fur you what you ought to do +fur yourself.” + +“Then I want one,” said Shif'less Sol emphatically. “He'd jest suit a +lazy man like me. An' ez fur your makin' me the King o' France, mebbe +you're more'n half right about that without knowin' it. I hev all the +instincts uv a king. I like to be waited on, I like to eat when I'm +hungry, I like to drink when I'm thirsty, I like to rest when I'm tired, +an' I like to sleep when I'm sleepy. You've heard o' children changed at +birth by fairies an' sech like. Mebbe I'm the real King o' France, +after all, an' my instincts are handed down to me from a thousand royal +ancestors.” + +“Mebbe it's so,” rejoined Long Jim. “I've heard that thar hev been a +pow'ful lot uv foolish kings.” + +With that he put his two blankets upon the floor, lay down upon them, +and was sound asleep in five minutes. But Shif'less Sol beat him to +slumberland by at least a minute, and the others were not more than two +minutes behind Sol. + +Henry was the first up the next morning. A strong voice shouted in +his ear: “Henry Ware, by all that's glorious,” and a hand pressed his +fingers together in an iron grasp. Henry beheld the tall, thin figure +and smiling brown face of Adam Colfax, with whom he had made that +adventurous journey up the Mississippi and Ohio. + +“And the others?” was the first question of Adam Colfax. + +“They're all here asleep inside. We've been through a lot of things, but +we're as sound as ever.” + +“That's always a safe prediction to make,” said Adam Colfax, smiling. “I +never saw five other human beings with such a capacity for getting out +of danger.” + +“We were all at Wyoming, and we all still live.” + +The face of the New Englander darkened. + +“Wyoming!” he exclaimed. “I cannot hear of it without every vein growing +hot within me.” + +“We saw things done there,” said Henry gravely, “the telling of which few +men can bear to hear.” + +“I know! I know!” exclaimed Adam Colfax. “The news of it has spread +everywhere!” + +“What we want,” said Henry, “is revenge. It is a case in which we must +strike back, and strike hard. If this thing goes on, not a white +life will be safe on the whole border from the St. Lawrence to the +Mississippi.” + +“It is true,” said Adam Colfax, “and we would send an army now against +the Iroquois and their allies, but, Henry, my lad, our fortunes are at +their lowest there in the East, where the big armies are fighting. That +is the reason why nobody has been sent to protect our rear guard, which +has suffered so terribly. You may be sure, too, that the Iroquois will +strike in this region again as often and as hard as they can. I make +more than half a guess that you and your comrades are here because you +know this.” + +He looked shrewdly at the boy. + +“Yes,” said Henry, “that is so. Somehow we were drawn into it, but being +here we are glad to stay. Timmendiquas, the great chief who fought us +so fiercely on the Ohio, is with the Iroquois, with a detachment of his +Wyandots, and while he, as I know, frowns on the Wyoming massacre, he +means to help Thayendanegea to the end.” + +Adam Colfax looked graver than ever. + +“That is bad,” he said. “Timmendiquas is a mighty warrior and leader, +but there is also another way of looking at it. His presence here will +relieve somewhat the pressure on Kentucky. I ought to tell you, Henry, +that we got through safely with our supplies to the Continental army, +and they could not possibly have been more welcome. They arrived just in +time.” + +The others came forth presently and were greeted with the same warmth by +Adam Colfax. + +“It is shore mighty good for the eyes to see you, Mr. Colfax,” said +Shif'less Sol, “an' it's a good sign. Our people won when you were on +the Mississippi an' the Ohio'--an' now that you're here, they're goin' +to win again.” + +“I think we are going to win here and everywhere,” said Adam Colfax, +“but it is not because there is any omen in my presence. It is because +our people will not give up, and because our quarrel is just.” + +The stanch New Englander left on the following day for points farther +east, planning and carrying out some new scheme to aid the patriot +cause, and the five, on the day after that, received a message written +on a piece of paper which was found fastened to a tree on the outskirts +of the settlement. It was addressed to “Henry Ware and Those with Him,” + and it read: + + + “You need not think because you escaped us at Wyoming and on + the Susquehanna that you will ever get back to Kentucky. + There is amighty league now on the whole border between the + Indians and the soldiers of the king. You have seen at + Wyoming what we can do, and you will see at other places and + on a greater scale what we will do. + + “I find my own position perfect. It is true that + Timmendiquas does not like me, but he is not king here. I + am the friend of the great Brant; and Hiokatoo, Sangerachte, + Hahiron, and the other chiefs esteem me. I am thick with + Colonel John Butler, the victor of Wyoming; his son, the + valiant and worthy Walter Butler; Sir John Johnson, Colonel + Guy Johnson, Colonel Daniel Claus, and many other eminent + men and brave soldiers. + + “I write these words, Henry Ware, both to you and your + comrades, to tell you that our cause will prevail over + yours. I do not doubt that when you read this you will try + to escape to Kentucky, but when we have destroyed everything + along the eastern border, as we have at Wyoming, we shall + come to Kentucky, and not a rebel face will be left there. + + “I am sending this to tell you that there is no hole in + which you can hide where we cannot reach you. With my + respects, BRAXTON WYATT.” + +Henry regarded the letter with contempt. + +“A renegade catches something of the Indian nature,” he said, “and +always likes to threaten and boast.” + +But Shif'less Sol was highly indignant. + +“Sometimes I think,” he said, “that the invention o' writin' wuz a +mistake. You kin send a man a letter an' call him names an' talk mighty +big when he's a hundred miles away, but when you've got to stan' up +to him face to face an' say it, wa'al, you change your tune an' sing a +pow'ful sight milder. You ain't gen'ally any roarin' lion then.” + +“I think I'll keep this letter,” said Henry, “an' we five will give an +answer to it later on.” + +He tapped the muzzle of his rifle, and every one of the four gravely +tapped the muzzle of his own rifle after him. It was a significant +action. Nothing more was needed. + +The next morning they bade farewell to the grateful Mary Newton and +her children, and with fresh supplies of food and ammunition, chiefly +ammunition, left the fort, plunging once more into the deep forest. It +was their intention to do as much damage as they could to the Iroquois, +until some great force, capable of dealing with the whole Six Nations, +was assembled. Meanwhile, five redoubtable and determined borderers +could achieve something. + +It was about the first of August, and they were in the midst of the +great heats. But it was a period favoring Indian activity, which was now +at its highest pitch. Since Wyoming, loaded with scalps, flushed with +victory, and aided by the king's men, they felt equal to anything. +Only the strongest of the border settlements could hold them back. The +colonists here were so much reduced, and so little help could be +sent them from the East, that the Iroquois were able to divide into +innumerable small parties and rake the country as with a fine tooth +comb. They never missed a lone farmhouse, and rarely was any fugitive +in the woods able to evade them. And they were constantly fed from the +North with arms, ammunition, rewards for scalps, bounties, and great +promises. + +But toward the close of August the Iroquois began to hear of a silent +and invisible foe, an evil spirit that struck them, and that struck +hard. There were battles of small forces in which sometimes not a single +Iroquois escaped. Captives were retaken in a half-dozen instances, and +the warriors who escaped reported that their assailants were of uncommon +size and power. They had all the cunning of the Indian and more, and +they carried rifles that slew at a range double that of those served to +them at the British posts. It was a certainty that they were guided by +the evil spirit, because every attempt to capture them failed miserably. +No one could find where they slept, unless it was those who never came +back again. + +The Iroquois raged, and so did the Butlers and the Johnsons and Braxton +Wyatt. This was a flaw in their triumph, and the British and Tories saw, +also, that it was beginning to affect the superstitions of their red +allies. Braxton Wyatt made a shrewd guess as to the identity of the +raiders, but he kept quiet. It is likely, also, that Timmendiquas knew, +but be, too, said nothing. So the influence of the raiders grew. While +their acts were great, superstition exaggerated them and their powers +manifold. And it is true that their deeds were extraordinary. They were +heard of on the Susquehanna, then on the Delaware and its branches, on +the Chemung and the Chenango, as far south as Lackawaxen Creek, and as +far north as Oneida Lake. It is likely that nobody ever accomplished +more for a defense than did those five in the waning months of the +summer. Late in September the most significant of all these events +occurred. A party of eight Tories, who had borne a terrible part in +the Wyoming affair, was attacked on the shores of Otsego Lake with such +deadly fierceness that only two escaped alive to the camp of Sir John +Johnson. Brant sent out six war parties, composed of not less than +twenty warriors apiece, to seek revenge, but they found nothing. + +Henry and his comrades had found a remarkable camp at the edge of one of +the beautiful small lakes in which the region abounds. The cliff at that +point was high, but a creek entered into it through a ravine. At the +entrance of the creek into the river they found a deep alcove, or, +rather, cave in the rock. It ran so far back that it afforded ample +shelter from the rain, and that was all they wanted. It was about +halfway between the top and bottom of the cliff, and was difficult of +approach both from below and above. Unless completely surprised-a very +unlikely thing with them-the five could hold it against any force as +long as their provisions lasted. They also built a boat large enough for +five, which they hid among the bushes at the lake's edge. They were thus +provided with a possible means of escape across the water in case of the +last emergency. + +Jim and Paul, who, as usual, filled the role of housekeepers, took great +delight in fitting up this forest home, which the fittingly called “The +Alcove.” The floor of solid stone was almost smooth, and with the aid of +other heavy stones they broke off all projections, until one could walk +over it in the dark in perfect comfort. They hung the walls with +skins of deer which they killed in the adjacent woods, and these walls +furnished many nooks and crannies for the storing of necessities. They +also, with much hard effort, brought many loads of firewood, which Long +Jim was to use for his cooking. He built his little fireplace of stones +so near the mouth of “The Alcove” that the smoke would pass out and be +lost in the thick forest all about. If the wind happened to be blowing +toward the inside of the cave, the smoke, of course, would come in on +them all, but Jim would not be cooking then. + +Nor did their operations cease until they had supplied “The Alcove” + plentifully with food, chiefly jerked deer meat, although there was no +way in which they could store water, and for that they had to take +their chances. But their success, the product of skill and everlasting +caution, was really remarkable. Three times they were trapped within a +few miles of “The Alcove,” but the pursuers invariably went astray on +the hard, rocky ground, and the pursued would also take the precaution +to swim down the creek before climbing up to “The Alcove.” Nobody could +follow a trail in the face of such difficulties. + +It was Henry and Shif'less Sol who were followed the second time, but +they easily shook off their pursuers as the twilight was coming, half +waded, half swam down the creek, and climbed up to “The Alcove,” where +the others were waiting for them with cooked food and clear cold water. +When they had eaten and were refreshed, Shif'less Sol sat at the mouth +of “The Alcove,” where a pleasant breeze entered, despite the foliage +that hid the entrance. The shiftless one was in an especially happy +mood. + +“It's a pow'ful comf'table feelin',” he said, “to set up in a nice safe +place like this, an' feel that the woods is full o' ragin' heathen, +seekin' to devour you, and wonderin' whar you've gone to. Thar's a heap +in knowin' how to pick your home. I've thought more than once 'bout that +old town, Troy, that Paul tells us 'bout, an' I've 'bout made up my mind +that it wuzn't destroyed 'cause Helen eat too many golden apples, but +'cause old King Prime, or whoever built the place, put it down in a +plain. That wuz shore a pow'ful foolish thing. Now, ef he'd built it on +a mountain, with a steep fall-off on every side, thar wouldn't hev been +enough Greeks in all the earth to take it, considerin' the miserable +weepins they used in them times. Why, Hector could hev set tight on the +walls, laughin' at 'em, 'stead o' goin' out in the plain an' gittin' +killed by A-killus, fur which I've always been sorry.” + +“It's 'cause people nowadays have more sense than they did in them +ancient times that Paul tells about,” said Long Jim. “Now, thar wuz +'Lyssus, ten or twelve years gittin' home from Troy. Allus runnin' +his ship on the rocks, hoppin' into trouble with four-legged giants, +one-eyed women, an' sech like. Why didn't he walk home through the +woods, killin' game on the way, an' hevin' the best time he ever knowed? +Then thar wuz the keerlessness of A-killus' ma, dippin' him in that +river so no arrow could enter him, but holdin' him by the heel an' +keepin' it out o' the water, which caused his death the very first time +Paris shot it off with his little bow an' arrer. Why didn't she hev +sense enough to let the heel go under, too. She could hev dragged it out +in two seconds an' no harm done 'ceptin', perhaps, a little more yellin' +on the part of A-killus.” + +“I've always thought Paul hez got mixed 'bout that Paris story,” said +Tom Ross. “I used to think Paris was the name uv a town, not a man, an' +I'm beginnin' to think so ag'in, sence I've been in the East, 'cause I +know now that's whar the French come from.” + +“But Paris was the name of a man,” persisted Paul. “Maybe the French +named their capital after the Paris of the Trojan wars.” + +“Then they showed mighty poor jedgment,” said Shif'less Sol. “Ef I'd +named my capital after any them old fellers, I'd have called it Hector.” + +“You can have danger enough when you're on the tops of hills,” said +Henry, who was sitting near the mouth of the cave. “Come here, you +fellows, and see what's passing down the lake.” + +They looked out, and in the moonlight saw six large war canoes being +rowed slowly down the lake, which, though narrow, was quite long. Each +canoe held about a dozen warriors, and Henry believed that one of them +contained two white faces, evidently those of Braxton Wyatt and Walter +Butler. + +“Like ez not they've been lookin' fur us,” said Tom Ross. + +“Quite likely,” said Henry, “and at the same time they may be engaged in +some general movement. See, they will pass within fifty feet of the base +of the cliff.” + +The five lay on the cave floor, looking through the vines and foliage, +and they felt quite sure that they were in absolute security. The six +long war canoes moved slowly. The moonlight came out more brightly, and +flooded all the bronze faces of the Iroquois. Henry now saw that he was +not mistaken, and that Braxton Wyatt and Walter Butler were really in +the first boat. From the cover of the cliff he could have picked off +either with a rifle bullet, and the temptation was powerful. But he +knew that it would lead to an immediate siege, from which they might not +escape, and which at least would check their activities and plans for a +long time. Similar impulses flitted through the minds of the other four, +but all kept still, although fingers flitted noiselessly along rifle +stocks until they touched triggers. + +The Iroquois war fleet moved slowly on, the two renegades never dreaming +of the danger that had threatened them. An unusually bright ray of +moonshine fell full upon Braxton Wyatt's face as he paused, and Henry's +finger played with the trigger of his rifle. It was hard, very hard, to +let such an opportunity go by, but it must be done. + +The fleet moved steadily down the lake, the canoes keeping close +together. They turned into mere dots upon the water, became smaller and +smaller still, until they vanished in the darkness. + +“I'm thinkin',” said Shif'less Sol, “that thar's some kind uv a movement +on foot. While they may hev been lookin' fur us, it ain't likely that +they'd send sixty warriors or so fur sech a purpose. I heard something +three or four days ago from a hunter about an attack upon the Iroquois +town of Oghwaga.” + +“It's most likely true,” said Henry, “and it seems to me that it's our +business to join that expedition. What do you fellows think?” + +“Just as you do,” they replied with unanimity. + +“Then we leave this place and start in the morning,” said Henry. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. THE FIRST BLOW + + +Summer was now waning, the foliage was taking on its autumn hues, and +Indian war parties still surged over the hills and mountains, but the +five avoided them all. On one or two occasions they would have been +willing to stop and fight, but they had bigger work on hand. They had +received from others confirmation of the report that Long Jim had heard +from the hunters, and they were quite sure that a strong force was +advancing to strike the first blow in revenge for Wyoming. Curiously +enough, this body was commanded by a fourth Butler, Colonel William +Butler, and according to report it was large and its leaders capable. + +When the avenging force lay at the Johnstown settlement on the Delaware, +it was joined by the five. They were introduced to the colonel by the +celebrated scout and hunter, Tini Murphy, whom they had met several +times in the woods, and they were received warmly. + +“I've heard of you,” said Colonel Butler with much warmth, “both from +hunters and scouts, and also from Adam Colfax. Two of you were to have +been tomahawked by Queen Esther at Wyoming.” + +Henry indicated the two. + +“What you saw at Wyoming is not likely to decrease your zeal against the +Indians and their white allies,” continued Colonel Butler. + +“Anyone who was there,” said Henry, “would feel all his life, the desire +to punish those who did it.” + +“I think so, too, from all that I have heard,” continued Colonel Butler. +“It is the business of you young men to keep ahead of our column and +warn us of what lies before us. I believe you have volunteered for that +duty.” + +The five looked over Colonel Butler's little army, which numbered only +two hundred and fifty men, but they were all strong and brave, and it +was the best force that could yet be sent to the harassed border. +It might, after all, strike a blow for Wyoming if it marched into no +ambush, and Henry and his comrades were resolved to guard it from that +greatest of all dangers. + +When the little column moved from the Johnstown settlement, the five +were far ahead, passing through the woods, up the Susquehanna, toward +the Indian villages that lay on its banks, though a great distance above +Wyoming. The chief of these was Oghwaga, and, knowing that it was the +destination of the little army, they were resolved to visit it, or at +least come so near it that they could see what manner of place it was. + +“If it's a big village,” said Colonel Butler, “it will be too strong +to attack, but it may be that most of the warriors are absent on +expeditions.” + +They had obtained before starting very careful descriptions of the +approaches to the village, and toward the close of an October evening +they knew that they were near Oghwaga, the great base of the Iroquois +supplies. They considered it very risky and unwise to approach in the +daytime, and accordingly they lay in the woods until the dark should +come. + +The appearance of the wilderness had changed greatly in the three +months since Wyoming. All the green was now gone, and it was tinted +red and yellow and brown. The skies were a mellow blue, and there was a +slight haze over the forest, but the air had the wonderful crispness and +freshness of the American autumn. It inspired every one of the five with +fresh zeal and energy, because they believed the first blow was about to +be struck. + +About ten o'clock at night they approached Oghwaga, and the reports +of its importance were confirmed. They had not before seen an Indian +village with so many signs of permanence. They passed two or three +orchards of apple and peach trees, and they saw other indications of +cultivation like that of the white farmer. + +“It ain't a bad-lookin' town,” said Long Jim Hart. “But it'll look +wuss,” said Shif'less Sol, “onless they've laid an ambush somewhar. +I don't like to see houses an' sech like go up in fire an' smoke, but +after what wuz done at Wyomin' an' all through that valley, burnin' is a +light thing.” + +“We're bound to strike back with all our might,” said Paul, who had the +softest heart of them all. + +“Now, I wonder who's in this here town,” said Tom Ross. “Mebbe +Timmendiquas an' Brant an' all them renegades.” + +“It may be so,” said Henry. “This is their base and store of supplies. +Oh, if Colonel Butler were only here with all his men, what a rush we +could make!” + +So great was their eagerness that they crept closer to the village, +passing among some thick clusters of grapevines. Henry was in the lead, +and he heard a sudden snarl. A large cur of the kind that infest Indian +villages leaped straight at him. + +The very suddenness of the attack saved Henry and his comrades from the +consequences of an alarm. He dropped his rifle instinctively, and seized +the dog by the throat with both hands. A bark following the snarl had +risen to the animal's throat, but it was cut short there. The hands of +the great youth pressed tighter and tighter, and the dog was lifted from +the earth. The four stood quietly beside their comrade, knowing that no +alarm would be made now. + +The dog kicked convulsively, then hung without motion or noise. Henry +cast the dead body aside, picked up his rifle, and then all five of them +sank softly down in the shelter of the grapevines. About fifteen yards +away an Indian warrior was walking cautiously along and looking among +the vines. Evidently he had heard the snarl of the dog, and was seeking +the cause. But it had been only a single sound, and he would not look +far. Yet the hearts of the five beat a little faster as he prowled among +the vines, and their nerves were tense for action should the need for it +come. + +The Indian, a Mohawk, came within ten yards of them, but he did not see +the five figures among the vines, blending darkly with the dark +growth, and presently, satisfied that the sound he had heard was of no +importance, he walked in another direction, and passed out of sight. + +The five, not daunted at all by this living proof of risk, crept to the +very edge of the clusters of grapevines, and looked upon an open space, +beyond which stood some houses made of wood; but their attention was +centered upon a figure that stood in the open. + +Although the distance was too great and the light too poor to disclose +the features, every one of the scouts recognized the figure. It could be +none other than that of Timmendiquas, the great White Lightning of the +Wyandots. He was pacing back and forth, somewhat in the fashion of the +white man, and his manner implied thought. + +“I could bring him down from here with a bullet,” said Shif'less Sol, +“but I ain't ever goin' to shoot at the chief, Henry.” + +“No,” said Henry, “nor will I. But look, there's another.” + +A second figure came out of the dark and joined the first. It was also +that of a chief, powerful and tall, though not as tall as Timmendiquas. +It was Thayendanegea. Then three white figures appeared. One was that of +Braxton Wyatt, and the others they took to be those of “Indian” Butler +and his son, Walter Butler. After a talk of a minute or two they entered +one of the wooden houses. + +“It's to be a conference of some kind,” whispered Henry. “I wish I could +look in on it.” + +“And I,” said the others together. + +“Well, we know this much,” continued Henry. “No great force of the +Iroquois is present, and if Colonel Butler's men come up quickly, we can +take the town.” + +“It's a chance not to be lost,” said Paul. + +They crept slowly away from the village, not stopping until they reached +the crest of a hill, from which they could see the roofs of two or three +of the Indian houses. + +“I've a feeling in me,” said Paul, “that the place is doomed. We'll +strike the first blow for Wyoming.” + +They neither slept nor rested that night, but retraced their trail with +the utmost speed toward the marching American force, going in Indian +file through the wilderness. Henry, as usual, led; Shif'less Sol +followed, then came Paul, and then Long Jim, while Silent Tom was the +rear guard. They traveled at great speed, and, some time after daylight, +met the advance of the colonial force under Captain William Gray. + +William Gray was a gallant young officer, but he was startled a little +when five figures as silent as phantoms appeared. But he uttered an +exclamation of delight when he recognized the leader, Henry. + +“What have you found?” he asked eagerly. + +“We've been to Oghwaga,” replied the youth, “and we went all about the +town. They do not suspect our coming. At least, they did not know when +we left. We saw Brant, Timmendiquas, the Butlers, and Wyatt enter the +house for a conference.” + +“And now is our chance,” said eager young William Gray. “What if we +should take the town, and with it these men, at one blow.” + +“We can scarcely hope for as much as that,” said Henry, who knew +that men like Timmendiquas and Thayendanegea were not likely to allow +themselves to be seized by so small a force, “but we can hope for a good +victory.” + +The young captain rode quickly back to his comrades with the news, and, +led by the five, the whole force pushed forward with all possible haste. +William Gray was still sanguine of a surprise, but the young riflemen +did not expect it. Indian sentinels were sure to be in the forest +between them and Oghwaga. Yet they said nothing to dash this hope. Henry +had already seen enough to know the immense value of enthusiasm, and +the little army full of zeal would accomplish much if the chance came. +Besides the young captain, William Gray, there was a lieutenant named +Taylor, who had been in the battle at Wyoming, but who had escaped the +massacre. The five had not met him there, but the common share in so +great a tragedy proved a tie between them. Taylor's name was Robert, +but all the other officers, and some of the men for that matter, who +had known him in childhood called him Bob. He was but little older than +Henry, and his earlier youth, before removal to Wyoming, had been passed +in Connecticut, a country that was to the colonials thickly populated +and containing great towns, such as Hartford and New Haven. + +A third close friend whom they soon found was a man unlike any other +that they had ever seen. His name was Cornelius Heemskerk. Holland was +his birthplace, but America was his nation. He was short and extremely +fat, but he had an agility that amazed the five when they first saw it +displayed. He talked much, and his words sounded like grumbles, but +the unctuous tone and the smile that accompanied them indicated to the +contrary. He formed for Shif'less Sol an inexhaustible and entertaining +study in character. + + +“I ain't quite seen his like afore,” said the shiftless one to Paul. +“First time I run acrost him I thought he would tumble down among the +first bushes he met. 'Stead o' that, he sailed right through 'em, makin' +never a trip an' no noise at all, same ez Long Jim's teeth sinkin' into +a juicy venison steak.” + +“I've heard tell,” said Long Jim, who also contemplated the prodigy, +“that big, chunky, awkward-lookin' things are sometimes ez spry ez you. +They say that the Hipperpotamus kin outrun the giraffe across the sands +uv Afriky, an' I know from pussonal experience that the bigger an' +clumsier a b'ar is the faster he kin make you scoot fur your life. But +he's the real Dutch, ain't he, Paul, one uv them fellers that licked the +Spanish under the Duke uv Alivy an' Belisarry?” + +“Undoubtedly,” replied Paul, who did not consider it necessary to +correct Long Jim's history, “and I'm willing to predict to you, Jim +Hart, that Heemskerk will be a mighty good man in any fight that we may +have.” + +Heemskerk rolled up to them. He seemed to have a sort of circular +motion like that of a revolving tube, but he kept pace with the others, +nevertheless, and he showed no signs of exertion. + +“Don't you think it a funny thing that I, Cornelius Heemskerk, am here?” + he said to Paul. + +“Why so, Mr. Heemskerk?” replied Paul politely. “Because I am a +Dutchman. I have the soul of an artist and the gentleness of a baby. I, +Cornelius Heemskerk, should be in the goot leetle country of Holland +in a goot leetle house, by the side of a goot leetle canal, painting +beautiful blue china, dishes, plates, cups, saucers, all most beautiful, +and here I am running through the woods of this vast America, carrying +on my shoulder a rifle that is longer than I am, hunting the red Indian +and hunted by him. Is it not most rediculous, Mynheer Paul?” + +“I think you are here because you are a brave man, Mr. Heemskerk,” + replied Paul, “and wish to see punishment inflicted upon those who have +committed great crimes.” + +“Not so! Not so!” replied the Dutchman with energy. “It is because I am +one big fool. I am not really a big enough man to be as big a fool as I +am, but so it is! so it is!” Shif'less Sol regarded him critically, and +then spoke gravely and with deliberation: “It ain't that, Mr. Heemskerk, +an' Paul ain't told quite all the truth, either. I've heard that the +Dutch was the most powerfullest fightin' leetle nation on the globe; +that all you had to do wuz to step on the toe uv a Dutchman's wooden +shoe, an' all the men, women, an' children in Holland would jump right +on top o' you all at once. Lookin' you up an' lookin' you down, an' +sizin' you up, an' sizin you down, all purty careful, an' examinin' the +corners O' your eyes oncommon close, an' also lookin' at the way you set +your feet when you walk, I'm concludin' that you just natcherally love a +fight, an' that you are lookin' fur one.” + +But Cornelius Heemskerk sighed, and shook his head. + +“It is flattery that you give me, and you are trying to make me brave +when I am not,” he said. “I only say once more that I ought to be in +Holland painting blue plates, and not here in the great woods holding on +to my scalp, first with one hand and then with the other.” + +He sighed deeply, but Solomon Hyde, reader of the hearts of men, only +laughed. + +Colonel Butler's force stopped about three o'clock for food and a little +rest, and the five, who had not slept since the night before, caught +a few winks. But in less than an hour they were up and away again. The +five riflemen were once more well in advance, and with them were Taylor +and Heemskerk, the Dutchman, grumbling over their speed, but revolving +along, nevertheless, with astonishing ease and without any sign of +fatigue. They discovered no indications of Indian scouts or trails, and +as the village now was not many miles away, it confirmed Henry in his +belief that the Iroquois, with their friends, the Wyandots, would not +stay to give battle. If Thayendanegea and Timmendiquas were prepared +for a strong resistance, the bullets of the skirmishers would already be +whistling through the woods. + +The waning evening grew colder, twilight came, and the autumn leaves +fell fast before the rising wind. The promise of the night was dark, +which was not bad for their design, and once more the five-now the seven +approached Oghwaga. From the crest of the very same hill they looked +down once more upon the Indian houses. + +“It is a great base for the Iroquois,” said Henry to Heemskerk, “and +whether the Indians have laid an ambush or not, Colonel Butler must +attack.” + +“Ah,” said Heemskerk, silently moving his round body to a little higher +point for a better view, “now I feel in all its fullness the truth that +I should be back in Holland, painting blue plates.” + +Nevertheless, Cornelius Heemskerk made a very accurate survey of the +Iroquois village, considering the distance and the brevity of the time, +and when the party went back to Colonel Butler to tell him the way was +open, he revolved along as swiftly as any of them. There were also many +serious thoughts in the back of his head. + +At nine o'clock the little colonial force was within half a mile of +Oghwaga, and nothing had yet occurred to disclose whether the Iroquois +knew of their advance. Henry and his comrades, well in front, looked +down upon the town, but saw nothing. No light came from an Indian +chimney, nor did any dog howl. Just behind them were the troops in loose +order, Colonel Butler impatiently striking his booted leg with a switch, +and William Gray seeking to restrain his ardor, that he might set a good +example to the men. + +“What do you think, Mr. Ware?” asked Colonel Butler. + +“I think we ought to rush the town at once.” + +“It is so!” exclaimed Heemskerk, forgetting all about painting blue +plates. + +“The signal is the trumpet; you blow it, Captain Gray, and then we'll +charge.” + +William Gray took the trumpet from one of the men and blew a long, +thrilling note. Before its last echo was ended, the little army rushed +upon the town. Three or four shots came from the houses, and the +soldiers fired a few at random in return, but that was all. Indian +scouts had brought warning of the white advance, and the great chiefs, +gathering up all the people who were in the village, had fled. A +retreating warrior or two had fired the shots, but when the white men +entered this important Iroquois stronghold they did not find a single +human being. Timmendiquas, the White Lightning of the Wyandots, was +gone; Thayendanegea, the real head of the Six Nations, had slipped away; +and with them had vanished the renegades. But they had gone in haste. +All around them were the evidences. The houses, built of wood, were +scores in number, and many of them contained furniture such as a +prosperous white man of the border would buy for himself. There were +gardens and shade trees about these, and back of them, barns, many of +them filled with Indian corn. Farther on were clusters of bark lodges, +which had been inhabited by the less progressive of the Iroquois. + +Henry stood in the center of the town and looked at the houses misty +in the moonlight. The army had not yet made much noise, but he was +beginning to hear behind him the ominous word, “Wyoming,” repeated more +than once. Cornelius Heemskerk had stopped revolving, and, standing +beside Henry, wiped his perspiring, red face. + +“Now that I am here, I think again of the blue plates of Holland, +Mr. Ware,” he said. “It is a dark and sanguinary time. The men whose +brethren were scalped or burned alive at Wyoming will not now spare the +town of those who did it. In this wilderness they give blow for blow, or +perish.” + +Henry knew that it was true, but he felt a certain sadness. His heart +had been inflamed against the Iroquois, he could never forget Wyoming or +its horrors; but in the destruction of an ancient town the long labor +of man perished, and it seemed waste. Doubtless a dozen generations of +Iroquois children had played here on the grass. He walked toward the +northern end of the village, and saw fields there from which recent corn +had been taken, but behind him the cry, “Wyoming!” was repeated louder +and oftener now. Then he saw men running here and there with torches, +and presently smoke and flame burst from the houses. He examined the +fields and forest for a little distance to see if any ambushed foe might +still lie among them, but all the while the flame and smoke behind him +were rising higher. + +Henry turned back and joined his comrades. Oghwaga was perishing. The +flames leaped from house to house, and then from lodge to lodge. There +was no need to use torches any more. The whole village was wrapped in +a mass of fire that grew and swelled until the flames rose above the +forest, and were visible in the clear night miles away. + +So great was the heat that Colonel Butler and the soldiers and scouts +were compelled to withdraw to the edge of the forest. The wind rose and +the flames soared. Sparks flew in myriads, and ashes fell dustily on the +dry leaves of the trees. Bob Taylor, with his hands clenched tightly, +muttered under his breath, “Wyoming! Wyoming!” + +“It is the Iroquois who suffer now,” said Heemskerk, as he revolved +slowly away from a heated point. + +Crashes came presently as the houses fell in, and then the sparks would +leap higher and the flames roar louder. The barns, too, were falling +down, and the grain was destroyed. The grapevines were trampled under +foot, and the gardens were ruined. Oghwaga, a great central base of the +Six Nations, was vanishing forever. For four hundred years, ever since +the days of Hiawatha, the Iroquois had waxed in power. They had ruled +over lands larger than great empires. They had built up political and +social systems that are the wonder of students. They were invincible in +war, because every man had been trained from birth to be a warrior, and +now they were receiving their first great blow. + +From a point far in the forest, miles away, Thayendanegea, Timmendiquas, +Hiokatoo, Sangerachte, “Indian” Butler, Walter Butler, Braxton Wyatt, +a low, heavybrowed Tory named Coleman, with whom Wyatt had become very +friendly, and about sixty Iroquois and twenty Tories were watching a +tower of light to the south that had just appeared above the trees. It +was of an intense, fiery color, and every Indian in that gloomy band +knew that it was Oghwaga, the great, the inviolate, the sacred, that was +burning, and that the men who were doing it were the white frontiersmen, +who, his red-coated allies had told him, would soon be swept forever +from these woods. And they were forced to stand and see it, not daring +to attack so strong and alert a force. + +They sat there in the darkness among the trees, and watched the column +of fire grow and grow until it seemed to pierce the skies. Timmendiquas +never said a word. In his heart, Indian though he was, he felt that +the Iroquois had gone too far. In him was the spirit of the farseeing +Hiawatha. He could perceive that great cruelty always brought +retaliation; but it was not for him, almost an alien, to say these +things to Thayendanegea, the mighty war chief of the Mohawks and the +living spirit of the Iroquois nation. + +Thayendanegea sat on the stump of a tree blown down by winter storms. +His arms were folded across his breast, and he looked steadily toward +that red threatening light off there in the south. Some such idea as +that in the mind of Timmendiquas may have been passing in his own. He +was an uncommon Indian, and he had had uncommon advantages. He had not +believed that the colonists could make head against so great a kingdom +as England, aided by the allied tribes, the Canadians, and the large +body of Tories among their own people. But he saw with his own eyes the +famous Oghwaga of the Iroquois going down under their torch. + +“Tell me, Colonel John Butler,” he said bitterly, “where is your great +king now? Is his arm long enough to reach from London to save our town +of Oghwaga, which is perhaps as much to us as his great city of London +is to him?” + +The thickset figure of “Indian” Butler moved, and his swart face flushed +as much as it could. + +“You know as much about the king as I do, Joe Brant,” he replied. “We +are fighting here for your country as well as his, and you cannot say +that Johnson's Greens and Butler's Rangers and the British and Canadians +have not done their part.” + +“It is true,” said Thayendanegea, “but it is true, also, that one must +fight with wisdom. Perhaps there was too much burning of living men at +Wyoming. The pain of the wounded bear makes him fight the harder, and +it, is because of Wyoming that Oghwaga yonder burns. Say, is it not so, +Colonel John Butler?” + +“Indian” Butler made no reply, but sat, sullen and lowering. The Tory, +Coleman, whispered to Braxton Wyatt, but Timmendiquas was the only one +who spoke aloud. + +“Thayendanegea,” he said, “I, and the Wyandots who are with me, have +come far. We expected to return long ago to the lands on the Ohio, but +we were with you in your village, and now, when Manitou has turned his +face from you for the time, we will not leave you. We stay and fight by +your side.” + +Thayendanegea stood up, and Timmendiquas stood up, also. + +“You are a great chief, White Lightning of the Wyandots,” he said, “and +you and I are brothers. I shall be proud and happy to have such a mighty +leader fighting with me. We will have vengeance for this. The power of +the Iroquois is as great as ever.” + +He raised himself to his full height, pointing to the fire, and the +flames of hate and resolve burned in his eyes. Old Hiokatoo, the most +savage of all the chiefs, shook his tomahawk, and a murmur passed +through the group of Indians. + +Braxton Wyatt still talked in whispers to his new friend, Coleman, +the Tory, who was more to his liking than the morose and savage Walter +Butler, whom he somewhat feared. Wyatt was perhaps the least troubled +of all those present. Caring for himself only, the burning of Oghwaga +caused him no grief. He suffered neither from the misfortune of friend +nor foe. He was able to contemplate the glowing tower of light with +curiosity only. Braxton Wyatt knew that the Iroquois and their allies +would attempt revenge for the burning of Oghwaga, and he saw profit for +himself in such adventures. His horizon had broadened somewhat of late. +The renegade, Blackstaffe, had returned to rejoin Simon Girty, but he +had found a new friend in Coleman. He was coming now more into touch +with the larger forces in the East, nearer to the seat of the great war, +and he hoped to profit by it. + +“This is a terrible blow to Brant,” Coleman whispered to him. “The +Iroquois have been able to ravage the whole frontier, while the rebels, +occupied with the king's troops, have not been able to send help to +their own. But they have managed to strike at last, as you see.” + +“I do see,” said Wyatt, “and on the whole, Coleman, I'm not sorry. +Perhaps these chiefs won't be so haughty now, and they'll soon realize +that they need likely chaps such as you and me, eh, Coleman.” + +“You're not far from the truth,” said Coleman, laughing a little, and +pleased at the penetration of his new friend. They did not talk further, +although the agreement between them was well established. Neither did +the Indian chiefs or the Tory leaders say any more. They watched the +tower of fire a long time, past midnight, until it reached its zenith +and then began to sink. They saw its crest go down behind the trees, +and they saw the luminous cloud in the south fade and go out entirely, +leaving there only the darkness that reined everywhere else. + +Then the Indian and Tory leaders rose and silently marched northward. It +was nearly dawn when Henry and his comrades lay down for the rest that +they needed badly. They spread their blankets at the edge of the open, +but well back from the burned area, which was now one great mass of +coals and charred timbers, sending up little flame but much smoke. Many +of the troops were already asleep, but Henry, before lying down, begged +William Gray to keep a strict watch lest the Iroquois attack from +ambush. He knew that the rashness and confidence of the borderers, +especially when drawn together in masses, had often caused them great +losses, and he was resolved to prevent a recurrence at the present +time if he could. He had made these urgent requests of Gray, instead of +Colonel Butler, because of the latter's youth and willingness to take +advice. + +“I'll have the forest beat up continually all about the town,” he said. +“We must not have our triumph spoiled by any afterclap.” + +Henry and his comrades, wrapped in their blankets, lay in a row almost +at the edge of the forest. The heat from the fire was still great, but +it would die down after a while, and the October air was nipping. Henry +usually fell asleep in a very few minutes, but this time, despite his +long exertions and lack of rest, he remained awake when his comrades +were sound asleep. Then he fell into a drowsy state, in which he saw +the fire rising in great black coils that united far above. It seemed to +Henry, half dreaming and forecasting the future, that the Indian spirit +was passing in the smoke. + +When he fell asleep it was nearly daylight, and in three or four hours +he was up again, as the little army intended to march at once upon +another Indian town. The hours while he slept had passed in silence, and +no Indians had come near. William Gray had seen to that, and his best +scout had been one Cornelius Heemskerk, a short, stout man of Dutch +birth. + +“It was one long, long tramp for me, Mynheer Henry,” said Heemskerk, +as he revolved slowly up to the camp fire where Henry was eating his +breakfast, “and I am now very tired. It was like walking four or five +times around Holland, which is such a fine little country, with the +canals and the flowers along them, and no great, dark woods filled with +the fierce Iroquois.” + +“Still, I've a notion, Mynheer Heemskerk, that you'd rather be here, and +perhaps before the day is over you will get some fighting hot enough to +please even you.” + +Mynheer Heemskerk threw up his hands in dismay, but a half hour later +he was eagerly discussing with Henry the possibility of overtaking some +large band of retreating Iroquois. + +Urged on by all the scouts and by those who had suffered at Wyoming, +Colonel Butler gathered his forces and marched swiftly that very morning +up the river against another Indian town, Cunahunta. Fortunately for +him, a band of riflemen and scouts unsurpassed in skill led the way, and +saw to it that the road was safe. In this band were the five, of course, +and after them Heemskerk, young Taylor, and several others. + +“If the Iroquois do not get in our way, we'll strike Cunahunta before +night,” said Heemskerk, who knew the way. + +“It seems to me that they will certainly try to save their towns,” said +Henry. “Surely Brant and the Tories will not let us strike so great a +blow without a fight.” + +“Most of their warriors are elsewhere, Mynheer Henry,” said Heemskerk, +“or they would certainly give us a big battle. We've been lucky in the +time of our advance. As it is, I think we'll have something to do.” + +It was now about noon, the noon of a beautiful October day of the North, +the air like life itself, the foliage burning red on the hills, the +leaves falling softly from the trees as the wind blew, but bringing with +them no hint of decay. None of the vanguard felt fatigue, but when they +crossed a low range of hills and saw before them a creek flowing down +to the Susquehanna, Henry, who was in the lead, stopped suddenly and +dropped down in the grass. The others, knowing without question the +significance of the action, also sank down. + +“What is it, Henry?” asked Shif'less Sol. + +“You see how thick the trees are on the other side of that bank. Look +a little to the left of a big oak, and you will see the feathers in the +headdress of an Iroquois. Farther on I think I can catch a glimpse of +a green coat, and if I am right that coat is worn by one of Johnson's +Royal Greens. It's an ambush, Sol, an ambush meant for us.” + +“But it's not an ambush intended for our main force, Mynheer Henry,” + said Heemskerk, whose red face began to grow redder with the desire for +action. “I, too, see the feather of the Iroquois.” + +“As good scouts and skirmishers it's our duty, then, to clear this force +out of the way, and not wait for the main body to come up, is it not?” + asked Henry, with a suggestive look at the Dutchman. + +“What a goot head you have, Mynheer Henry!” exclaimed Heemskerk. “Of +course we will fight, and fight now!” + +“How about them blue plates?” said Shif'less Sol softly. But Heemskerk +did not hear him. + +They swiftly developed their plan of action. There could be no earthly +doubt of the fact that the Iroquois and some Tories were ambushed on +the far side of the creek. Possibly Thayendanegea himself, stung by the +burning of Oghwaga and the advance on Cunahunta, was there. But they +were sure that it was not a large band. + +The party of Henry and Heemskerk numbered fourteen, but every one was a +veteran, full of courage, tenacity, and all the skill of the woods. +They had supreme confidence in their ability to beat the best of the +Iroquois, man for man, and they carried the very finest arms known to +the time. + +It was decided that four of the men should remain on the hill. The +others, including the five, Heemskerk, and Taylor, would make a circuit, +cross the creek a full mile above, and come down on the flank of the +ambushing party. Theirs would be the main attack, but it would be +preceded by sharpshooting from the four, intended to absorb the +attention of the Iroquois. The chosen ten slipped back down the hill, +and as soon as they were sheltered from any possible glimpse by the +warriors, they rose and ran rapidly westward. Before they had gone far +they heard the crack of a rifle shot, then another, then several from +another point, as if in reply. + +“It's our sharpshooters,” said Henry. “They've begun to disturb the +Iroquois, and they'll keep them busy.” + +“Until we break in on their sport and keep them still busier,” exclaimed +Heemskerk, revolving swiftly through the bushes, his face blazing red. + +It did not take long for such as they to go the mile or so that they +intended, and then they crossed the creek, wading in the water breast +high, but careful to keep their ammunition dry. Then they turned and +rapidly descended the stream on its northern bank. In a few minutes they +heard the sound of a rifle shot, and then of another as if replying. + +“The Iroquois have been fooled,” exclaimed Heemskerk. “Our four good +riflemen have made them think that a great force is there, and they have +not dared to cross the creek themselves and make an attack.” + +In a few minutes more, as they ran noiselessly through the forest, they +saw a little drifting smoke, and now and then the faint flash of rifles. +They were coming somewhere near to the Iroquois band, and they practiced +exceeding caution. Presently they caught sight of Indian faces, and now +and then one of Johnson's Greens or Butler's Rangers. They stopped and +held a council that lasted scarcely more than half a minute. They all +agreed there was but one thing to do, and that was to attack in the +Indian's own way-that is, by ambush and sharpshooting. + +Henry fired the first shot, and an Iroquois, aiming at a foe on the +other side of the creek, fell. Heemskerk quickly followed with a shot as +good, and the surprised Iroquois turned to face this new foe. But they +and the Tories were a strong band, and they retreated only a little. +Then they stood firm, and the forest battle began. The Indians numbered +not less than thirty, and both Braxton Wyatt and Coleman were with them, +but the value of skill was here shown by the smaller party, the one +that attacked. The frontiersmen, trained to every trick and wile of +the forest, and marksmen such as the Indians were never able to become, +continually pressed in and drove the Iroquois from tree to tree. Once or +twice the warriors started a rush, but they were quickly driven back by +sharpshooting such as they had never faced before. They soon realized +that this was no band of border farmers, armed hastily for an emergency, +but a foe who knew everything that they knew, and more. + +Braxton Wyatt and his friend Coleman fought with the Iroquois, and Wyatt +in particular was hot with rage. He suspected that the five who had +defeated him so often were among these marksmen, and there might be a +chance now to destroy them all. He crept to the side of the fierce old +Seneca chief, Hiokatoo, and suggested that a part of their band slip +around and enfold the enemy. + +Old Hiokatoo, in the thick of battle now, presented his most terrifying +aspect. He was naked save the waist cloth, his great body was covered +with scars, and, as he bent a little forward, he held cocked and ready +in his hands a fine rifle that had been presented to him by his good +friend, the king. The Senecas, it may be repeated, had suffered terribly +at the Battle of the Oriskany in the preceding year, and throughout +these years of border were the most cruel of all the Iroquois. In this +respect Hiokatoo led all the Senecas, and now Braxton Wyatt used as he +was to savage scenes, was compelled to admit to himself that this was +the most terrifying human being whom he had ever beheld. He was old, but +age in him seemed merely to add to his strength and ferocity. The path +of a deep cut, healed long since, but which the paint even did not hide, +lay across his forehead. Others almost as deep adorned his right cheek, +his chin, and his neck. He was crouched much like a panther, with his +rifle in his hands and the ready tomahawk at his belt. But it was the +extraordinary expression of his eyes that made Braxton Wyatt shudder. He +read there no mercy for anything, not even for himself, Braxton Wyatt, +if he should stand in the way, and it was this last fact that brought +the shudder. + +Hiokatoo thought it a good plan. Twenty warriors, mostly Senecas and +Cayugas, were detailed to execute it at once, and they stole off toward +the right. Henry had suspected some such diversion, and, as he had been +joined now by the four men from the other side of the creek, he disposed +his little force to meet it. Both Shif'less Sol and Heemskerk had caught +sight of figures slipping away among the trees, and Henry craftily drew +back a little. While two or three men maintained the sharpshooting +in the front, he waited for the attack. It came in half an hour, the +flanking force making a savage and open rush, but the fire of the white +riflemen was so swift and deadly that they were driven back again. But +they had come very near, and a Tory rushed directly at young Taylor. +The Tory, like Taylor, had come from Wyoming, and he had been one of +the most ruthless on that terrible day. When they were less than a dozen +feet apart they recognized each other. Henry saw the look that passed +between them, and, although he held a loaded rifle in his hand, for some +reason he did not use it. The Tory fired a pistol at Taylor, but the +bullet missed, and the Wyoming youth, leaping forth, swung his unloaded +rifle and brought the stock down with all his force upon the head of his +enemy. The man, uttering a single sound, a sort of gasp, fell dead, and +Taylor stood over him, still trembling with rage. In an instant Henry +seized him and dragged him down, and then a Seneca bullet whistled where +he had been. + +“He was one of the worst at Wyoming-I saw him!” exclaimed young Taylor, +still trembling all over with passion. + +“He'll never massacre anybody else. You've seen to that,” said Henry, +and in a minute or two Taylor was quiet. The sharpshooting continued, +but here as elsewhere, the Iroquois had the worst of it. Despite their +numbers, they could not pass nor flank that line of deadly marksmen who +lay behind trees almost in security, and who never missed. Another Tory +and a chief, also, were killed, and Braxton Wyatt was daunted. Nor did +he feel any better when old Hiokatoo crept to his side. + +“We have failed here,” he said. “They shoot too well for us to rush +them. We have lost good men.” Hiokatoo frowned, and the scars on his +face stood out in livid red lines. + +“It is so,” he said. “These who fight us now are of their best, and +while we fight, the army that destroyed Oghwaga is coming up. Come, we +will go.” + +The little white band soon saw that the Indians were gone from their +front. They scouted some distance, and, finding no enemy, hurried back +to Colonel Butler. The troops were pushed forward, and before night they +reached Cunahunta, which they burned also. Some farther advance was +made into the Indian country, and more destruction was done, but now the +winter was approaching, and many of the men insisted upon returning home +to protect their families. Others were to rejoin the main Revolutionary +army, and the Iroquois campaign was to stop for the time. The first blow +had been struck, and it was a hard one, but the second blow and third +and fourth and more, which the five knew were so badly needed, must +wait. + +Henry and his comrades were deeply disappointed. They had hoped to go +far into the Iroquois country, to break the power of the Six Nations, to +hunt down the Butlers and the Johnsons and Brant himself, but they could +not wholly blame their commander. The rear guard, or, rather, the forest +guard of the Revolution, was a slender and small force indeed. + +Henry and his comrades said farewell to Colonel Butler with much +personal regret, and also to the gallant troops, some of whom were +Morgan's riflemen from Virginia. The farewells to William Gray, Bob +Taylor, and Cornelius Heemskerk were more intimate. + +“I think we'll see more of one another in other campaigns,” said Gray. + +“We'll be on the battle line, side by side, once more,” said Taylor, +“and we'll strike another blow for Wyoming.” + +“I foresee,” said Cornelius Heemskerk, “that I, a peaceful man, who +ought to be painting blue plates in Holland, will be drawn into danger +in the great, dark wilderness again, and that you will be there with +me, Mynheer Henry, Mynheer Paul, Mynheer the Wise Solomon, Mynheer the +Silent Tom, and Mynheer the Very Long James. I see it clearly. I, a man +of peace, am always being pushed in to war.” + +“We hope it will come true,” said the five together. + +“Do you go back to Kentucky?” asked William Gray. + +“No,” replied Henry, speaking for them all, “we have entered upon this +task here, and we are going to stay in it until it is finished.” + +“It is dangerous, the most dangerous thing in the world,” said +Heemskerk. “I still have my foreknowledge that I shall stand by your +side in some great battle to come, but the first thing I shall do when +I see you again, my friends, is to look around at you, one, two, three, +four, five, and see if you have upon your heads the hair which is now so +rich, thick, and flowing.” + +“Never fear, my friend,” said Henry, “we have fought with the warriors +all the way from the Susquehanna to New Orleans and not one of us has +lost a single lock of hair.” + +“It is one Dutchman's hope that it will always be so,” said Heemskerk, +and then he revolved rapidly away lest they see his face express +emotion. + +The five received great supplies of powder and bullets from Colonel +Butler, and then they parted in the forest. Many of the soldiers looked +back and saw the five tall figures in a line, leaning upon the muzzles +of their long-barreled Kentucky rifles, and regarding them in silence. +It seemed to the soldiers that they had left behind them the true sons +of the wilderness, who, in spite of all dangers, would be there to +welcome them when they returned. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. THE DESERTED CABIN + + +When the last soldier had disappeared among the trees, Henry turned to +the others. “Well, boys,” he asked, “what are you thinking about?” + +“I?” asked Paul. “I'm thinking about a certain place I know, a sort of +alcove or hole in a cliff above a lake.” + +“An' me?” said Shif'less Sol. “I'm thinkin' how fur that alcove runs +back, an' how it could be fitted up with furs an' made warm fur the +winter.” + +“Me?” said Tom Ross. “I'm thinkin' what a snug place that alcove would +be when the snow an' hail were drivin' down the creek in front of you.” + +“An' ez fur me,” said Long Jim Hart, “I wuz thinkin' I could run a sort +uv flue from the back part uv that alcove out through the front an' let +the smoke pass out. I could cook all right. It wouldn't be ez good a +place fur cookin' ez the one we hed that time we spent the winter on the +island in the lake, but 'twould serve.” + +“It's strange,” said Henry, “but I've been thinking of all the things +that all four of you have been thinking about, and, since we are agreed, +we are bound to go straight to 'The Alcove' and pass the winter there.” + +Without another word he led the way, and the others followed. It was +apparent to everyone that they must soon find a winter base, because +the cold had increased greatly in the last few days. The last leaves +had fallen from the trees, and a searching wind howled among the bare +branches. Better shelter than blankets would soon be needed. + +On their way they passed Oghwaga, a mass of blackened ruins, among which +wolves howled, the same spectacle that Wyoming now afforded, although +Oghwaga had not been stained by blood. + +It was a long journey to “The Alcove,” but they did not hurry, seeing no +need of it, although they were warned of the wisdom of their decision by +the fact that the cold was increasing. The country in which the lake was +situated lay high, and, as all of them were quite sure that the cold +was going to be great there, they thought it wise to make preparations +against it, which they discussed as they walked in, leisurely fashion +through the woods. They spoke, also, of greater things. All felt that +they had been drawn into a mightier current than any in which they had +swam before. They fully appreciated the importance to the Revolution +of this great rearguard struggle, and at present they did not have the +remotest idea of returning to Kentucky under any circumstances. + +“We've got to fight it out with Braxton Wyatt and the Iroquois,” said +Henry. “I've heard that Braxton is organizing a band of Tories of his +own, and that he is likely to be as dangerous as either of the Butlers.” + +“Some day we'll end him for good an' all,” said Shif'less Sol. + +It was four or five days before they reached their alcove, and now all +the forest was bare and apparently lifeless. They came down the creek, +and found their boat unharmed and untouched still among the foliage at +the base of the cliff. + +“That's one thing safe,” said Long Jim, “an' I guess we'll find 'The +Alcove' all right, too.” + +“Unless a wild animal has taken up its abode there,” said Paul. + +“'Tain't likely,” replied Long Jim. “We've left the human smell thar, +an' even after all this time it's likely to drive away any prowlin' bear +or panther that pokes his nose in.” + +Long Jim was quite right. Their snug nest, like that of a squirrel in +the side of a tree, had not been disturbed. The skins which they +had rolled up tightly and placed on the higher shelves of stone were +untouched, and several days' hunting increased the supply. The hunting +was singularly easy, and, although the five did not know it, the +quantity of game was much greater in that region than it had been +for years. It had been swept of human beings by the Iroquois and Tory +hordes, and deer, bear, and panther seemed to know instinctively that +the woods were once more safe for them. + +In their hunting they came upon the ruins of charred houses, and more +than once they saw something among the coals that caused them to turn +away with a shudder. At every place where man had made a little opening +the wilderness was quickly reclaiming its own again. Next year the grass +and the foliage would cover up the coals and the hideous relics that lay +among them. + +They jerked great quantities of venison on the trees on the cliff side, +and stored it in “The Alcove.” They also cured some bear meat, and, +having added a further lining of skins, they felt prepared for winter. +They had also added to the comfort of the place. They had taken the +precaution of bringing with them two axes, and with the heads of these +they smoothed out more of the rough places on the floor and sides of +“The Alcove.” They thought it likely, too, that they would need the axes +in other ways later on. + +Only once during these arrangements did they pass the trail of Indians, +and that was made by a party of about twenty, at least ten miles from +“The Alcove.” They seemed to be traveling north, and the five made no +investigations. Somewhat later they met a white runner in the forest, +and he told them of the terrible massacre of Cherry Valley. Walter +Butler, emulating his father's exploit at Wyoming, had come down with a +mixed horde of Iroquois, Tories, British, and Canadians. He had not +been wholly successful, but he had slaughtered half a hundred women and +children, and was now returning northward with prisoners. Some said, +according to the runner, that Thayendanegea had led the Indians on this +occasion, but, as the five learned later, he had not come up until the +massacre was over. The runner added another piece of information that +interested them deeply. Butler had been accompanied to Cherry Valley by +a young Tory or renegade named Wyatt, who had distinguished himself by +cunning and cruelty. It was said that Wyatt had built up for himself a +semi-independent command, and was becoming a great scourge. + +“That's our Braxton,” said Henry. “He is rising to his opportunities. He +is likely to become fully the equal of Walter Butler.” + +But they could do nothing at present to find Wyatt, and they went +somewhat sadly back to “The Alcove.” They had learned also from the +runner that Wyatt had a lieutenant, a Tory named Coleman, and this fact +increased their belief that Wyatt was undertaking to operate on a large +scale. + +“We may get a chance at him anyhow,” said Henry. “He and his band may go +too far away from the main body of the Indians and Tories, and in that +case we can strike a blow if we are watchful.” + +Every one of the five, although none of them knew it, received an +additional impulse from this news about Braxton Wyatt. He had grown up +with them. Loyalty to the king had nothing to do with his becoming a +renegade or a Tory; he could not plead lost lands or exile for taking +part in such massacres as Wyoming or Cherry Valley, but, long since an +ally of the Indians, he was now at the head of a Tory band that murdered +and burned from sheer pleasure. + +“Some day we'll get him, as shore as the sun rises an' sets,” said +Shif'less Sol, repeating Henry's prediction. + +But for the present they “holed up,” and now their foresight was +justified. To such as they, used to the hardships of forest life, “The +Alcove” was a cheery nest. From its door they watched the wild fowl +streaming south, pigeons, ducks, and others outlined against the dark, +wintry skies. So numerous were these flocks that there was scarcely a +time when they did not see one passing toward the warm South. + +Shif'less Sol and Paul sat together watching a great flock of wild +geese, arrow shaped, and flying at almost incredible speed. A few +faint honks came to them, and then the geese grew misty on the horizon. +Shif'less Sol followed them with serious eyes. + +“Do you ever think, Paul,” he said, “that we human bein's ain't so +mighty pow'ful ez we think we are. We kin walk on the groun', an' by +hard learnin' an' hard work we kin paddle through the water a little. +But jest look at them geese flyin' a mile high, right over everything, +rivers, forests any mountains, makin' a hundred miles an hour, almost +without flappin' a wing. Then they kin come down on the water an' float +fur hours without bein' tired, an' they kin waddle along on the groun', +too. Did you ever hear of any men who had so many 'complishments? Why, +Paul, s'pose you an' me could grow wings all at once, an' go through the +air a mile a minute fur a month an' never git tired.” + +“We'd certainly see some great sights,” said Paul, “but do you know, +Sol, what would be the first thing I'd do if I had the gift of tireless +wings?” + +“Fly off to them other continents I've heard you tell about.” + +“No, I'd swoop along over the forests up here until I picked out all the +camps of the Indians and Tories. I'd pick out the Butlers and Braxton +Wyatt and Coleman, and see what mischief they were planning. Then I'd +fly away to the East and look down at all the armies, ours in buff and +blue, and the British redcoats. I'd look into the face of our great +commander-in-chief. Then I'd fly away back into the West and South, and +I'd hover over Wareville. I'd see our own people, every last little one +of them. They might take a shot at me, not knowing who I was, but I'd +be so high up in the air no bullet could reach me. Then I'd come soaring +back here to you fellows.” + +“That would shorely be a grand trip, Paul,” said Shif'less Sol, “an' I +wouldn't mind takin' it in myself. But fur the present we'd better busy +our minds with the warnin's the wild fowl are givin' us, though we're +well fixed fur a house already. It's cu'rus what good homes a handy man +kin find in the wilderness.” + +The predictions of the wild fowl were true. A few days later heavy +clouds rolled up in the southwest, and the five watched them, knowing +what they would bring them. They spread to the zenith and then to the +other horizon, clothing the whole circle of the earth. The great flakes +began to drop down, slowly at first, then faster. Soon all the trees +were covered with white, and everything else, too, except the dark +surface of the lake, which received the flakes into its bosom as they +fell. + +It snowed all that day and most of the next, until it lay about two feet +on the ground. After that it turned intensely cold, the surface of the +snow froze, and ice, nearly a foot thick, covered the lake. It was not +possible to travel under such circumstances without artificial help, and +now Tom Ross, who had once hunted in the far North, came to their help. +He showed them how to make snowshoes, and, although all learned to use +them, Henry, with his great strength and peculiar skill, became by far +the most expert. + +As the snow with its frozen surface lay on the ground for weeks, Henry +took many long journeys on the snowshoes. Sometimes be hunted, but +oftener his role was that of scout. He cautioned his friends that he +might be out-three or four days at a time, and that they need take no +alarm about him unless his absence became extremely long. The winter +deepened, the snow melted, and another and greater storm came, freezing +the surface, again making the snowshoes necessary. Henry decided now to +take a scout alone to the northward, and, as the others bad long since +grown into the habit of accepting his decisions almost without question, +he started at once. He was well equipped with his rifle, double barreled +pistol, hatchet, and knife, and he carried in addition a heavy blanket +and some jerked venison. He put on his snowshoes at the foot of the +cliff, waved a farewell to the four heads thrust from “The Alcove” + above, and struck out on the smooth, icy surface of the creek. From this +he presently passed into the woods, and for a long time pursued a course +almost due north. + +It was no vague theory that had drawn Henry forth. In one of his +journeyings be had met a hunter who told him of a band of Tories and +Indians encamped toward the north, and he had an idea that it was the +party led by Braxton Wyatt. Now he meant to see. + +His information was very indefinite, and he began to discover signs much +earlier than he had expected. Before the end of the first day he saw the +traces of other snowshoe runners on the icy snow, and once he came to a +place where a deer had been slain and dressed. Then he came to another +where the snow had been hollowed out under some pines to make a sleeping +place for several men. Clearly he was in the land of the enemy again, +and a large and hostile camp might be somewhere near. + +Henry felt a thrill of joy when he saw these indications. All the +primitive instincts leaped up within him. A child of the forest and of +elemental conditions, the warlike instinct was strong within him. He +was tired of hunting wild animals, and now there was promise of a' more +dangerous foe. For the purposes that he had in view he was glad that +he was alone. The wintry forest, with its two feet of snow covered with +ice, contained no terrors for him. He moved on his snowshoes almost like +a skater, and with all the dexterity of an Indian of the far North, who +is practically born on such shoes. + +As he stood upon the brow of a little hill, elevated upon his snowshoes, +he was, indeed, a wonderful figure. The added height and the white glare +from the ice made him tower like a great giant. He was clad completely +in soft, warm deerskin, his hands were gloved in the same material, +and the fur cap was drawn tightly about his head and ears. The +slender-barreled rifle lay across his shoulder, and the blanket and deer +meat made a light package on his back. Only his face was uncovered, and +that was rosy with the sharp but bracing cold. But the resolute blue +eyes seemed to have grown more resolute in the last six months, and the +firm jaw was firmer than ever. + +It was a steely blue sky, clear, hard, and cold, fitted to the earth +of snow and ice that it inclosed. His eyes traveled the circle of the +horizon three times, and at the end of the third circle he made out a +dim, dark thread against that sheet of blue steel. It was the light of a +camp fire, and that camp fire must belong to an enemy. It was not likely +that anybody else would be sending forth such a signal in this wintry +wilderness. + +Henry judged that the fire was several miles away, and apparently in a +small valley hemmed in by hills of moderate height. He made up his mind +that the band of Braxton Wyatt was there, and he intended to make a +thorough scout about it. He advanced until the smoke line became much +thicker and broader, and then he stopped in the densest clump of bushes +that he could find. He meant to remain there until darkness came, +because, with all foliage gone from the forest, it would be impossible +to examine the hostile camp by day. The bushes, despite the lack of +leaves, were so dense that they hid him well, and, breaking through the +crust of ice, he dug a hole. Then, having taken off his snowshoes and +wrapped his blanket about his body, he thrust himself into the hole +exactly like a rabbit in its burrow. He laid his shoes on the crust of +ice beside him. Of course, if found there by a large party of warriors +on snowshoes he would have no chance to flee, but he was willing to take +what seemed to him a small risk. The dark would not be long in coming, +and it was snug and warm in the hole. As he sat, his head rose just +above the surrounding ice, but his rifle barrel rose much higher. He ate +a little venison for supper, and the weariness in the ankles that comes +from long traveling on snowshoes disappeared. + +He could not see outside the bushes, but he listened with those +uncommonly keen ears of his. No sound at all came. There was not even +a wind to rustle the bare boughs. The sun hung a huge red globe in the +west, and all that side of the earth was tinged with a red glare, wintry +and cold despite its redness. Then, as the earth turned, the sun was +lost behind it, and the cold dark came. + +Henry found it so comfortable in his burrow that all his muscles were +soothed, and he grew sleepy. It would have been very pleasant to doze +there, but he brought himself round with an effort of the will, and +became as wide awake as ever. He was eager to be off on his expedition, +but he knew how much depended on waiting, and he waited. One hour, two +hours, three hours, four hours, still and dark, passed in the forest +before he roused himself from his covert. Then, warm, strong, and +tempered like steel for his purpose, he put on his snowshoes, and +advanced toward the point from which the column of smoke had risen. + +He had never been more cautious and wary than he was now. He was a +formidable figure in the darkness, crouched forward, and moving like +some spirit of the wilderness, half walking, half gliding. + +Although the night had come out rather clear, with many cold stars +twinkling in the blue, the line of smoke was no longer visible. But +Henry did not expect it to be, nor did he need it. He had marked its +base too clearly in his mind to make any mistake, and he advanced with +certainty. He came presently into an open space, and he stopped with +amazement. Around him were the stumps of a clearing made recently, and +near him were some yards of rough rail fence. + +He crouched against the fence, and saw on the far side of the clearing +the dim outlines of several buildings, from the chimneys of two of +which smoke was rising. It was his first thought that he had come upon +a little settlement still held by daring borderers, but second thought +told him that it was impossible. Another and more comprehensive look +showed many signs of ruin. He saw remains of several burned houses, but +clothing all was the atmosphere of desolation and decay that tells +when a place is abandoned. The two threads of smoke did not alter this +impression. + +Henry divined it all. The builders of this tiny village in the +wilderness bad been massacred or driven away. A part of the houses had +been destroyed, some were left standing, and now there were visitors. He +advanced without noise, keeping behind the rail fence, and approaching +one of the houses from the chimneys of which the smoke came. Here be +crouched a long time, looking and listening attentively; but it seemed +that the visitors had no fears. Why should they, when there was nothing +that they need fear in this frozen wilderness? + +Henry stole a little nearer. It had been a snug, trim little settlement. +Perhaps twenty-five or thirty people had lived there, literally hewing +a home out of the forest. His heart throbbed with a fierce hatred and, +anger against those who had spoiled all this, and his gloved finger +crept to the hammer of his rifle. + +The night was intensely cold. The mercury was far below zero, and a wind +that had begun to rise cut like the edge of a knife. Even the wariest of +Indians in such desolate weather might fail to keep a watch. But Henry +did not suffer. The fur cap was drawn farther over chin and ears, and +the buckskin gloves kept his fingers warm and flexible. Besides, his +blood was uncommonly hot in his veins. + +His comprehensive eye told him that, while some of the buildings had not +been destroyed, they were so ravaged and damaged that they could never +be used again, save as a passing shelter, just as they were being used +now. He slid cautiously about the desolate place. He crossed a brook, +frozen almost solidly in its bed, and he saw two or three large mounds +that had been haystacks, now covered with snow. + +Then he slid without noise back to the nearest of the houses from which +the smoke came. It was rather more pretentious than the others, built of +planks instead of logs, and with shingles for a roof. The remains of a +small portico formed the approach to the front door. Henry supposed that +the house had been set on fire and that perhaps a heavy rain had saved a +part of it. + +A bar of light falling across the snow attracted his attention. He knew +that it was the glow of a fire within coming through a window. A faint +sound of voices reached his ears, and he moved forward slowly to the +window. It was an oaken shutter originally fastened with a leather +strap, but the strap was gone, and now some one had tied it, though not +tightly, with a deer tendon. The crack between shutter and wall was at +least three inches, and Henry could see within very well. + +He pressed his side tightly to the wall and put his eyes to the crevice. +What he saw within did not still any of those primitive feelings that +had risen so strongly in his breast. + +A great fire had been built in the log fireplace, but it was burning +somewhat low now, having reached that mellow period of least crackling +and greatest heat. The huge bed of coals threw a mass of varied and +glowing colors across the floor. Large holes had been burned in the side +of the room by the original fire, but Indian blankets had been fastened +tightly over them. + +In front of the fire sat Braxton Wyatt in a Loyalist uniform, a +three-cornered hat cocked proudly on his head, and a small sword by his +side. He had grown heavier, and Henry saw that the face had increased +much in coarseness and cruelty. It had also increased in satisfaction. +He was a great man now, as he saw great men, and both face and figure +radiated gratification and pride as he lolled before the fire. At the +other corner, sitting upon the floor and also in a Loyalist uniform, +was his lieutenant, Levi Coleman, older, heavier, and with a short, +uncommonly muscular figure. His face was dark and cruel, with small eyes +set close together. A half dozen other white men and more than a dozen +Indians were in the room. All these lay upon their blankets on the +floor, because all the furniture had been destroyed. Yet they had +eaten, and they lay there content in the soothing glow of the fire, like +animals that had fed well. Henry was so near that he could hear every +word anyone spoke. + +“It was well that the Indians led us to this place, eh, Levi?” said +Wyatt. + +“I'm glad the fire spared a part of it,” said Coleman. “Looks as if it +was done just for us, to give us a shelter some cold winter night when +we come along. I guess the Iroquois Aieroski is watching over us.” + +Wyatt laughed. + +“You're a man that I like, Levi,” he said. “You can see to the inside of +things. It would be a good idea to use this place as a base and shelter, +and make a raid on some of the settlements east of the hills, eh, Levi?” + +“It could be done,” said Coleman. “But just listen to that wind, will +you! On a night like this it must cut like a saber's edge. Even our +Iroquois are glad to be under a roof.” + +Henry still gazed in at the crack with eyes that were lighted up by an +angry fire. So here was more talk of destruction and slaughter! His gaze +alighted upon an Indian who sat in a corner engaged upon a task. Henry +looked more closely, and saw that he was stretching a blonde-haired +scalp over a small hoop. A shudder shook his whole frame. Only those who +lived amid such scenes could understand the intensity of his feelings. +He felt, too, a bitter sense of injustice. The doers of these deeds were +here in warmth and comfort, while the innocent were dead or fugitives. +He turned away from the window, stepping gently upon the snowshoes. He +inferred that the remainder of Wyatt's band were quartered in the other +house from which he had seen the smoke rising. It was about twenty rods +away, but he did not examine it, because a great idea had been born +suddenly in his brain. The attempt to fulfill the idea would be +accompanied by extreme danger, but he did not hesitate a moment. He +stole gently to one of the half-fallen outhouses and went inside. Here +he found what he wanted, a large pine shelf that had been sheltered from +rain and that was perfectly dry. He scraped off a large quantity of the +dry pine until it formed almost a dust, and he did not cease until he +had filled his cap with it. Then he cut off large splinters, until +he had accumulated a great number, and after that he gathered smaller +pieces of half-burned pine. + +He was fully two hours doing this work, and the night advanced far, but +he never faltered. His head was bare, but he was protected from the +wind by a fragment of the outhouse wall. Every two or three minutes he +stopped and listened for the sound of a creaking, sliding footstep on +the snow, but, never hearing any, he always resumed his work with the +same concentration. All the while the wind rose and moaned through the +ruins of the little village. When Henry chanced to raise his head above +the sheltering wall, it was like the slash of a knife across his cheek. + +Finally he took half of the pine dust in his cap and a lot of the +splinters under his arm, and stole back to the house from which the +light had shone. He looked again through the crevice at the window. The +light had died down much more, and both Wyatt and Coleman were asleep on +the floor. But several of the Iroquois were awake, although they sat as +silent and motionless as stones against the wall. + +Henry moved from the window and selected a sheltered spot beside the +plank wall. There he put the pine dust in a little heap on the snow +and covered it over with pine splinters, on top of which he put larger +pieces of pine. Then he went back for the remainder of the pine dust, +and built a similar pyramid against a sheltered side of the second +house. + +The most delicate part of his task had now come, one that good fortune +only could aid him in achieving, but the brave youth, his heart aflame +with righteous anger against those inside, still pursued the work. His +heart throbbed, but hand and eye were steady. + +Now came the kindly stroke of fortune for which he had hoped. The wind +rose much higher and roared harder against the house. It would prevent +the Iroquois within, keen of ear as they were, from hearing a light +sound without. Then he drew forth his flint and steel and struck them +together with a hand so strong and swift that sparks quickly leaped +forth and set fire to the pine tinder. Henry paused only long enough to +see the flame spread to the splinters, and then he ran rapidly to the +other house, where the task was repeated-he intended that his job should +be thorough. + +Pursuing this resolve to make his task complete, he came back to the +first house and looked at his fire. It had already spread to the larger +pieces of pine, and it could not go out now. The sound made by the +flames blended exactly with the roaring of the wind, and another minute +or two might pass before the Iroquois detected it. + +Now his heart throbbed again, and exultation was mingled with his anger. +By the time the Iroquois were aroused to the danger the flames would be +so high that the wind would reach them. Then no one could put them out. + +It might have been safer for him to flee deep into the forest at once, +but that lingering desire to make his task complete and, also, the wish +to see the result kept him from doing it. He merely walked across the +open space and stood behind a tree at the edge of the forest. + +Braxton Wyatt and his Tories and Iroquois were very warm, very snug, in +the shelter of the old house with the great bed of coals before them. +They may even have been dreaming peaceful and beautiful dreams, when +suddenly an Iroquois sprang to his feet and uttered a cry that awoke all +the rest. + +“I smell smoke!” he exclaimed in his tongue, “and there is fire, too! I +hear it crackle outside!” + +Braxton Wyatt ran to the window and jerked it open. Flame and smoke blew +in his face. He uttered an angry cry, and snatched at the pistol in his +belt. + +“The whole side of the house is on fire!” he exclaimed. “Whose neglect +has done this?” + +Coleman, shrewd and observing, was at his elbow. + +“The fire was set on the outside,” he said. “It was no carelessness of +our men. Some enemy has done this!” + +“It is true!” exclaimed Wyatt furiously. “Out, everybody! The house +burns fast!” + +There was a rush for the door. Already ashes and cinders were falling +about their heads. Flames leaped high, were caught by the roaring winds, +and roared with them. The shell of the house would soon be gone, and +when Tories and Iroquois were outside they saw the remainder of their +band pouring forth from the other house, which was also in flames. + +No means of theirs could stop so great a fire, and they stood in a sort +of stupefaction, watching it as it was fanned to greatest heights by the +wind. + +All the remaining outbuildings caught, also, and in a few moments +nothing whatever would be left of the tiny village. Braxton Wyatt and +his band must lie in the icy wilderness, and they could never use this +place as a basis for attack upon settlements. + +“How under the sun could it have happened?” exclaimed Wyatt. + +“It didn't happen. It was done,” said Coleman. “Somebody set these +houses on fire while we slept within. Hark to that!” + +An Iroquois some distance from the houses was bending over the snow +where it was not yet melted by the heat. He saw there the track of +snowshoes, and suddenly, looking toward the forest, whither they led, he +saw a dark figure flit away among the trees. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. HENRY'S SLIDE + + +Henry Ware, lingering at the edge of the clearing, his body hidden +behind one of the great tree trunks, had been watching the scene with +a fascinated interest that would not let him go. He knew that his work +there was done already. Everything would be utterly destroyed by the +flames which, driven by the wind, leaped from one half-ruined building +to another. Braxton Wyatt and his band would have enough to do +sheltering themselves from the fierce winter, and the settlements could +rest for a while at least. Undeniably he felt exultation as he witnessed +the destructive work of his hand. The border, with its constant struggle +for-life and terrible deeds, bred fierce passions. + +In truth, although he did not know it himself, he stayed there to please +his eye and heart. A new pulse beat triumphantly every time a timber, +burned through, fell in, or a crash came from a falling roof. He laughed +inwardly as the flames disclosed the dismay on the faces of the Iroquois +and Tories, and it gave him deep satisfaction to see Braxton Wyatt, his +gaudy little sword at his thigh, stalking about helpless. It was while +he was looking, absorbed in such feelings, that the warrior of the alert +eye saw him and gave the warning shout. + +Henry turned in an instant, and darted away among the trees, half +running, half sliding over the smooth, icy covering of the snow. +After him came warriors and some Tories who had put on their snowshoes +preparatory to the search through the forest for shelter. Several +bullets were fired, but he was too far away for a good aim. He heard one +go zip against a tree, and another cut the surface of the ice near him, +but none touched him, and he sped easily on his snowshoes through the +frozen forest. But Henry was fully aware of one thing that constituted +his greatest danger. Many of these Iroquois had been trained all +their lives to snowshoes, while he, however powerful and agile, was +comparatively a beginner. He glanced back again and saw their dusky +figures running among the trees, but they did not seem to be gaining. If +one should draw too near, there was his rifle, and no man, white or red, +in the northern or southern forests, could use it better. But for the +present it was not needed. He pressed it closely, almost lovingly, to +his side, this best friend of the scout and frontiersman. + +He had chosen his course at the first leap. It was southward, toward +the lake, and he did not make the mistake of diverging from his line, +knowing that some part of the wide half circle of his pursuers would +profit by it. + +Henry felt a great upward surge. He had been the victor in what he +meant to achieve, and he was sure that he would escape. The cold wind, +whistling by, whipped his blood and added new strength to his great +muscles. His ankles were not chafed or sore, and he sped forward on the +snowshoes, straight and true. Whenever he came to a hill the pursuers +would gain as he went up it, but when he went down the other side it +was he who gained. He passed brooks, creeks, and once a small river, +but they were frozen over, many inches deep, and he did not notice them. +Again it was a lake a mile wide, but the smooth surface there merely +increased his speed. Always he kept a wary look ahead for thickets +through which he could not pass easily, and once he sent back a shout of +defiance, which the Iroquois answered with a yell of anger. + +He was fully aware that any accident to his snowshoes would prove fatal, +the slipping of the thongs on his ankles or the breaking of a runner +would end his flight, and in a long chase such an accident might happen. +It might happen, too, to one or more of the Iroquois, but plenty of them +would be left. Yet Henry had supreme confidence in his snowshoes. He had +made them himself, he had seen that every part was good, and every thong +had been fastened with care. + +The wind which bad been roaring so loudly at the time of the fire sank +to nothing. The leafless trees stood up, the branches unmoving. The +forest was bare and deserted. All the animals, big and little, had gone +into their lairs. Nobody witnessed the great pursuit save pursuers and +pursued. Henry kept his direction clear in his mind, and allowed the +Iroquois to take no advantage of a curve save once. Then he came to a +thicket so large that he was compelled to make a considerable circle to +pass it. He turned to the right, hence the Indians on the right gained, +and they sent up a yell of delight. He replied defiantly and increased +his speed. + +But one of the Indians, a flying Mohawk, had come dangerously near-near +enough, in fact, to fire a bullet that did not miss the fugitive much. +It aroused Henry's anger. He took it as an indignity rather than a +danger, and he resolved to avenge it. So far as firing was concerned, he +was at a disadvantage. He must stop and turn around for his shot, while +the Iroquois, without even checking speed, could fire straight at the +flying target, ahead. + +Nevertheless, he took the chance. He turned deftly on the snowshoes, +fired as quick as lightning at the swift Mohawk, saw him fall, then +Whirled and resumed his flight. He had lost ground, but he had inspired +respect. A single man could not afford to come too near to a marksman so +deadly, and the three or four who led dropped back with the main body. + +Now Henry made his greatest effort. He wished to leave the foe far +behind, to shake off his pursuit entirely. He bounded over the ice +and snow with great leaps, and began to gain. Yet he felt at last the +effects of so strenuous a flight. His breath became shorter; despite +the intense cold, perspiration stood upon his face, and the straps that +fastened the snowshoes were chafing his ankles. An end must come even to +such strength as his. Another backward look, and he saw that the foe was +sinking into the darkness. If he could only increase his speed again, he +might leave the Iroquois now. He made a new call upon the will, and +the body responded. For a few minutes his speed became greater. A +disappointed shout arose behind him, and several shots were fired. But +the bullets fell a hundred yards short, and then, as he passed over a +little hill and into a wood beyond, he was hidden from the sight of his +pursuers. + +Henry knew that the Iroquois could trail him over the snow, but they +could not do it at full speed, and he turned sharply off at an angle. +Pausing a second or two for fresh breath, he continued on his new +course, although not so fast as before. He knew that the Iroquois would +rush straight ahead, and would not discover for two or three minutes +that they were off the trail. It would take them another two or three +minutes to recover, and he would make a gain of at least five minutes. +Five minutes had saved the life of many a man on the border. + +How precious those five minutes were! He would take them all. He ran +forward some distance, stopped where the trees grew thick, and then +enjoyed the golden five, minute by minute. He had felt that he +was pumping the very lifeblood from his heart. His breath had come +painfully, and the thongs of the snowshoes were chafing his ankles +terribly. But those minutes were worth a year. Fresh air poured into his +lungs, and the muscles became elastic once more. In so brief a space he +had recreated himself. + +Resuming his flight, he went at a steady pace, resolved not to do his +utmost unless the enemy came in sight. About ten minutes later he heard +a cry far behind him, and he believed it to be a signal from some Indian +to the others that the trail was found again. But with so much advantage +he felt sure that he was now quite safe. He ran, although at decreased +speed, for about two hours more, and then he sat down on the upthrust +root of a great oak. Here he depended most upon his ears. The forest was +so silent that he could hear any noise at a great distance, but there +was none. Trusting to his ears to warn him, he would remain there a long +time for a thorough rest. He even dared to take off his snowshoes that +he might rub his sore ankles, but he wrapped his heavy blanket about his +body, lest he take deep cold in cooling off in such a temperature after +so long a flight. + +He sat enjoying a half hour, golden like the five minutes, and then he +saw, outlined against the bright, moonlit sky, something that told him +he must be on the alert again. It was a single ring of smoke, like that +from a cigar, only far greater. It rose steadily, untroubled by wind +until it was dissipated. It meant “attention!” and presently it was +followed by a column of such rings, one following another beautifully. +The column said: “The foe is near.” Henry read the Indian signs +perfectly. The rings were made by covering a little fire with a blanket +for a moment and then allowing the smoke to ascend. On clear days such +signals could be seen a distance of thirty miles or more, and he knew +that they were full of significance. + +Evidently the Iroquois party had divided into two or more bands. One had +found his trail, and was signaling to the other. The party sending up +the smoke might be a half mile away, but the others, although his trail +was yet hidden from them, might be nearer. It was again time for flight. + +He swiftly put on the snowshoes, neglecting no thong or lace, folded the +blanket on his back again, and, leaving the friendly root, started +once more. He ran forward at moderate speed for perhaps a mile, when he +suddenly heard triumphant yells on both right and left. A strong party +of Iroquois were coming up on either side, and luck had enabled them to +catch him in a trap. + +They were so near that they fired upon him, and one bullet nicked his +glove, but he was hopeful that after his long rest he might again stave +them off. He sent back no defiant cry, but, settling into determined +silence, ran at his utmost speed. The forest here was of large trees, +with no undergrowth, and he noticed that the two parties did not join, +but kept on as they had come, one on the right and the other on the +left. This fact must have some significance, but he could not fathom +it. Neither could he guess whether the Indians were fresh or tired, but +apparently they made no effort to come within range of his rifle. + +Presently he made a fresh spurt of speed, the forest opened out, and +then both bands uttered a yell full of ferocity and joy, the kind that +savages utter only when they see their triumph complete. + +Before, and far below Henry, stretched a vast, white expanse. He had +come to the lake, but at a point where the cliff rose high like a +mountain, and steep like a wall. The surface of the lake was so far down +that it was misty white like a cloud. Now he understood the policy of +the Indian bands in not uniting. They knew that they would soon reach +the lofty cliffs of the lake, and if he turned to either right or left +there was a band ready to seize him. + +Henry's heart leaped up and then sank lower than ever before in his +life. It seemed that he could not escape from so complete a trap, and +Braxton Wyatt was not one who would spare a prisoner. That was perhaps +the bitterest thing of all, to be taken and tortured by Braxton Wyatt. +He was there. He could hear his voice in one of the bands, and then the +courage that never failed him burst into fire again. + +The Iroquois were coming toward him, shutting him out from retreat +to either right or left, but not yet closing in because of his deadly +rifle. He gave them a single look, put forth his voice in one great cry +of defiance, and, rushing toward the edge of the mighty cliff, sprang +boldly over. + +As Henry plunged downward he heard behind him a shout of amazement and +chagrin poured forth from many Iroquois throats, and, taking a single +glance backward, he caught a glimpse of dusky faces stamped with awe. +But the bold youth had not made a leap to destruction. In the passage +of a second he had calculated rapidly and well. While the cliff at +first glance seemed perpendicular, it could not be so. There was a slope +coated with two feet of snow, and swinging far back on the heels of +his snowshoes, he shot downward like one taking a tremendous slide on +a toboggan. Faster and faster he went, but deeper and deeper he dug his +shoes into the snow, until he lay back almost flat against its surface. +This checked his speed somewhat, but it was still very great, and, +preserving his self-control perfectly, he prayed aloud to kindly +Providence to save him from some great boulder or abrupt drop. + +The snow from his runners flew in a continuous shower behind him as he +descended. Yet he drew himself compactly together, and held his rifle +parallel with his body. Once or twice, as he went over a little ridge, +he shot clear of the snow, but he held his body rigid, and the snow +beyond saved him from a severe bruise. Then his speed was increased +again, and all the time the white surface of the lake below, seen dimly +through the night and his flight, seemed miles away. + +He might never reach that surface alive, but of one thing lie was sure. +None of the Iroquois or Tories had dared to follow. Braxton Wyatt could +have no triumph over him. He was alone in his great flight. Once a +projection caused him to turn a little to one side. He was in momentary +danger of turning entirely, and then of rolling head over heels like +a huge snowball, but with a mighty effort he righted himself, and +continued the descent on the runners, with the heels plowing into the +ice and the snow. + +Now that white expanse which had seemed so far away came miles nearer. +Presently he would be there. The impossible had become possible, the +unattainable was about to be attained. He gave another mighty dig with +his shoes, the last reach of the slope passed behind him, and he shot +out on the frozen surface of the lake, bruised and breathless, but +without a single broken bone. + +The lake was covered with ice a foot thick, and over this lay frozen +snow, which stopped Henry forty or fifty yards from the cliff. There he +lost his balance at last, and fell on his side, where he lay for a few +moments, weak, panting, but triumphant. + +When he stood upright again he felt his body, but he had suffered +nothing save some bruises, that would heal in their own good time. His +deerskin clothing was much torn, particularly on the back, where he had +leaned upon the ice and snow, but the folded blanket had saved him to a +considerable extent. One of his shoes was pulled loose, and presently he +discovered that his left ankle was smarting and burning at a great rate. +But he did not mind these things at all, so complete was his sense of +victory. He looked up at the mighty white wall that stretched above him +fifteen hundred feet, and he wondered at his own tremendous exploit. +The wall ran away for miles, and the Iroquois could not reach him by any +easier path. He tried to make out figures on the brink looking down at +him, but it was too far away, and he saw only a black line. + +He tightened the loose shoe and struck out across the lake. He was far +away from “The Alcove,” and he did not intend to go there, lest the +Iroquois, by chance, come upon his trail and follow it to the refuge. +But as it was no more than two miles across the lake at that point, and +the Iroquois would have to make a great curve to reach the other side, +he felt perfectly safe. He walked slowly across, conscious all the +time of an increasing pain in his left ankle, which must now be badly +swollen, and he did not stop until he penetrated some distance among low +bills. Here, under an overhanging cliff with thick bushes in front, he +found a partial shelter, which he cleared out yet further. Then with +infinite patience he built a fire with splinters that he cut from dead +boughs, hung his blanket in front of it on two sticks that the flame +might not be seen, took off his snowshoes, leggins, and socks, and bared +his ankles. Both were swollen, but the left much more badly than the +other. He doubted whether he would be able to walk on the following day, +but he rubbed them a long time, both with the palms of his hands and +with snow, until they felt better. Then he replaced his clothing, leaned +back against the faithful snowshoes which had saved his life, however +much they had hurt his ankles, and gave himself up to the warmth of the +fire. + +It was very luxurious, this warmth and this rest, after so long and +terrible a flight, and he was conscious of a great relaxation, one +which, if he yielded to it completely, would make his muscles so stiff +and painful that he could not use them. Hence he stretched his arms and +legs many times, rubbed his ankles again, and then, remembering that he +had venison, ate several strips. + +He knew that he had taken a little risk with the fire, but a fire he was +bound to have, and he fed it again until he had a great mass of glowing +coals, although there was no blaze. Then he took down the blanket, +wrapped himself in it, and was soon asleep before the fire. He slept +long and deeply, and although, when he awoke, the day had fully come, +the coals were not yet out entirely. He arose, but such a violent pain +from his left ankle shot through him that he abruptly sat down again. As +he bad feared, it had swollen badly during the night, and he could not +walk. + +In this emergency Henry displayed no petulance, no striving against +unchangeable circumstance. He drew up more wood, which he had stacked +against the cliff, and put it on the coals. He hung up the blanket once +more in order that it might hide the fire, stretched out his lame leg, +and calmly made a breakfast off the last of his venison. He knew he was +in a plight that might appall the bravest, but he kept himself in +hand. It was likely that the Iroquois thought him dead, crushed into a +shapeless mass by his frightful slide of fifteen hundred feet, and he +had little fear of them, but to be unable to walk and alone in an icy +wilderness without food was sufficient in itself. He calculated that +it was at least a dozen miles to “The Alcove,” and the chances were a +hundred to one against any of his comrades wandering his way. He looked +once more at his swollen left ankle, and he made a close calculation. +It would be three days, more likely four, before he could walk upon it. +Could he endure hunger that long? He could. He would! Crouched in his +nest with his back to the cliff, he had defense against any enemy in +his rifle and pistol. By faithful watching he might catch sight of some +wandering animal, a target for his rifle and then food for his stomach. +His wilderness wisdom warned him that there was nothing to do but sit +quiet and wait. + +He scarcely moved for hours. As long as he was still his ankle troubled +him but little. The sun came out, silver bright, but it had no warmth. +The surface of the lake was shown only by the smoothness of its expanse; +the icy covering was the same everywhere over hills and valleys. Across +the lake he saw the steep down which he had slid, looming white and +lofty. In the distance it looked perpendicular, and, whatever its +terrors, it had, beyond a doubt, saved his life. He glanced down at his +swollen ankle, and, despite his helpless situation, he was thankful that +he had escaped so well. + +About noon he moved enough to throw up the snowbanks higher all around +himself in the fashion of an Eskimos house. Then he let the fire die +except some coals that gave forth no smoke, stretched the blanket over +his head in the manner of a roof, and once more resumed his quiet and +stillness. He was now like a crippled animal in its lair, but he was +warm, and his wound did not hurt him. But hunger began to trouble him. +He was young and so powerful that his frame demanded much sustenance. +Now it cried aloud its need! He ate two or three handfuls of snow, and +for a few moments it seemed to help him a little, but his hunger soon +came back as strong as ever. Then he tightened his belt and sat in grim +silence, trying to forget that there was any such thing as food. + +The effort of the will was almost a success throughout the afternoon, +but before night it failed. He began to have roseate visions of Long Jim +trying venison, wild duck, bear, and buffalo steaks over the coals. He +could sniff the aroma, so powerful had his imagination become, and, +in fancy, his month watered, while its roof was really dry. They were +daylight visions, and he knew it well, but they taunted him and made his +pain fiercer. He slid forward a little to the mouth of his shelter, and +thrust out his rifle in the hope that he would see some wild creature, +no matter what; he felt that he could shoot it at any distance, and then +he would feast! + +He saw nothing living, either on earth or in the air, only motionless +white, and beyond, showing but faintly now through the coming twilight, +the lofty cliff that had saved him. + +He drew back into his lair, and the darkness came down. Despite his +hunger, he slept fairly well. In the night a little snow fell at times, +but his blanket roof protected him, and he remained dry and warm. The +new snow was, in a way, a satisfaction, as it completely hid his trail +from the glance of any wandering Indian. He awoke the next morning to +a gray, somber day, with piercing winds from the northwest. He did not +feel the pangs of hunger until he had been awake about a half hour, and +then they came with redoubled force. Moreover, he had become weaker in +the night, and, added to the loss of muscular strength, was a decrease +in the power of the will. Hunger was eating away his mental as well as +his physical fiber. He did not face the situation with quite the same +confidence that he felt the day before. The wilderness looked a little +more threatening. + +His lips felt as if he were suffering from fever, and his shoulders and +back were stiff. But he drew his belt tighter again, and then uncovered +his left ankle. The swelling had gone down a little, and he could move +it with more freedom than on the day before, but he could not yet walk. +Once more he made his grim calculation. In two days he could certainly +walk and hunt game or make a try for “The Alcove,” so far as his ankle +was concerned, but would hunger overpower him before that time? Gaining +strength in one direction, he was losing it in another. + +Now he began to grow angry with himself. The light inroad that famine +made upon his will was telling. It seemed incredible that he, so +powerful, so skillful, so self reliant, so long used to the wilderness +and to every manner of hardship, should be held there in a snowbank by +a bruised ankle to die like a crippled rabbit. His comrades could not be +more than ten miles away. He could walk. He would walk! He stood upright +and stepped out into the snow, but pain, so agonizing that he could +scarcely keep from crying out, shot through his whole body, and he sank +back into the shelter, sure not to make such an experiment again for +another full day. + +The day passed much like its predecessor, except that he took down the +blanket cover of his snow hut and kindled up his fire again, more for +the sake of cheerfulness than for warmth, because he was not suffering +from cold. There was a certain life and light about the coals and the +bright flame, but the relief did not last long, and by and by he let it +go out. Then be devoted himself to watching the heavens and the surface +of the snow. Some winter bird, duck or goose, might be flying by, or a +wandering deer might be passing. He must not lose any such chance. He +was more than ever a fierce creature of prey, sitting at the mouth of +his den, the rifle across his knee, his tanned face so thin that the +cheek bones showed high and sharp, his eyes bright with fever and the +fierce desire for prey, and the long, lean body drawn forward as if it +were about to leap. + +He thought often of dragging himself down to the lake, breaking a hole +in the ice, and trying to fish, but the idea invariably came only to be +abandoned. He had neither hook nor bait. In the afternoon he chewed the +edge of his buckskin hunting shirt, but it was too thoroughly tanned +and dry. It gave back no sustenance. He abandoned the experiment and lay +still for a long time. + +That night he had a slight touch of frenzy, and began to laugh at +himself. It was a huge joke! What would Timmendiquas or Thayendanegea +think of him if they knew how he came to his end? They would put him +with old squaws or little children. And how Braxton Wyatt and his +lieutenant, the squat Tory, would laugh! That was the bitterest thought +of all. But the frenzy passed, and he fell into a sleep which was only +a succession of bad dreams. He was running the gauntlet again among +the Shawnees. Again, kneeling to drink at the clear pool, he saw in the +water the shadow of the triumphant warrior holding the tomahawk above +him. One after another the most critical periods of his life were lived +over again, and then he sank into a deep torpor, from which he did not +rouse himself until far into the next day. + +Henry was conscious that he was very weak, but he seemed to have +regained much of his lost will. He looked once more at the fatal left +ankle. It had improved greatly. He could even stand upon it, but when he +rose to his feet he felt a singular dizziness. Again, what he had gained +in one way he had lost in another. The earth wavered. The smooth surface +of the lake seemed to rise swiftly, and then to sink as swiftly. The far +slope down which he had shot rose to the height of miles. There was a +pale tinge, too, over the world. He sank down, not because of his ankle, +but because he was afraid his dizzy head would make him fall. + +The power of will slipped away again for a minute or two. He was ashamed +of such extraordinary weakness. He looked at one of his hands. It was +thin, like the band of a man wasted with fever, and the blue veins stood +out on the back of it. He could scarcely believe that the hand was his +own. But after the first spasm of weakness was over, the precious will +returned. He could walk. Strength enough to permit him to hobble along +had returned to the ankle at last, and mind must control the rest of his +nervous system, however weakened it might be. He must seek food. + +He withdrew into the farthest recess of his covert, wrapped the blanket +tightly about his body, and lay still for a long time. He was preparing +both mind and body for the supreme effort. He knew that everything hung +now on the surviving remnants of his skill and courage. + +Weakened by shock and several days of fasting, he had no great reserve +now except the mental, and he used that to the utmost. It was proof of +his youthful greatness that it stood the last test. As he lay there, +the final ounce of will and courage came. Strength which was of the mind +rather than of the body flowed back into his veins; he felt able to dare +and to do; the pale aspect of the world went away, and once more he was +Henry Ware, alert, skillful, and always triumphant. + +Then he rose again, folded the blanket, and fastened it on his +shoulders. He looked at the snowshoes, but decided that his left ankle, +despite its great improvement, would not stand the strain. He must +break his way through the snow, which was a full three feet in depth. +Fortunately the crust had softened somewhat in the last two or three +days, and he did not have a covering of ice to meet. + +He pushed his way for the first time from the lair under the cliff, his +rifle held in his ready hands, in order that he might miss no chance at +game. To an ordinary observer there would have been no such chance at +all. It was merely a grim white wilderness that might have been without +anything living from the beginning. But Henry, the forest runner, knew +better. Somewhere in the snow were lairs much like the one that he had +left, and in these lairs were wild animals. To any such wild animal, +whether panther or bear, the hunter would now have been a fearsome +object, with his hollow cheeks, his sunken fiery eyes, and his thin lips +opening now and then, and disclosing the two rows of strong white teeth. + +Henry advanced about a rod, and then he stopped, breathing hard, because +it was desperate work for one in his condition to break his way through +snow so deep. But his ankle stood the strain well, and his courage +increased rather than diminished. He was no longer a cripple confined +to one spot. While he stood resting, he noticed a clump of bushes about +half a rod to his left, and a hopeful idea came to him. + +He broke his way slowly to the bushes, and then he searched carefully +among them. The snow was not nearly so thick there, and under the +thickest clump, where the shelter was best, he saw a small round +opening. In an instant all his old vigorous life, all the abounding hope +which was such a strong characteristic of his nature, came back to him. +Already he had triumphed over Indians, Tories, the mighty slope, snow, +ice, crippling, and starvation. + +He laid the rifle on the snow and took the ramrod in his right hand. He +thrust his left hand into the hole, and when the rabbit leaped for life +from his warm nest a smart blow of the ramrod stretched him dead at the +feet of the hunter. Henry picked up the rabbit. It was large and yet +fat. Here was food for two meals. In the race between the ankle and +starvation, the ankle had won. + +He did not give way to any unseemly elation. He even felt a momentary +sorrow that a life must perish to save his own, because all these wild +things were his kindred now. He returned by the path that he had broken, +kindled his fire anew, dexterously skinned and cleaned his rabbit, +then cooked it and ate half, although he ate slowly and with intervals +between each piece. How delicious it tasted, and how his physical being +longed to leap upon it and devour it, but the power of the mind was +still supreme. He knew what was good for himself, and he did it. +Everything was done in order and with sobriety. Then he put the rest of +the rabbit carefully in his food pouch, wrapped the blanket about his +body, leaned back, and stretched his feet to the coals. + +What an extraordinary change had come over the world in an hour! He had +not noticed before the great beauty of the lake, the lofty cliffs on the +farther shore, and the forest clothed in white and hanging with icicles. + +The winter sunshine was molten silver, pouring down in a flood. + +It was not will now, but actuality, that made him feel the strength +returning to his frame. He knew that the blood in his veins had begun +to sparkle, and that his vitality was rising fast. He could have gone +to sleep peacefully, but instead he went forth and hunted again. He +knew that where the rabbit had been, others were likely to be near, and +before he returned he had secured two more. Both of these he cleaned and +cooked at once. When this was done night had come, but he ate again, +and then, securing all his treasures about him, fell into the best sleep +that he had enjoyed since his flight. + +He felt very strong the next morning, and he might have started then, +but he was prudent. There was still a chance of meeting the Iroquois, +and the ankle might not stand so severe a test. He would rest in his +nest for another day, and then he would be equal to anything. Few could +lie a whole day in one place with but little to do and with nothing +passing before the eyes, but it was a part of Henry's wilderness +training, and he showed all the patience of the forester. He knew, +too, as the hours went by, that his strength was rising all the while. +To-morrow almost the last soreness would be gone from his ankle and +then he could glide swiftly over the snow, back to his comrades. He +was content. He had, in fact, a sense of great triumph because he had +overcome so much, and here was new food in this example for future +efforts of the mind, for future victories of the will over the body. The +wintry sun came to the zenith, then passed slowly down the curve, but +all the time the boy scarcely stirred. Once there was a flight of small +birds across the heavens, and he watched them vaguely, but apparently he +took no interest. Toward night he stood up in his recess and flexed and +tuned his muscles for a long time, driving out any stiffness that might +come through long lack of motion. Then he ate and lay down, but he did +not yet sleep. + +The night was clear, and he looked away toward the point where he knew +“The Alcove” lay. A good moon was now shining, and stars by the score +were springing out. Suddenly at a point on that far shore a spark of red +light appeared and twinkled. Most persons would have taken it for some +low star, but Henry knew better. It was fire put there by human hand for +a purpose, doubtless a signal, and as he looked a second spark appeared +by the first, then a third, then a fourth. He uttered a great sigh of +pleasure. It was his four friends signaling to him somewhere in the vast +unknown that they were alive and well, and beckoning him to come. The +lights burned for fifteen or twenty minutes, and then all went out +together. Henry turned over on his side and fell sound asleep. In the +morning he put on his snowshoes and started. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. THE SAFE RETURN + + +The surface of the snow had frozen again in the night, and Henry found +good footing for his shoes. For a while he leaned most on the right +ankle, but, as his left developed no signs of soreness, he used them +equally, and sped forward, his spirits rising at every step. The air was +cold, and there was but little breeze, but his own motion made a wind +that whipped his face. The hollows were mostly gone from his cheeks, and +his eyes no longer had the fierce, questing look of the famishing wild +animal in search of prey. A fine red color was suffused through the +brown of his face. He had chosen his course with due precaution. The +broad surface, smooth, white, and glittering, tempted, but he put the +temptation away. He did not wish to run any chance whatever of another +Iroquois pursuit, and he kept in the forest that ran down close to the +water's edge. It was tougher traveling there, but he persisted. + +But all thought of weariness and trouble was lost in his glorious +freedom. With his crippled ankle he had been really like a prisoner in +his cell, with a ball and chain to his foot. Now he flew along, while +the cold wind whipped his blood, and felt what a delight it was merely +to live. He went on thus for hours, skirting down toward the cliffs that +contained “The Alcove.” He rested a while in the afternoon and ate the +last of his rabbit, but before twilight he reached the creek, and stood +at the hidden path that led up to their home. + +Henry sat down behind thick bushes and took off his snowshoes. To one +who had never come before, the whole place would have seemed absolutely +desolate, and even to one not a stranger no sign of life would have been +visible had he not possessed uncommonly keen eyes. But Henry had such +eyes. He saw the faintest wisp of smoke stealing away against the +surface of the cliff, and he felt confident that all four were there. He +resolved to surprise them. + +Laying the shoes aside, he crept so carefully up the path that he +dislodged no snow and made no noise of any kind. As he gradually +approached “The Alcove” he beard the murmur of voices, and presently, as +he turned an angle in the path, he saw a beam of glorious mellow light +falling on the snow. + +But the murmur of the voices sent a great thrill of delight through him. +Low and indistinct as they were, they had a familiar sound. He knew all +those tones. They were the voices of his faithful comrades, the four who +had gone with him through so many perils and hardships, the little band +who with himself were ready to die at any time, one for another. + +He crept a little closer, and then a little closer still. Lying almost +flat on the steep path, and drawing himself forward, he looked into “The +Alcove.” A fire of deep, red coals glowed in one corner, and disposed +about it were the four. Paul lay on his elbow on a deerskin, and was +gazing into the coals. Tom Ross was working on a pair of moccasins, Long +Jim was making some kind of kitchen implement, and Shif'less Sol was +talking. Henry could hear the words distinctly, and they were about +himself. + +“Henry will turn up all right,” he was saying. “Hasn't he always done it +afore? Then ef he's always done it afore he's shorely not goin' to break +his rule now. I tell you, boys, thar ain't enough Injuns an' Tories +between Canady an' New Orleans, an' the Mississippi an' the Atlantic, to +ketch Henry. I bet I could guess what he's doin' right at this moment.” + +“What is he doing, Sol?” asked Paul. + +“When I shet my eyes ez I'm doin' now I kin see him,” said the shiftless +one. “He's away off thar toward the north, skirtin' around an Injun +village, Mohawk most likely, lookin' an' listenin' an' gatherin' talk +about their plans.” + +“He ain't doin' any sech thing,” broke in Long Jim. + +“I've sleet my eyes, too, Sol Hyde, jest ez tight ez you've shet yours, +an' I see him, too, but he ain't doin' any uv the things that you're +talkin' about.” + +“What is he doing, Jim?” asked Paul. + +“Henry's away off to the south, not to the north,” replied the long one, +“an' he's in the Iroquois village that we burned. One house has been +left standin', an' he's been occupyin' it while the big snow's on the +groun'. A whole deer is hangin' from the wall, an' he's been settin' +thar fur days, eatin' so much an' hevin' such a good time that the fat's +hangin' down over his cheeks, an' his whole body is threatenin' to bust +right out uv his huntin' shirt.” + +Paul moved a little on his elbow and turned the other side of his face +to the fire. Then he glanced at the silent worker with the moccasins. + +“Sol and Jim don't seem to agree much in their second sight,” he said. +“Can you have any vision, too, Tom?” + +“Yes,” replied Tom Ross, “I kin. I shet my eyes, but I don't see like +either Sol or Jim, 'cause both uv 'em see wrong. I see Henry, an' I see +him plain. He's had a pow'ful tough time. He ain't threatenin' to bust +with fat out uv no huntin' shirt, his cheeks ain't so full that they are +fallin' down over his jaws. It's t'other way roun'; them cheeks are sunk +a mite, he don't fill out his clothes, an' when he crawls along he drags +his left leg a leetle, though he hides it from hisself. He ain't spyin' +on no Injun village, an' he ain't in no snug camp with a dressed deer +hangin' by the side uv him. It's t'other way 'roan'. He's layin' almost +flat on his face not twenty feet from us, lookin' right in at us, an' I +wuz the first to see him.” + +All the others sprang to their feet in astonishment, and Henry likewise +sprang to his feet. Three leaps, and he was in the mellow glow. + + +“And so you saw me, Tom,” he exclaimed, as he joyously grasped one hand +after another. “I might have known that, while I could stalk some of +you, I could not stalk all of you.” + +“I caught the glimpse uv you,” said Silent Tom, “while Sol an' Jim wuz +talkin' the foolish talk that they most always talk, an' when Paul +called on me, I thought I would give 'em a dream that 'wuz true, an' +worth tellin'.” + +“You're right,” said Henry. “I've not been having any easy time, and for +a while, boys, it looked as if I never would come back. Sit down, and I +will tell you all about it.” + +They gave him the warmest place by the fire, brought him the tenderest +food, and he told the long and thrilling tale. + +“I don't believe anybody else but you would have tried it, Henry,” said +Paul, when they heard of the fearful slide. + +“Any one of you would have done it,” said Henry, modestly. + +“I'm pow'ful glad that you done it for two reasons,” said Shif'less +Sol. “One, 'cause it helped you to git away, an' the other, 'cause +that scoundrel, Braxton Wyatt, didn't take you. 'Twould hurt my pride +tre-men-jeous for any uv us to be took by Braxton Wyatt.” + +“You speak for us all there, Sol,” said Paul. + +“What have all of you been doing?” asked Henry. + +“Not much of anything,” replied Shif'less Sol. “We've been scoutin' +several times, lookin' fur you, though we knowed you'd come in some time +or other, but mostly we've been workin' 'roun' the place here, fixin' it +up warmer an' storin' away food.” + +“We'll have to continue at that for some time, I'm afraid,” said Henry, +“unless this snow breaks up. Have any of you heard if any movement is +yet on foot against the Iroquois?” + +“Tom ran across some scouts from the militia,” replied Paul, “and they +said nothing could be done until warm weather came. Then a real army +would march.” + +“I hope so,” said Henry earnestly. + +But for the present the five could achieve little. The snow lasted a +long time, but it was finally swept away by big rains. It poured for +two days and nights, and even when the rain ceased the snow continued to +melt under the warmer air. The water rushed in great torrents down +the cliffs, and would have entered “The Alcove” had not the five made +provision to turn it away. As it was, they sat snug and dry, listening +to the gush of the water, the sign of falling snow, and the talk of one +another. Yet the time dragged. + +“Man wuz never made to be a caged animile,” said Shif'less Sol. “The +longer I stay shet up in one place, the weaker I become. My temper don't +improve, neither, an' I ain't happy.” + +“Guess it's the same with all uv us,” said Tom Ross. + +But when the earth came from beneath the snow, although it was still +cold weather, they began again to range the forest far in every +direction, and they found that the Indians, and the Tories also, were +becoming active. There were more burnings, more slaughters, and more +scalpings. The whole border was still appalled at the massacres of +Wyoming and Cherry Valley, and the savages were continually spreading +over a wider area. Braxton Wyatt at the head of his band, and with the +aid of his Tory lieutenant, Levi Coleman, had made for himself a name +equal to that of Walter Butler. As for “Indian” Butler and his men, no +men were hated more thoroughly than they. + +The five continued to do the best they could, which was much, carrying +many a warning, and saving some who would otherwise have been victims. +While they devoted themselves to their strenuous task, great events in +which they were to take a part were preparing. The rear guard of the +Revolution was about to become for the time the main guard. A great eye +had been turned upon the ravaged and bleeding border, and a great +mind, which could bear misfortune-even disaster-without complaint, +was preparing to send help to those farther away. So mighty a cry of +distress had risen, that the power of the Iroquois must be destroyed. As +the warm weather came, the soldiers began to march. + +Rumors that a formidable foe was about to advance reached the Iroquois +and their allies, the Tories, the English, and the Canadians. There +was a great stirring among the leaders, Thayendanegea, Hiokatoo, +Sangerachte, the Johnsons, the Butlers, Claus, and the rest. Haldimand, +the king's representative in Canada, sent forth an urgent call to all +the Iroquois to meet the enemy. The Tories were' extremely active. +Promises were made to the tribes that they should have other victories +even greater than those of Wyoming and Cherry Valley, and again the +terrible Queen Esther went among them, swinging her great war tomahawk +over her head and chanting her song of death. She, more than any other, +inflamed the Iroquois, and they were eager for the coming contest. + +Timmendiquas had gone back to the Ohio country in the winter, but, +faithful to his promise to give Thayendanegea help to the last, he +returned in the spring with a hundred chosen warriors of the Wyandot +nation, a reenforcement the value of which could not be estimated too +highly. + +Henry and his comrades felt the stir as they roamed through the forest, +and they thrilled at the thought that the crisis was approaching. Then +they set out for Lake Otsego, where the army was gathering for the great +campaign. They were equipped thoroughly, and they were now so well known +in the region that they knew they would be welcome. + +They traveled several days, and were preparing to encamp for the last +night within about fifteen miles of the lake when Henry, scouting as +usual to see if an enemy were near, heard a footstep in the forest. He +wheeled instantly to cover behind the body of a great beech tree, and +the stranger sought to do likewise, only he had no convenient tree +that was so large. It was about the twelfth hour, but Henry could see a +portion of a body protruding beyond a slim oak, and he believed that he +recognized it. As he held the advantage he would, at any rate, hail the +stranger. + +“Ho, Cornelius Heemskerk, Dutchman, fat man, great scout and woodsman, +what are you doing in my wilderness? Stand forth at once and give an +account of yourself, or I will shoot off the part of your body that +sticks beyond that oak tree!” + +The answer was instantaneous. A round, plump body revolved from the +partial shelter of the tree and stood upright in the open, rifle in hand +and cap thrown back from a broad ruddy brow. + +“Ho, Mynheer Henry Ware,” replied Cornelius Heemskerk in a loud, clear +tone, “I am in your woods on perhaps the same errand that you are. Come +from behind that beech and let us see which has the stronger grip.” + +Henry stood forth, and the two clasped hands in a grip so powerful that +both winced. Then they released hands simultaneously, and Heemskerk +asked: + +“And the other four mynheers? Am I wrong to say that they are near, +somewhere?” + +“You are not wrong,” replied Henry. “They are alive, well and hungry, +not a mile from here. There is one man whom they would be very glad to +see, and his name is Cornelius Heemskerk, who is roaming in our woods +without a permit.” + +The round, ruddy face of the Dutchman glowed. It was obvious that he +felt as much delight in seeing Henry as Henry felt in seeing him. + +“My heart swells,” he said. “I feared that you might have been killed or +scalped, or, at the best, have gone back to that far land of Kentucky.” + +“We have wintered well,” said Henry, “in a place of which I shall not +tell you now, and we are here to see the campaign through.” + +“I come, too, for the same purpose,” said Heemskerk. “We shall be +together. It is goot.” “Meanwhile,” said Henry, “our camp fire is +lighted. Jim Hart, whom you have known of old, is cooking strips of meat +over the coals, and, although it is a mile away, the odor of them is +very pleasant in my nostrils. I wish to go back there, and it will be +all the more delightful to me, and to those who wait, if I can bring +with me such a welcome guest.” + +“Lead on, mynheer,” said Cornelius Heemskerk sententiously. + +He received an equally emphatic welcome from the others, and then they +ate and talked. Heemskerk was sanguine. + +“Something will be done this time,” he said. “Word has come from the +great commander that the Iroquois must be crushed. The thousands who +have fallen must be avenged, and this great fire along our border must +be stopped. If it cannot be done, then we perish. We have old tales in +my own country of the cruel deeds that the Spaniards did long, long ago, +but they were not worse than have been done here.” + +The five made no response, but the mind of every one of them traveled +back to Wyoming and all that they had seen there, and the scars and +traces of many more tragedies. + +They reached the camp on Lake Otsego the next day, and Henry saw that +all they had heard was true. The most formidable force that they had +ever seen was gathering. There were many companies in the Continental +buff and blue, epauletted officers, bayonets and cannon. The camp was +full of life, energy, and hope, and the five at once felt the influence +of it. They found here old friends whom they had known in the march on +Oghwaga, William Gray, young Taylor, and others, and they were made very +welcome. They were presented to General James Clinton, then in charge, +received roving commissions as scouts and hunters, and with Heemskerk +and the two celebrated borderers, Timothy Murphy and David Elerson, +they roamed the forest in a great circle about the lake, bringing much +valuable information about the movements of the enemy, who in their turn +were gathering in force, while the royal authorities were dispatching +both Indians and white men from Canada to help them. + +These great scouting expeditions saved the five from much impatience. It +takes a long time for an army to gather and then to equip itself for the +march, and they were so used to swift motion that it was now a part of +their nature. At last the army was ready, and it left the lake. Then it +proceeded in boats down the Tioga flooded to a sufficient depth by an +artificial dam built with immense labor, to its confluence with the +larger river. Here were more men, and the five saw a new commander, +General James Sullivan, take charge of the united force. Then the army, +late in August, began its march upon the Iroquois. + +The five were now in the van, miles ahead of the main guard. They knew +that no important movement of so large a force could escape the notice +of the enemy, but they, with other scouts, made it their duty to see +that the Americans marched into no trap. + +It was now the waning summer. The leaves were lightly touched with +brown, and the grass had begun to wither. Berries were ripening on +the vines, and the quantity of game had increased, the wild animals +returning to the land from which civilized man had disappeared. The +desolation seemed even more complete than in the autumn before. In the +winter and spring the Iroquois and Tories had destroyed the few +remnants of houses that were left. Braxton Wyatt and his band had been +particularly active in this work, and many tales had come of his cruelty +and that of his swart Tory lieutenant, Coleman. Henry was sure, too, +that Wyatt's band, which numbered perhaps fifty Indians and Tories, was +now in front of them. + +He, his comrades, Heemskerk, Elerson, Murphy, and four others, twelve +brave forest runners all told, went into camp one night about ten miles +ahead of the army. They lighted no fire, and, even had it been cold, +they would not have done so, as the region was far too dangerous for any +light. Yet the little band felt no fear. They were only twelve, it is +true, but such a twelve! No chance would either Indians or Tories have +to surprise them. + +They merely lay down in the thick brushwood, three intending to keep +watch while the others slept. Henry, Shif'less Sol, and Heemskerk were +the sentinels. It was very late, nearly midnight; the sky was clear, and +presently they saw smoke rings ascending from high hills to their right, +to be answered soon by other rings of smoke to their left. The three +watched them with but little comment, and read every signal in turn. +They said: “The enemy is still advancing,” “He is too strong for +us...... We must retreat and await our brethren.” + +“It means that there will be no battle to-morrow, at least,” whispered +Heemskerk. “Brant is probably ahead of us in command, and he will avoid +us until he receives the fresh forces from Canada.” + +“I take it that you're right,” Henry whispered back. “Timmendiquas also +is with him, and the two great chiefs are too cunning to fight until +they can bring their last man into action.” + +“An' then,” said the shiftless one, “we'll see what happens.” + +“Yes,” said Henry very gravely, “we'll see what happens. The Iroquois +are a powerful confederacy. They've ruled in these woods for hundreds +of years. They're led by great chiefs, and they're helped by our white +enemies. You can't tell what would happen even to an army like ours in +an ambush.” + +Shif'less Sol nodded, and they said no more until an hour later, when +they heard footsteps. They awakened the others, and the twelve, crawling +to the edge of the brushwood, lay almost flat upon their faces, with +their hands upon the triggers of their rifles. + +Braxton Wyatt and his band of nearly threescore, Indians and Tories in +about equal numbers, were passing. Wyatt walked at the head. Despite his +youth, he had acquired an air of command, and he seemed a fit leader +for such a crew. He wore a faded royal uniform, and, while a small sword +hung at his side, he also carried a rifle on his shoulder. Close behind +him was the swart and squat Tory, Coleman, and then came Indians and +Tories together. + +The watchful eyes of Henry saw three fresh scalps hanging from as many +belts, and the finger that lay upon the trigger of his rifle fairly +ached to press it. What an opportunity this would be if the twelve were +only forty, or even thirty! With the advantage of surprise they might +hope to annihilate this band which had won such hate for itself on the +border. But twelve were not enough and twelve such lives could not be +spared at a time when the army needed them most. + +Henry pressed his teeth firmly together in order to keep down his +disappointment by a mere physical act if possible. He happened to look +at Shif'less Sol, and saw that his teeth were pressed together in the +same manner. It is probable that like feelings swayed every one of the +twelve, but they were so still in the brushwood that no Iroquois heard +grass or leaf rustle. Thus the twelve watched the sixty pass, and +after they were gone, Henry, Shif'less Sol, and Tim Murphy followed for +several miles. They saw Wyatt proceed toward the Chemung River, and as +they approached the stream they beheld signs of fortifications. It was +now nearly daylight, and, as Indians were everywhere, they turned back. +But they were convinced that the enemy meant to fight on the Chemung. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. A GLOOMY COUNCIL + + +The next night after Henry Ware and his comrades lay in the brushwood +and saw Braxton Wyatt and his band pass, a number of men, famous or +infamous in their day, were gathered around a low camp fire on the crest +of a small hill. The most distinguished of them all in looks was a young +Indian chief of great height and magnificent build, with a noble and +impressive countenance. He wore nothing of civilized attire, the +nearest approach to it being the rich dark-blue blanket that was flung +gracefully over his right shoulder. It was none other than the great +Wyandot chief, Timmendiquas, saying little, and listening without +expression to the words of the others. + +Near Timmendiquas sat Thayendanegea, dressed as usual in his mixture +of savage and civilized costume, and about him were other famous Indian +chiefs, The Corn Planter, Red jacket, Hiokatoo, Sangerachte, Little +Beard, a young Seneca renowned for ferocity, and others. + +On the other side of the fire sat the white men: the young Sir John +Johnson, who, a prisoner to the Colonials, had broken his oath of +neutrality, the condition of his release, and then, fleeing to Canada, +had returned to wage bloody war on the settlements; his brother-in-law, +Colonel Guy Johnson; the swart and squat John Butler of Wyoming infamy; +his son, Walter Butler, of the pallid face, thin lips, and cruel heart; +the Canadian Captain MacDonald; Braxton Wyatt; his lieutenant, the dark +Tory, Coleman; and some others who had helped to ravage their former +land. + +Sir John Johnson, a tall man with blue eyes set close together, wore the +handsome uniform of his Royal Greens; he had committed many dark deeds +or permitted them to be done by men under his command, and he had +secured the opportunity only through his broken oath, but he had lost +greatly. The vast estates of his father, Sir William Johnson, were being +torn from him, and perhaps he saw, even then, that in return for what he +had done he would lose all and become an exile from the country in which +he was born. + +It was not a cheerful council. There was no exultation as after Wyoming +and Cherry Valley and the Minisink and other places. Sir John bit his +lip uneasily, and his brother-in-law, resting his hand on his knee, +stared gloomily at the fire. The two Butlers were silent, and the dark +face of Thayendanegea was overcast. + +A little distance before these men was a breastwork about half a mile +long, connecting with a bend of the river in such a manner that an enemy +could attack only in front and on one flank, that flank itself being +approached only by the ascent of a steep ridge which ran parallel to the +river. The ground about the camp was covered with pine and scrub oaks. +Many others had been cut down and added to the breastwork. A deep brook +ran at the foot of the hill on which the leaders sat. About the slopes +of this hill and another, a little distance away, sat hundreds of Indian +warriors, all in their war paint, and other hundreds of their white +allies, conspicuous among them Johnson's Royal Greens and Butler's +Rangers. These men made but little noise now. They were resting and +waiting. + +Thayendanegea was the first to break the silence in the group at the +fire. He turned his dark face to Sir John Johnson and said in his +excellent English: “The king promised us that if we would take up arms +for him against the Yankees, he would send a great army, many thousands, +to help us. We believed him, and we took up the hatchet for him. We +fought in the dark and the storm with Herkimer at the Oriskany, and many +of our warriors fell. But we did not sulk in our lodges. We have ravaged +and driven in the whole American border along a line of hundreds of +miles. Now the Congress sends an army to attack us, to avenge what we +have done, and the great forces of the king are not here. I have been +across the sea; I have seen the mighty city of London and its people as +numerous as the blades of grass. Why has not the king kept his promise +and sent men enough to save the Iroquois?” + +Sir John Johnson and Thayendanegea were good friends, but the soul of +the great Mohawk chief was deeply stirred. His penetrating mind saw the +uplifted hand about to strike-and the target was his own people. His +tone became bitterly sarcastic as he spoke, and when he ceased he looked +directly at the baronet in a manner that showed a reply must be given. +Sir John moved uneasily, but he spoke at last. + +“Much that you say is true, Thayendanegea,” he admitted, “but the king +has many things to do. The war is spread over a vast area, and he must +keep his largest armies in the East. But the Royal Greens, the Rangers, +and all others whom we can raise, even in Canada, are here to help you. +In the coming battle your fortunes are our fortunes.” + +Thayendanegea nodded, but he was not yet appeased. His glance fell upon +the two Butlers, father and son, and he frowned. + +“There are many in England itself,” he said, “who wish us harm, and who +perhaps have kept us from receiving some of the help that we ought to +have. They speak of Wyoming and Cherry Valley, of the torture and of +the slaughter of women and children, and they say that war must not +be carried on in such a way. But there are some among us who are more +savage than the savages themselves, as they call us. It was you, John +Butler, who led at Wyoming, and it was you, Walter Butler, who allowed +the women and children to be killed at Cherry Valley, and more would +have been slain there had I not, come up in time.” + +The dark face of “Indian” Butler grew darker, and the pallid face of +his son grew more pallid. Both were angry, and at the same time a little +afraid. + +“We won at Wyoming in fair battle,” said the elder Butler. + +“But afterwards?” said Thayendanegea. + +The man was silent. + +“It is these two places that have so aroused the Bostonians against us,” + continued Thayendanegea. “It is because of them that the commander of +the Bostonians has sent a great army, and the Long House is threatened +with destruction.” + +“My son and I have fought for our common cause,” said “Indian” Butler, +the blood flushing through his swarthy face. + +Sir John Johnson interfered. + +“We have admitted, Joseph, the danger to the Iroquois,” he said, calling +the chieftain familiarly by his first Christian name, “but I and my +brother-in-law and Colonel Butler and Captain Butler have already lost +though we may regain. And with this strong position and the aid of +ambush it is likely that we can defeat the rebels.” + +The eyes of Thayendanegea brightened as he looked at the long +embankment, the trees, and the dark forms of the warriors scattered +numerously here and there. + +“You may be right, Sir John,” he said; “yes, I think you are right, +and by all the gods, red and white, we shall see. I wish to fight here, +because this is the best place in which to meet the Bostonians. What say +you, Timmendiquas, sworn brother of mine, great warrior and great chief +of the Wyandots, the bravest of all the western nations?” + +The eye of Timmendiquas expressed little, but his voice was sonorous, +and his words were such as Thayendanegea wished to hear. + +“If we fight--and we must fight--this is the place in which to meet the +white army,” he said. “The Wyandots are here to help the Iroquois, as +the Iroquois would go to help them. The Manitou of the Wyandots, the +Aieroski of the Iroquois, alone knows the end.” + +He spoke with the utmost gravity, and after his brief reply he said no +more. All regarded him with respect and admiration. Even Braxton Wyatt +felt that it was a noble deed to remain and face destruction for the +sake of tribes not his own. + +Sir John Johnson turned to Braxton Wyatt, who had sat all the while in +silence. + +“You have examined the evening's advance, Wyatt,” he said. “What further +information can you give us?” + +“We shall certainly be attacked to-morrow,” replied Wyatt, “and the +American army is advancing cautiously. It has out strong flanking +parties, and it is preceded by the scouts, those Kentuckians whom I know +and have met often, Murphy, Elerson, Heemskerk, and the others.” + +“If we could only lead them into an ambush,” said Sir John. “Any kind +of troops, even the best of regulars, will give way before an unseen foe +pouring a deadly fire upon them from the deep woods. Then they magnify +the enemy tenfold.” + +“It is so,” said the fierce old Seneca chief, Hiokatoo. “When we killed +Braddock and all his men, they thought that ten warriors stood in the +moccasins of only one.” + +Sir John frowned. He did not like this allusion to the time when the +Iroquois fought against the English, and inflicted on them a great +defeat. But he feared to rebuke the old chief. Hiokatoo and the Senecas +were too important. + +“There ought to be a chance yet for an ambuscade,” he said. “The foliage +is still thick and heavy, and Sullivan, their general, is not used to +forest warfare. What say you to this, Wyatt?” + +Wyatt shook his head. He knew the caliber of the five from Kentucky, and +he had little hope of such good fortune. + +“They have learned from many lessons,” he replied, “and their scouts are +the best. Moreover, they will attempt anything.” + +They relapsed into silence again, and the sharp eyes of the renegade +roved about the dark circle of trees and warriors that inclosed them. +Presently he saw something that caused him to rise and walk a little +distance from the fire. Although his eye suspected and his mind +confirmed, Braxton Wyatt could not believe that it was true. It was +incredible. No one, be he ever so daring, would dare such a thing. But +the figure down there among the trees, passing about among the warriors, +many of whom did not know one another, certainly looked familiar, +despite the Indian paint and garb. Only that of Timmendiquas could rival +it in height and nobility. These were facts that could not be hidden by +any disguise. + +“What is it, Wyatt?” asked Sir John. “What do you see? Why do you look +so startled?” + +Wyatt sought to reply calmly. + +“There is a warrior among those trees over there whom I have not +seen here before,” he replied, “he is as tall and as powerful as +Timmendiquas, and there is only one such. There is a spy among us, and +it is Henry Ware.” + +He snatched a pistol from his belt, ran forward, and fired at the +flitting figure, which was gone in an instant among the trees and the +warriors. + +“What do you say?” exclaimed Thayendanegea, as he ran forward, “a spy, +and you know him to be such!” + +“Yes, he is the worst of them all,” replied Wyatt. “I know him. I could +not mistake him. But he has dared too much. He cannot get away.” + +The great camp was now in an uproar. The tall figure was seen here and +there, always to vanish quickly. Twenty shots were fired at it. None +hit. Many more would have been fired, but the camp was too much crowded +to take such a risk. Every moment the tumult and confusion increased, +but Thayendanegea quickly posted warriors on the embankment and +the flanks, to prevent the escape of the fugitive in any of those +directions. + +But the tall figure did not appear at either embankment or flank. It was +next seen near the river, when a young warrior, striving to strike with +a tomahawk, was dashed to the earth with great force. The next instant +the figure leaped far out into the stream. The moonlight glimmered an +instant on the bare head, while bullets the next moment pattered on the +water where it had been. Then, with a few powerful strokes, the stranger +reclaimed the land, sprang upon the shore, and darted into the woods +with more vain bullets flying about him. But he sent back a shout of +irony and triumph that made the chiefs and Tories standing on the bank +bite their lips in anger. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. BATTLE OF THE CHEMUNG + + +Paul had been sleeping heavily, and the sharp, pealing notes of a +trumpet awoke him at the sunburst of a brilliant morning. Henry was +standing beside him, showing no fatigue from the night's excitement, +danger, and escape, but his face was flushed and his eyes sparkled. + +“Up, Paul! Up!” he cried. “We know the enemy's position, and we will be +in battle before another sun sets.” + +Paul was awake in an instant, and the second instant he was on his feet, +rifle in hand, and heart thrilling for the great attack. He, like all +the others, had slept on such a night fully dressed. Shif'less Sol, Long +Jim, Silent Tom, Heemskerk, and the rest were by the side of him, and +all about them rose the sounds of an army going into battle, commands +sharp and short, the rolling of cannon wheels, the metallic rattle of +bayonets, the clink of bullets poured into the pouches, and the hum of +men talking in half-finished sentences. + +It was to all the five a vast and stirring scene. It was the first time +that they had ever beheld a large and regular army going into action, +and they were a part of it, a part by no means unimportant. It was +Henry, with his consummate skill and daring, who had uncovered the +position of the enemy, and now, without snatching a moment's sleep, he +was ready to lead where the fray might be thickest. + +The brief breakfast finished, the trumpet pealed forth again, and the +army began to move through the thick forest. A light wind, crisp with +the air of early autumn, blew, and the leaves rustled. The sun, swinging +upward in the east, poured down a flood of brilliant rays that lighted +up everything, the buff and blue uniforms, the cannon, the rifles, the +bayonets, and the forest, still heavy with foliage. + +“Now! now!” thought every one of the five, “we begin the vengeance for +Wyoming!” + +The scouts were well in front, searching everywhere among the thickets +for the Indian sharpshooters, who could scorch so terribly. As Braxton +Wyatt had truly said, these scouts were the best in the world. Nothing +could escape the trained eyes of Henry Ware and his comrades, and those +of Murphy, Ellerson, and the others, while off on either flank of the +army heavy detachments guarded against any surprise or turning movement. +They saw no Indian sign in the woods. There was yet a deep silence in +front of them, and the sun, rising higher, poured its golden light down +upon the army in such an intense, vivid flood that rifle barrels and +bayonets gave back a metallic gleam. All around them the deep woods +swayed and rustled before the light breeze, and now and then they caught +glimpses of the river, its surface now gold, then silver, under the +shining sun. + +Henry's heart swelled as he advanced. He was not revengeful, but he had +seen so much of savage atrocity in the last year that he could not keep +down the desire to see punishment. It is only those in sheltered homes +who can forgive the tomahawk and the stake. Now he was the very first of +the scouts, although his comrades and a dozen others were close behind +him. + +The scouts went so far forward that the army was hidden from them by the +forest, although they could yet hear the clank of arms and the sound of +commands. + +Henry knew the ground thoroughly. He knew where the embankment ran, and +he knew, too, that the Iroquois had dug pits, marked by timber. They +were not far ahead, and the scouts now proceeded very slowly, examining +every tree and clump of bushes to see whether a lurking enemy was hidden +there. The silence endured longer than he had thought. Nothing could be +seen in front save the waving forest. + +Henry stopped suddenly. He caught a glimpse of a brown shoulder's edge +showing from behind a tree, and at his signal all the scouts sank to the +ground. + +The savage fired, but the bullet, the first of the battle, whistled over +their heads. The sharp crack, sounding triply loud at such a time, came +back from the forest in many echoes, and a light puff of smoke arose. +Quick as a flash, before the brown shoulder and body exposed to take aim +could be withdrawn, Tom Ross fired, and the Mohawk fell, uttering his +death yell. The Iroquois in the woods took up the cry, pouring forth a +war whoop, fierce, long drawn, the most terrible of human sounds, and +before it died, their brethren behind the embankment repeated it in +tremendous volume from hundreds of throats. It was a shout that had +often appalled the bravest, but the little band of scouts were not +afraid. When its last echo died they sent forth a fierce, defiant note +of their own, and, crawling forward, began to send in their bullets. + +The woods in front of them swarmed with the Indian skirmishers, who +replied to the scouts, and the fire ran along a long line through the +undergrowth. Flashes of flames appeared, puffs of smoke arose and, +uniting, hung over the trees. Bullets hissed. Twigs and bark fell, and +now and then a man, as they fought from tree to tree. Henry caught one +glimpse of a face that was white, that of Braxton Wyatt, and he sought +a shot at the renegade leader, but he could not get it. But the scouts +pushed on, and the Indian and Tory skirmishers dropped back. Then on +the flanks they began to hear the rattle of rifle fire. The wings of the +army were in action, but the main body still advanced without firing a +shot. + +The scouts could now see through the trees the embankments and rifle +pits, and they could also see the last of the Iroquois and Tory +skirmishers leaping over the earthworks and taking refuge with their +army. Then they turned back and saw the long line of their own army +steadily advancing, while the sounds of heavy firing still continued on +both flanks. Henry looked proudly at the unbroken array, the front of +steel, and the cannon. He felt prouder still when the general turned to +him and said: + +“You have done well, Mr. Ware; you have shown us exactly where the enemy +lies, and that will save us many men. Now bigger voices than those of +the rifles shall talk.” + +The army stopped. The Indian position could be plainly seen. The crest +of the earthwork was lined with fierce, dark faces, and here and there +among the brown Iroquois were the green uniforms of the Royalists. + +Henry saw both Thayendanegea and Timmendiquas, the plumes in their hair +waving aloft, and he felt sure that wherever they stood the battle would +be thickest. + +The Americans were now pushing forward their cannon, six three-pounders +and two howitzers, the howitzers, firing five-and-a-half-inch shells, +new and terrifying missiles to the Indians. The guns were wheeled into +position, and the first howitzer was fired. It sent its great shell in +a curving line at and over the embankment, where it burst with a crash, +followed by a shout of mingled pain and awe. Then the second howitzer, +aimed well like the first, sent a shell almost to the same point, and a +like cry came back. + + +Shif'less Sol, watching the shots, jumped up and down in delight. + +“That's the medicine!” he cried. “I wonder how you like that, you +Butlers an' Johnsons an' Wyatts an' Mohawks an' all the rest o' your +scalp-taking crew! Ah, thar goes another! This ain't any Wyomin'!” + +The three-pounders also opened fire, and sent their balls squarely into +the rifle pits and the Indian camp. The Iroquois replied with a shower +of rifle bullets and a defiant war whoop, but the bullets fell short, +and the whoop hurt no one. + +The artillery, eight pieces, was served with rapidity and precision, +while the riflemen, except on their flanks, where they were more closely +engaged, were ordered to hold their fire. The spectacle was to Henry and +his comrades panoramic in its effect. They watched the flashes of fire +from the mouths of the cannon, the flight of the great shells, and the +bank of smoke which soon began to lower like a cloud over the field. +They could picture to themselves what was going on beyond the earthwork, +the dead falling, the wounded limping away, earth and trees torn by +shell and shot. They even fancied that they could hear the voices of the +great chiefs, Thayendanegea and Timmendiquas, encouraging their men, +and striving to keep them in line against a fire not as deadly as rifle +bullets at close quarters, but more terrifying. + +Presently a cloud of skirmishers issued once more from the Indian camp, +creeping among the trees and bushes, and seeking a chance to shoot down +the men at the guns. But sharp eyes were watching them. + +“Come, boys,” exclaimed Henry. “Here's work for us now.” + +He led the scouts and the best of the riflemen against the skirmishers, +who were soon driven in again. The artillery fire had never ceased for a +moment, the shells and balls passing over their heads. Their work done, +the sharpshooters fell back again, the gunners worked faster for a +while, and then at a command they ceased suddenly. Henry, Paul, and all +the others knew instinctively what was going to happen. They felt it in +every bone of them. The silence so sudden was full of meaning. + +“Now!” Henry found himself exclaiming. Even at that moment the order was +given, and the whole army rushed forward, the smoke floating away for +the moment and the sun flashing off the bayonets. The five sprang up +and rushed on ahead. A sheet of flame burst from the embankment, and the +rifle pits sprang into fire. The five beard the bullets whizzing past +them, and the sudden cries of the wounded behind them, but they never +ceased to rush straight for the embankment. + +It seemed to Henry that he ran forward through living fire. There was +one continuous flash from the earthwork, and a continuous flash replied. +The rifles were at work now, thousands of them, and they kept up an +incessant crash, while above them rose the unbroken thunder of the +cannon. The volume of smoke deepened, and it was shot through with the +sharp, pungent odor of burned gunpowder. + +Henry fired his rifle and pistol, almost unconsciously reloaded, and +fired again, as he ran, and then noticed that the advance had never +ceased. It had not been checked even for a moment, and the bayonets of +one of the regiments glittered in the sun a straight line of steel. + +Henry kept his gaze fixed upon a point where the earthwork was lowest. +He saw there the plumed head of Thayendanegea, and he intended to strike +if he could. He saw the Mohawk gesticulating and shouting to his men to +stand fast and drive back the charge. He believed even then, and he knew +later, that Thayendanegea and Timmendiquas were showing courage superior +to that of the Johnsons and Butters or any of their British and Canadian +allies. The two great chiefs still held their men in line, and the +Iroquois did not cease to send a stream of bullets from the earthwork. + +Henry saw the brown faces and the embankment coming closer and closer. +He saw the face of Braxton Wyatt appear a moment, and he snapped his +empty pistol at it. But it was hidden the next instant behind others, +and then they were at the embankment. He saw the glowing faces of +his comrades at his side, the singular figure of Heemskerk revolving +swiftly, and behind them the line of bayonets closing in with the +grimness of fate. + +Henry leaped upon the earthwork. An Indian fired at him point blank, and +he swung heavily with his clubbed rifle. Then his comrades were by his +side, and they leaped down into the Indian camp. After them came the +riflemen, and then the line of bayonets. Even then the great Mohawk and +the great Wyandot shouted to their men to stand fast, although the Royal +Greens and the Rangers had begun to run, and the Johnsons, the Butlers, +McDonald, Wyatt, and the other white men were running with them. + +Henry, with the memory of Wyoming and all the other dreadful things that +had come before his eyes, saw red. He was conscious of a terrible melee, +of striking again and again with his clubbed rifle, of fierce brown +faces before him, and of Timmendiquas and Thayedanegea rushing here and +there, shouting to their warriors, encouraging them, and exclaiming that +the battle was not lost. Beyond he saw the vanishing forms of the Royal +Greens and the Rangers in full flight. But the Wyandots and the best +of the Iroquois still stood fast until the pressure upon them became +overwhelming. When the line of bayonets approached their breasts they +fell back. Skilled in every detail of ambush, and a wonderful forest +fighter, the Indian could never stand the bayonet. Reluctantly +Timmendiquas, Thayendanegea and the Mohawks, Senecas, and Wyandots, who +were most strenuous in the conflict, gave ground. Yet the battlefield, +with its numerous trees, stumps, and inequalities, still favored them. +They retreated slowly, firing from every covert, sending a shower of +bullets, and now and then tittering the war whoop. + +Henry heard a panting breath by his side. He looked around and saw the +face of Heemskerk, glowing red with zeal and exertion. + +“The victory is won already!” said he. “Now to drive it home!” + +“Come on,” cried Henry in return, “and we'll lead!” + +A single glance showed him that none of his comrades had fallen. Long +Jim and Tom Ross had suffered slight wounds that they scarcely noticed, +and they and the whole group of scouts were just behind Henry. But they +now took breath, reloaded their rifles, and, throwing themselves down +in Indian fashion, opened a deadly fire upon their antagonists. Their +bullets searched all the thickets, drove out the Iroquois, and compelled +them to retreat anew. + +The attack was now pressed with fresh vigor. In truth, with so much that +the bravest of the Indians at last yielded to panic. Thayendanegea and +Timmendiquas were carried away in the rush, and the white leaders of +their allies were already out of sight. On all sides the allied red and +white force was dissolving. Precipitate flight was saving the fugitives +from a greater loss in killed and wounded-it was usually Indian tactics +to flee with great speed when the battle began to go against them-but +the people of the Long House had suffered the greatest overthrow in +their history, and bitterness and despair were in the hearts of the +Iroquois chiefs as they fled. + +The American army not only carried the center of the Indian camp, but +the heavy flanking parties closed in also, and the whole Indian army +was driven in at every point. The retreat was becoming a rout. A great, +confused conflict was going on. The rapid crackle of rifles mingled with +the shouts and war whoops of the combatants. Smoke floated everywhere. +The victorious army, animated by the memory of the countless cruelties +that had been practiced on the border, pushed harder and harder. The +Iroquois were driven back along the Chemung. It seemed that they might +be hemmed in against the river, but in their flight they came to a ford. +Uttering their cry of despair, “Oonali! Oonali!” a wail for a battle +lost, they sprang into the stream, many of them throwing away their +rifles, tomahawks, and blankets, and rushed for the other shore. But the +Scouts and a body of riflemen were after them. + +Braxton Wyatt and his band appeared in the woods on the far shore, and +opened fire on the pursuers now in the stream. He alone among the white +men had the courage, or the desperation, to throw himself and his men +in the path of the pursuit. The riflemen in the water felt the bullets +pattering around them, and some were struck, but they did not stop. They +kept on for the bank, and their own men behind them opened a covering +fire over their heads. + +Henry felt a great pulse leap in his throat at the sight of Braxton +Wyatt again. Nothing could have turned him back now. Shouting to the +riflemen, he led the charge through the water, and the bank's defenders +were driven back. Yet Wyatt, with his usual dexterity and prudence, +escaped among the thickets. + +The battle now became only a series of detached combats. Little +groups seeking to make a stand here and there were soon swept away. +Thayendanegea and Timmendiquas raged and sought to gather together +enough men for an ambush, for anything that would sting the victors, but +they were pushed too hard and fast. A rally was always destroyed in the +beginning, and the chiefs themselves at last ran for their lives. The +pursuit was continued for a long time, not only by the vanguard, but the +army itself moved forward over the battlefield and deep into the forest +on the trail of the flying Iroquois. + +The scouts continued the pursuit the longest, keeping a close watch, +nevertheless, against an ambush. Now and then they exchanged shots with +a band, but the Indians always fled quickly, and at last they stopped +because they could no longer find any resistance. They had been in +action or pursuit for many hours, and they were black with smoke, dust, +and sweat, but they were not yet conscious of any weariness. Heemskerk +drew a great red silk handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped his +glowing face, which was as red as the handkerchief. + +“It's the best job that's been done in these parts for many a year,” he +said. “The Iroquois have always thought they were invincible, and now +the spell's been broke. If we only follow it up.” + +“That's sure to be done,” said Henry. “I heard General Sullivan himself +say that his orders were to root up the whole Iroquois power.” + +They returned slowly toward the main force, retracing their steps over +the path of battle. It was easy enough to follow it. They beheld a dead +warrior at every step, and at intervals were rifles, tomahawks, scalping +knives, blankets, and an occasional shot pouch or powder horn. Presently +they reached the main army, which was going into camp for the night. +Many camp fires were built, and the soldiers, happy in their victory, +were getting ready for supper. But there was no disorder. They had been +told already that they were to march again in the morning. + +Henry, Paul, Tom, Jim, and Shif'less Sol went back over the field of +battle, where many of the dead still lay. Twilight was now coming, and +it was a somber sight. The earthwork, the thickets, and the trees were +torn by cannon balls. Some tents raised by the Tories lay in ruins, and +the earth was stained with many dark splotches. But the army had passed +on, and it was silent and desolate where so many men had fought. The +twilight drew swiftly on to night, and out of the forest came grewsome +sounds. The wolves, thick now in a region which the Iroquois had done +so much to turn into a wilderness, were learning welcome news, and they +were telling it to one another. By and by, as the night deepened, the +five saw fiery eyes in the thickets, and the long howls came again. + +“It sounds like the dirge of the people of the Long House,” said Paul, +upon whose sensitive mind the scene made a deep impression. + +The others nodded. At that moment they did not feel the flush of victory +in its full force. It was not in their nature to rejoice over a fallen +foe. Yet they knew the full value of the victory, and none of them could +wish any part of it undone. They returned slowly to the camp, and once +more they heard behind them the howl of the wolves as they invaded the +battlefield. + +They were glad when they saw the cheerful lights of the camp fires +twinkling through the forest, and heard the voices of many men talking. +Heemskerk welcomed them there. + +“Come, lads,” he said. “You must eat-you won't find out until you begin, +how hungry you are-and then you must sleep, because we march early +to-morrow, and we march fast.” + +The Dutchman's words were true. They had not tasted food since morning; +they had never thought of it, but now, with the relaxation from battle, +they found themselves voraciously hungry. + +“It's mighty good,” said Shif'less Sol, as they sat by a fire and ate +bread and meat and drank coffee, “but I'll say this for you, you old +ornery, long-legged Jim Hart, it ain't any better than the venison an' +bulffaler steaks that you've cooked fur us many a time.” + +“An' that I'm likely to cook fur you many a time more,” said Long Jim +complacently. + +“But it will be months before you have any chance at buffalo again, +Jim,” said Henry. “We are going on a long campaign through the Iroquois +country.” + +“An' it's shore to be a dangerous one,” said Shif'less Sol. “Men like +warriors o' the Iroquois ain't goin' to give up with one fight. They'll +be hangin' on our flanks like wasps.” + +“That's true,” said Henry, “but in my opinion the Iroquois are +overthrown forever. One defeat means more to them than a half dozen to +us.” + + +They said little more, but by and by lay down to sleep before the fires. +They had toiled so long and so faithfully that the work of watching and +scouting that night could be intrusted to others. Yet Henry could +not sleep for a long time. The noises of the night interested him. He +watched the men going about, and the sentinels pacing back and forth +around the camp. The sounds died gradually as the men lay down and sank +to sleep. The fires which had formed a great core of light also sank, +and the shadows crept toward the camp. The figures of the pacing +sentinels, rifle on shoulder, gradually grew dusky. Henry's nerves, +attuned so long to great effort, slowly relaxed. Deep peace came over +him, and his eyelids drooped, the sounds in the camp sank to the +lowest murmur, but just as he was falling asleep there came from the +battlefield behind then the far, faint howl of a wolf, the dirge of the +Iroquois. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. LITTLE BEARD'S TOWN + + +The trumpets called early the next morning, and the five rose, +refreshed, ready for new labors. The fires were already lighted, and +breakfast was cooking. Savory odors permeated the forest. But as soon as +all had eaten, the army marched, going northward and westward, intending +to cut through the very center of the Iroquois country. Orders had come +from the great commander that the power of the Six Nations, which had +been so long such a terrible scourge on the American frontier, must be +annihilated. They must be made strangers in their own country. Women and +children were not to be molested, but their towns must perish. + +As Thayendanegea had said the night before the Battle of the Chemung, +the power beyond the seas that had urged the Iroquois to war on the +border did not save them. It could not. British and Tories alike had +promised them certain victory, and for a while it had seemed that the +promises would come true. But the tide had turned, and the Iroquois were +fugitives in their own country. + +The army continued its march through the wilderness, the scouts in front +and heavy parties of riflemen on either flank. There was no chance for +a surprise. Henry and his comrades were aware that Indian bands still +lurked in the forest, and they had several narrow escapes from the +bullets of ambushed foes, but the progress of the army was irresistible. +Nothing could check it for a moment, however much the Indian and Tory +chiefs might plan. + +They camped again that night in the forest, with a thorough ring of +sentinels posted against surprise, although there was little danger of +the latter, as the enemy could not, for the present at least, bring a +sufficient force into the field. But after the moon had risen, the five, +with Heemskerk, went ahead through the forest. The Iroquois town of +Kanawaholla lay just ahead, and the army would reach it on the morrow. +It was the intention of the scouts to see if it was still occupied. + +It was near midnight when the little party drew near to Kanawaholla +and watched it from the shelter of the forest. Like most other Iroquois +towns, it contained wooden houses, and cultivated fields were about it. +No smoke rose from any of the chimneys, but the sharp eyes of the scouts +saw loaded figures departing through a great field of ripe and waving +corn. It was the last of the inhabitants, fleeing with what they could +carry. Two or three warriors might have been in that group of fugitives, +but the scouts made no attempt to pursue. They could not restrain a +little feeling of sympathy and pity, although a just retribution was +coming. + +“If the Iroquois had only stood neutral at the beginning of the war, as +we asked them,” said Heemskerk, “how much might have been spared to both +sides! Look! Those people are stopping for a moment.” + +The burdened figures, perhaps a dozen, halted at the far edge of the +corn field. Henry and Paul readily imagined that they were taking a +last look at their town, and the feeling of pity and sympathy deepened, +despite Wyoming, Cherry Valley, and all the rest. But that feeling +never extended to the white allies of the Iroquois, whom Thayendanegea +characterized in word and in writing as “more savage than the savages +themselves.” + +The scouts waited an hour, and then entered the town. Not a soul was in +Kanawaholla. Some of the lighter things had been taken away, but that +was all. Most of the houses were in disorder, showing the signs of hasty +flight, but the town lay wholly at the mercy of the advancing army. +Henry and his comrades withdrew with the news, and the next day, when +the troops advanced, Kanawaholla was put to the torch. In an hour it was +smoking ruins, and then the crops and fruit trees were destroyed. + +Leaving ruin behind, the army continued its march, treading the Iroquois +power under foot and laying waste the country. One after another +the Indian towns were destroyed, Catherinetown, Kendaia, +Kanadesaga, Shenanwaga, Skoiyase, Kanandaigua, Honeyoye, Kanaghsawa, +Gathtsewarohare, and others, forming a long roll, bearing the sounding +Iroquois names. Villages around Cayuga and other lakes were burned +by detachments. The smoke of perishing towns arose everywhere in +the Iroquois country, while the Iroquois themselves fled before the +advancing army. They sent appeal after appeal for help from those to +whom they had given so much help, but none came. + +It was now deep autumn, and the nights grew cold. The forests blazed +with brilliant colors. The winds blew, leaves rustled and fell. The +winter would soon be at hand, and the Iroquois, so proud of what they +had achieved, would have to find what shelter they could in the forests +or at the British posts on the Canadian frontier. Thayendanegea was +destined to come again with bands of red men and white and inflict great +loss, but the power of the Six Nations was overthrown forever, after +four centuries of victory and glory. Henry, Paul, and the rest were all +the time in the thick of it. The army, as the autumn advanced, marched +into the Genesee Valley, destroying everything. Henry and Paul, as +they lay on their blankets one night, counted fires in three different +directions, and every one of the three marked a perishing Indian +village. It was not a work in which they took any delight; on the +contrary, it often saddened them, but they felt that it had to be done, +and they could not shirk the task. + +In October, Henry, despite his youth, took command of a body of scouts +and riflemen which beat up the ways, and skirmished in advance of the +army. It was a democratic little band, everyone saying what he pleased, +but yielding in the end to the authority of the leader. They were now +far up the Genesee toward the Great Lakes, and Henry formed the plan of +advancing ahead of the army on the great Seneca village known variously +as the Seneca Castle and Little Beard's Town, after its chief, a full +match in cruelty for the older Seneca chief, Hiokatoo. Several causes +led to this decision. It was reported that Thayendanegea, Timmendiquas, +all the Butlers and Johnsons, and Braxton Wyatt were there. While not +likely to be true about all, it was probably true about some of them, +and a bold stroke might effect much. + +It is probable that Henry had Braxton Wyatt most in mind. The renegade +was in his element among the Indians and Tories, and he had developed +great abilities as a partisan, being skillfully seconded by the squat +Tory, Coleman. His reputation now was equal at least to that of Walter +Butler, and he had skirmished more than once with the vanguard of the +army. Growing in Henry's heart was a strong desire to match forces with +him, and it was quite probable that a swift advance might find him at +the Seneca Castle. + +The riflemen took up their march on a brisk morning in late autumn. The +night had been clear and cold, with a touch of winter in it, and +the brilliant colors of the foliage had now turned to a solid brown. +Whenever the wind blew, the leaves fell in showers. The sky was a fleecy +blue, but over hills, valley, and forest hung a fine misty veil that is +the mark of Indian summer. The land was nowhere inhabited. They saw +the cabin of neither white man nor Indian. A desolation and a silence, +brought by the great struggle, hung over everything. Many discerning +eyes among the riflemen noted the beauty and fertility of the country, +with its noble forests and rich meadows. At times they caught glimpses +of the river, a clear stream sparkling under the sun. + +“Makes me think o' some o' the country 'way down thar in Kentucky,” said +Shif'less Sol, “an' it seems to me I like one about ez well ez t'other. +Say, Henry, do you think we'll ever go back home? 'Pears to me that +we're always goin' farther an' farther away.” + +Henry laughed. + +“It's because circumstances have taken us by the hand and led us away, +Sol,” he replied. + +“Then,” said the shiftless one with a resigned air, “I hope them same +circumstances will take me by both hands, an' lead me gently, but +strongly, back to a place whar thar is peace an' rest fur a lazy an' +tired man like me.” + +“I think you'll have to endure a lot, until next spring at least,” said +Henry. + +The shiftless one heaved a deep sigh, but his next words were wholly +irrelevant. + +“S'pose we'll light on that thar Seneca Castle by tomorrow night?” he +asked. + +“It seems to me that for a lazy and tired man you're extremely anxious +for a fight,” Henry replied. + +“I try to be resigned,” said Shif'less Sol. But his eyes were sparkling +with the light of battle. + +They went into camp that night in a dense forest, with the Seneca Castle +about ten miles ahead. Henry was quite sure that the Senecas to whom it +belonged had not yet abandoned it, and with the aid of the other tribes +might make a stand there. It was more than likely, too, that the Senecas +had sharpshooters and sentinels well to the south of their town, and +it behooved the riflemen to be extremely careful lest they run into a +hornet's nest. Hence they lighted no fires, despite a cold night wind +that searched them through until they wrapped themselves in their +blankets. + +The night settled down thick and dark, and the band lay close in the +thickets. Shif'less Sol was within a yard of Henry. He had observed +his young leader's face closely that day, and he had a mind of uncommon +penetration. + +“Henry,” he whispered, “you're hopin' that you'll find Braxton Wyatt an' +his band at Little Beard's town?” + +“That among other things,” replied Henry in a similar whisper. + +“That first, and the others afterwards,” persisted the shiftless one. + +“It may be so,” admitted Henry. + +“I feel the same way you do,” said Shif'less Sol. “You see, we've knowed +Braxton Wyatt a long time, an' it seems strange that one who started out +a boy with you an' Paul could turn so black. An' think uv all the cruel +things that he's done an' helped to do. I ain't hidin' my feelin's. I'm +jest itchin' to git at him.” + +“Yes,” said Henry, “I'd like for our band to have it out with his.” + +Henry and Shif'less Sol, and in fact all of the five, slept that night, +because Henry wished to be strong and vigorous for the following +night, in view of an enterprise that he had in mind. The rosy Dutchman, +Heemskerk, was in command of the guard, and he revolved continually +about the camp with amazing ease, and with a footstep so light that it +made no sound whatever. Now and then he came back in the thicket and +looked down at the faces of the sleeping five from Kentucky. “Goot +boys,” he murmured to himself. “Brave boys, to stay here and help. May +they go through all our battles and take no harm. The goot and great God +often watches over the brave.” + +Mynheer Cornelius Heemskerk, native of Holland, but devoted to the new +nation of which he had made himself a part, was a devout man, despite a +life of danger and hardship. The people of the woods do not lose faith, +and he looked up at the dark skies as if he found encouragement there. +Then he resumed his circle about the camp. He heard various noises-the +hoot of an owl, the long whine of a wolf, and twice the footsteps of +deer going down to the river to drink. But the sounds were all natural, +made by the animals to which they belonged, and Heemskerk knew it. +Once or twice he went farther into the forest, but he found nothing to +indicate the presence of a foe, and while he watched thus, and beat up +the woods, the night passed, eventless, away. + +They went the next day much nearer to the Seneca Castle, and saw sure +indications that it was still inhabited, as the Iroquois evidently were +not aware of the swift advance of the riflemen. Henry had learned that +this was one of the largest and strongest of all the Iroquois towns, +containing between a hundred and two hundred wooden houses, and with a +population likely to be swollen greatly by fugitives from the Iroquois +towns already destroyed. The need of caution--great caution--was borne +in upon him, and he paid good heed. + +The riflemen sought another covert in the deep forest, now about three +miles from Little Beard's Town, and lay there, while Henry, according +to his plan, went forth at night with Shif'less Sol and Tom Ross. He was +resolved to find out more about this important town, and his enterprise +was in full accord with his duties, chief among which was to save the +vanguard of the army from ambush. + +When the complete darkness of night had come, the three left the covert, +and, after traveling a short distance through the forest, turned in +toward the river. As the town lay on or near the river, Henry thought +they might see some signs of Indian life on the stream, and from this +they could proceed to discoveries. + +But when they first saw the river it was desolate. Not a canoe was +moving on its surface, and the three, keeping well in the undergrowth, +followed the bank toward the town. But the forest soon ceased, and they +came upon a great field, where the Senecas had raised corn, and where +stalks, stripped of their ears and browned by the autumn cold, were +still standing. But all the work of planting, tending, and reaping this +great field, like all the other work in all the Iroquois fields, had +been done by the Iroquois women, not by the warriors. + +Beyond the field they saw fruit trees, and beyond these, faint lines +of smoke, indicating the position of the great Seneca Castle. The dry +cornstalks rustled mournfully as the wind blew across the field. + +“The stalks will make a little shelter,” said Henry, “and we must cross +the field. We want to keep near the river.” + +“Lead on,” said Shif'less Sol. + +They took a diagonal course, walking swiftly among the stalks and +bearing back toward the river. They crossed the field without being +observed, and came into a thick fringe of trees and undergrowth along +the river. They moved cautiously in this shelter for a rod or two, +and then the three, without word from any one of them, stopped +simultaneously. They heard in the water the unmistakable ripple made by +a paddle, and then the sound of several more. They crept to the edge of +the bank and crouched down among the bushes. Then they saw a singular +procession. + +A half-dozen Iroquois canoes were moving slowly up the stream. They were +in single file, and the first canoe was the largest. But the aspect of +the little fleet was wholly different from that of an ordinary group +of Iroquois war canoes. It was dark, somber, and funereal, and in +every canoe, between the feet of the paddlers, lay a figure, stiff +and impassive, the body of a chief slain in battle. It had all the +appearance of a funeral procession, but the eyes of the three, as they +roved over it, fastened on a figure in the first canoe, and, used as +they were to the strange and curious, every one of them gave a start. + +The figure was that of a woman, a wild and terrible creature, who half +sat, half crouched in the canoe, looking steadily downward. Her long +black hair fell in disordered masses from her uncovered head. She wore a +brilliant red dress with savage adornments, but it was stained and torn. +The woman's whole attitude expressed grief, anger, and despair. + +“Queen Esther!” whispered Henry. The other two nodded. + +So horrifying had been the impression made upon him by this woman at +Wyoming that he could not feel any pity for her now. The picture of the +great war tomahawk cleaving the heads of bound prisoners was still too +vivid. She had several sons, one or two of whom were slain in battle +with the colonists, and the body that lay in the boat may have been one +of them. Henry always believed that it was-but he still felt no pity. + +As the file came nearer they heard her chanting a low song, and now she +raised her face and tore at her black hair. + +“They're goin' to land,” whispered Shif'less Sol. + +The head of the file was turned toward the shore, and, as it approached, +a group of warriors, led by Little Beard, the Seneca chief, appeared +among the trees, coming forward to meet them. The three in their covert +crouched closer, interested so intensely that they were prepared to +brave the danger in order to remain. But the absorption of the Iroquois +in what they were about to do favored the three scouts. + +As the canoes touched the bank, Catharine Montour rose from her +crouching position and uttered a long, piercing wail, so full of grief, +rage, and despair that the three in the bushes shuddered. It was +fiercer than the cry of a wolf, and it came back from the dark forest in +terrifying echoes. + +“It's not a woman, but a fiend,” whispered Henry; and, as before, his +comrades nodded in assent. + +The woman stood erect, a tall and stalwart figure, but the beauty that +had once caused her to be received in colonial capitals was long since +gone. Her white half of blood had been submerged years ago in her Indian +half, and there was nothing now about her to remind one of civilization +or of the French Governor General of Canada who was said to have been +her father. + +The Iroquois stood respectfully before her. It was evident that she had +lost none of her power among the Six Nations, a power proceeding partly +from her force and partly from superstition. As the bodies were brought +ashore, one by one, and laid upon the ground, she uttered the long +wailing cry again and again, and the others repeated it in a sort of +chorus. + +When the bodies-and Henry was sure that they must all be those of +chiefs-were laid out, she tore her hair, sank down upon the ground, and +began a chant, which Tom Ross was afterwards able to interpret roughly +to the others. She sang: + + The white men have come with the cannon and bayonet, + Numerous as forest leaves the army has come. + Our warriors are driven like deer by the hunter, + Fallen is the League of the Ho-de-no-sau-nee! + + Our towns are burned and our fields uprooted, + Our people flee through the forest for their lives, + The king who promised to help us comes not. + Fallen is the League of the Ho-de-no-sau-nee! + + The great chiefs are slain and their bodies lie here. + No longer will they lead the warriors in battle; + No more will they drive the foe from the thicket. + Fallen is the League of the Ho-de-no-sau-nee! + + Scalps we have taken from all who hated us; + None, but feared us in the days of our glory. + But the cannon and bayonet have taken our country; + Fallen is the League of the Ho-de-no-sau-nee! + +She chanted many verses, but these were all that Tom Ross could ever +remember or translate. But every verse ended with the melancholy +refrain: “Fallen is the League of the Ho-de-no-sau-nee!” which the +others also repeated in chorus. Then the warriors lifted up the bodies, +and they moved in procession toward the town. The three watched them, +but they did not rise until the funeral train had reached the fruit +trees. Then they stood up, looked at one another, and breathed sighs of +relief. + +“I don't care ef I never see that woman ag'in,” said Shif'less Sol. “She +gives me the creeps. She must be a witch huntin' for blood. She is shore +to stir up the Iroquois in this town.” + +“That's true,” said Henry, “but I mean to go nearer.” + +“Wa'al,” said Tom Ross, “I reckon that if you mean it we mean it, too.” + +“There are certainly Tories in the town,” said Henry, “and if we are seen +we can probably pass for them. I'm bound to find out what's here.” + +“Still huntin' fur Braxton Wyatt,” said Shif'less Sol. + +“I mean to know if he's here,” said Henry. + +“Lead on,” said the shiftless one. + +They followed in the path of the procession, which was now out of sight, +and entered the orchard. From that point they saw the houses and great +numbers of Indians, including squaws and children, gathered in the open +spaces, where the funeral train was passing. Queen Esther still stalked +at its head, but her chant was now taken up by many scores of voices, +and the volume of sound penetrated far in the night. Henry yet relied +upon the absorption of the Iroquois in this ceremonial to give him +a chance for a good look through the town, and he and his comrades +advanced with boldness. + +They passed by many of the houses, all empty, as their occupants had +gone to join in the funeral lament, but they soon saw white men-a few +of the Royal Greens, and some of the Rangers, and other Tories, who were +dressed much like Henry and his comrades. One of them spoke to Shif'less +Sol, who nodded carelessly and passed by. The Tory seemed satisfied and +went his way. + +“Takes us fur some o' the crowd that's come runnin' in here ahead o' the +army,” said the shiftless one. + +Henry was noting with a careful eye the condition of the town. He +saw that no preparations for defense had been made, and there was no +evidence that any would be made. All was confusion and despair. Already +some of the squaws were fleeing, carrying heavy burdens. The three +coupled caution with boldness. If they met a Tory they merely exchanged +a word or two, and passed swiftly on. Henry, although he had seen enough +to know that the army could advance without hesitation, still pursued +the quest. Shif'less Sol was right. At the bottom of Henry's heart was +a desire to know whether Braxton Wyatt was in Little Beard's Town, a +desire soon satisfied, as they reached the great Council House, turned a +corner of it, and met the renegade face to face. + +Wyatt was with his lieutenant, the squat Tory, Coleman, and he uttered +a cry when he saw the tall figure of the great youth. There was no light +but that of the moon, but he knew his foe in an instant. + +“Henry Ware!” he cried, and snatched his pistol from his belt. + +They were so close together that Henry did not have time to use a +weapon. Instinctively he struck out with his fist, catching Wyatt on the +jaw, and sending him down as if he had been shot. Shif'less Sol and Tom +Ross ran bodily over Coleman, hurling him down, and leaping across his +prostrate figure. Then they ran their utmost, knowing that their lives +depended on speed and skill. + +They quickly put the Council House between them and their pursuers, and +darted away among the houses. Braxton Wyatt was stunned, but he speedily +regained his wits and his feet. + +“It was the fellow Ware, spying among us again!” he cried to his +lieutenant, who, half dazed, was also struggling up. “Come, men! After +them! After them!” + +A dozen men came at his call, and, led by the renegade, they began a +search among the houses. But it was hard to find the fugitives. The +light was not good, many flitting figures were about, and the frantic +search developed confusion. Other Tories were often mistaken for the +three scouts, and were overhauled, much to their disgust and that of the +overhaulers. Iroquois, drawn from the funeral ceremony, began to join +in the hunt, but Wyatt could give them little information. He had merely +seen an enemy, and then the enemy had gone. It was quite certain that +this enemy, or, rather, three of them, was still in the town. + +Henry and his comrades were crafty. Trained by ambush and escape, flight +and pursuit, they practiced many wiles to deceive their pursuers. When +Wyatt and Coleman were hurled down they ran around the Council House, a +large and solid structure, and, finding a door on the opposite side and +no one there or in sight from that point, they entered it, closing the +door behind them. + +They stood in almost complete darkness, although at length they made +out the log wall of the great, single room which constituted the Council +House. After that, with more accustomed eyes, they saw on the wall arms, +pipes, wampum, and hideous trophies, some with long hair and some with +short. The hair was usually blonde, and most of the scalps had been +stretched tight over little hoops. Henry clenched his fist in the +darkness. + +“Mebbe we're walkin' into a trap here,” said Shif'less Sol. + +“I don't think so,” said Henry. “At any rate they'd find us if we were +rushing about the village. Here we at least have a chance.” + +At the far end of the Council House hung mats, woven of rushes, and the +three sat down behind them in the very heart of the Iroquois sanctuary. +Should anyone casually enter the Council House they would still be +hidden. They sat in Turkish fashion on the floor, close together and +with their rifles lying across their knees. A thin light filtered +through a window and threw pallid streaks on the floor, which they could +see when they peeped around the edge of the mats. But outside they +heard very clearly the clamor of the hunt as it swung to and fro in the +village. Shif'less Sol chuckled. It was very low, but it was a chuckle, +nevertheless, and the others heard. + +“It's sorter takin' an advantage uv 'em,” said the shiftless one, +“layin' here in thar own church, so to speak, while they're ragin' an' +tearin' up the earth everywhar else lookin' fur us. Gives me a mighty +snug feelin', though, like the one you have when you're safe in a big +log house, an' the wind an' the hail an' the snow are beatin' outside.” + +“You're shorely right, Sol,” said Tom Ross. + +“Seems to me,” continued the irrepressible Sol, “that you did git in a +good lick at Braxton Wyatt, after all. Ain't he unhappy now, bitin' his +fingers an' pawin' the earth an' findin' nothin'? I feel real sorry, +I do, fur Braxton. It's hard fur a nice young feller to have to suffer +sech disappointments.” + +Shif'less Sol chuckled again, and Henry was forced to smile in the +darkness. Shif'less Sol was not wholly wrong. It would be a bitter blow +to Braxton Wyatt. Moreover, it was pleasant where they sat. A hard floor +was soft to them, and as they leaned against the wall they could relax +and rest. + +“What will our fellows out thar in the woods think?” asked Tom Ross. + +“They won't have to think,” replied Henry. “They'll sit quiet as we're +doing and wait.” + +The noise of the hunt went on for a long time outside. War whoops came +from different points of the village. There were shrill cries of women +and children, and the sound of many running feet. After a while it began +to sink, and soon after that they heard no more noises than those of +people preparing for flight. Henry felt sure that the town would be +abandoned on the morrow, but his desire to come to close quarters with +Braxton Wyatt was as strong as ever. It was certain that the army could +not overtake Wyatt's band, but he might match his own against it. He was +thinking of making the attempt to steal from the place when, to their +great amazement, they heard the door of the Council House open and shut, +and then footsteps inside. + +Henry looked under the edge of the hanging mat and saw two dusky figures +near the window. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. THE FINAL FIGHT + + +Shif'less Sol and Tom Ross were also looking under the mats, and the +three would have recognized those figures anywhere. The taller was +Timmendiquas, the other Thayendanegea. The thin light from the window +fell upon their faces, and Henry saw that both were sad. Haughty and +proud they were still, but each bore the look that comes only from +continued defeat and great disappointment. It is truth to say that +the concealed three watched them with a curiosity so intense that +all thought of their own risk was forgotten. To Henry, as well as his +comrades, these two were the greatest of all Indian chiefs. + +The White Lightning of the Wyandots and the Joseph Brant of the Mohawks +stood for a space side by side, gazing out of the window, taking a last +look at the great Seneca Castle. It was Thayendanegea who spoke first, +using Wyandot, which Henry understood. + +“Farewell, my brother, great chief of the Wyandots,” he said. “You have +come far with your warriors, and you have been by our side in battle. +The Six Nations owe you much. You have helped us in victory, and you +have not deserted us in defeat. You are the greatest of warriors, the +boldest in battle, and the most skillful.” + +Timmendiquas made a deprecatory gesture, but Thayendanegea went on: + +“I speak but the truth, great chief of the Wyandots. We owe you much, +and some day we may repay. Here the Bostonians crowd us hard, and the +Mohawks may yet fight by your side to save your own hunting grounds.” + +“It is true,” said Timmendiquas. “There, too, we' must fight the +Americans.” + +“Victory was long with us here,” said Thayendanegea, “but the rebels +have at last brought an army against us, and the king who persuaded +us to make war upon the Americans adds nothing to the help that he has +given us already. Our white allies were the first to run at the Chemung, +and now the Iroquois country, so large and so beautiful, is at the mercy +of the invader. We perish. In all the valleys our towns lie in ashes. +The American army will come to-morrow, and this, the great Seneca +Castle, the last of our strongholds, will also sink under the flames. +I know not how our people will live through the Winter that is yet to +come. Aieroski has turned his face from us.” + +But Timmendiquas spoke words of courage and hope. + +“The Six Nations will regain their country,” he said. “The great +League of the Ho-de-no-sau-nee, which has been victorious for so many +generations, cannot be destroyed. All the tribes from here to the +Mississippi will help, and will press down upon the settlements. I will +return to stir them anew, and the British posts will give us arms and +ammunition.” + +The light of defiance shone once more in the eyes of Thayendanegea. + +“You raise my spirits again,” he said. “We flee now, but we shall come +back again. The Ho-de-no-saunee can never submit. We will ravage all +their settlements, and burn and destroy. We will make a wilderness where +they have been. The king and his men will yet give us more help.” + +Part of his words came true, and the name of the raiding Thayendanegea +was long a terror, but the Iroquois, who had refused the requested +neutrality, had lost their Country forever, save such portions as the +victor in the end chose to offer to them. + +“And now, as you and your Wyandots depart within the half hour, I give +you a last farewell,” said Thayendanegea. + +The hands of the two great chiefs met in a clasp like that of the white +man, and then Timmendiquas abruptly left the Council House, shutting the +door behind him. Thayendanegea lingered a while at the window, and +the look of sadness returned to his face. Henry could read many of the +thoughts that were passing through the Mohawk's proud mind. + +Thayendanegea was thinking of his great journey to London, of the +power and magnificence that he had seen, of the pride and glory of +the Iroquois, of the strong and numerous Tory faction led by Sir +John Johnson, the half brother of the children of Molly Brant, +Thayendanegea's own sister, of the Butlers and all the others who had +said that the rebels would be easy to conquer. He knew better now, +he had long known better, ever since that dreadful battle in the dark +defile of the Oriskany, when the Palatine Germans, with old Herkimer at +their head, beat the Tories, the English, and the Iroquois, and made the +taking of Burgoyne possible. The Indian chieftain was a statesman, +and it may be that from this moment he saw that the cause of both the +Iroquois and their white allies was doomed. Presently Thayendanegea left +the window, walking slowly toward the door. He paused there a moment or +two, and then went out, closing it behind him, as Timmendiquas had done. +The three did not speak until several minutes after he had gone. + +“I don't believe,” said Henry, “that either of them thinks, despite +their brave words, that the Iroquois can ever win back again.” + +“Serves 'em right,” said Tom Ross. “I remember what I saw at Wyoming.” + +“Whether they kin do it or not,” said the practical Sol, “it's time for +us to git out o' here, an' go back to our men.” + +“True words, Sol,” said Henry, “and we'll go.” + +Examining first at the window and then through the door, opened +slightly, they saw that the Iroquois village bad become quiet. The +preparations for departure had probably ceased until morning. Forth +stole the three, passing swiftly among the houses, going, with silent +foot toward the orchard. An old squaw, carrying a bundle from a house, +saw them, looked sharply into their faces, and knew them to be white. +She threw down her bundle with a fierce, shrill scream, and ran, +repeating the scream as she ran. + +Indians rushed out, and with them Braxton Wyatt and his band. Wyatt +caught a glimpse of a tall figure, with two others, one on each side, +running toward the orchard, and he knew it. Hate and the hope to capture +or kill swelled afresh. He put a whistle to his lip and blew shrilly. +It was a signal to his band, and they came from every point, leading the +pursuit. + +Henry heard the whistle, and he was quite sure that it was Wyatt who had +made the sound. A single glance backward confirmed him. He knew Wyatt's +figure as well as Wyatt knew his, and the dark mass with him was +certainly composed of his own men. The other Indians and Tories, in +all likelihood, would turn back soon, and that fact would give him the +chance he wished. + +They were clear of the town now, running lightly through the orchard, +and Shif'less Sol suggested that they enter the woods at once. + +“We can soon dodge 'em thar in the dark,” he said. + +“We don't want to dodge 'em,” said Henry. + +The shiftless one was surprised, but when he glanced at Henry's face he +understood. + +“You want to lead 'em on an' to a fight?” he said. + +Henry nodded. + +“Glad you thought uv it,” said Shif'less Sol. + +They crossed the very corn field through which they had come, Braxton +Wyatt and his band in full cry after them. Several shots were fired, but +the three kept too far ahead for any sort of marksmanship, and they were +not touched. When they finally entered the woods they curved a little, +and then, keeping just far enough ahead to be within sight, but not +close enough for the bullets, Henry led them straight toward the camp of +the riflemen. As he approached, he fired his own rifle, and uttered +the long shout of the forest runner. He shouted a second time, and +now Shif'less Sol and Tom Ross joined in the chorus, their great cry +penetrating far through the woods. + +Whether Braxton Wyatt or any of his mixed band of Indians and Tories +suspected the meaning of those great shouts Henry never knew, but the +pursuit came on with undiminished speed. There was a good silver moon +now, shedding much light, and he saw Wyatt still in the van, with +his Tory lieutenant close behind, and after them red men and white, +spreading out like a fan to inclose the fugitives in a trap. The blood +leaped in his veins. It was a tide of fierce joy. He had achieved both +of the purposes for which he had come. He had thoroughly scouted the +Seneca Castle, and he was about to come to close quarters with Braxton +Wyatt and the band which he had made such a terror through the valleys. + +Shif'less Sol saw the face of his young comrade, and he was startled. +He had never before beheld it so stern, so resolute, and so pitiless. He +seemed to remember as one single, fearful picture all the ruthless and +terrible scenes of the last year. Henry uttered again that cry which was +at once a defiance and a signal, and from the forest ahead of him it was +answered, signal for signal. The riflemen were coming, Paul, Long Jim, +and Heemskerk at their head. They uttered a mighty cheer as they saw the +flying three, and their ranks opened to receive them. From the Indians +and Tories came the long whoop of challenge, and every one in either +band knew that the issue was now about to be settled by battle, and +by battle alone. They used all the tactics of the forest. Both sides +instantly dropped down among the trees and undergrowth, three or four +hundred yards apart, and for a few moments there was no sound save heavy +breathing, heard only by those who lay close by. Not a single human +being would have been visible to an ordinary eye there in the moonlight, +which tipped boughs and bushes with ghostly silver. Yet no area so small +ever held a greater store of resolution and deadly animosity. On one +side were the riflemen, nearly every one of whom had slaughtered kin to +mourn, often wives and little children, and on the other the Tories and +Iroquois, about to lose their country, and swayed by the utmost passions +of hate and revenge. + +“Spread out,” whispered Henry. “Don't give them a chance to flank us. +You, Sol, take ten men and go to the right, and you, Heemskerk, take ten +and go to the left.” + +“It is well,” whispered Heemskerk. “You have a great head, Mynheer +Henry.” + +Each promptly obeyed, but the larger number of the riflemen remained +in the center, where Henry knelt, with Paul and Long Jim on one side of +him, and Silent Tom on the other. When he thought that the two flanking +parties had reached the right position, he uttered a low whistle, and +back came two low whistles, signals that all was ready. Then the line +began its slow advance, creeping forward from tree to tree and from +bush to bush. Henry raised himself up a little, but he could not yet see +anything where the hostile force lay hidden. They went a little farther, +and then all lay down again to look. + +Tom Ross had not spoken a word, but none was more eager than he. He was +almost flat upon the ground, and he had been pulling himself along by a +sort of muscular action of his whole body. Now he was so still that +he did not seem to breathe. Yet his eyes, uncommonly eager now, were +searching the thickets ahead. They rested at last on a spot of brown +showing through some bushes, and, raising his rifle, he fired with sure +aim. The Iroquois uttered his death cry, sprang up convulsively, and +then fell back prone. Shots were fired in return, and a dozen riflemen +replied to them. The battle was joined. + +They heard Braxton Wyatt's whistle, the challenging war cry of the +Iroquois, and then they fought in silence, save for the crack of the +rifles. The riflemen continued to advance in slow, creeping fashion, +always pressing the enemy. Every time they caught sight of a hostile +face or body they sent a bullet at it, and Wyatt's men did the same. The +two lines came closer, and all along each there were many sharp little +jets of fire and smoke. Some of the riflemen were wounded, and two +were slain, dying quietly and without interrupting their comrades, who +continued to press the combat, Henry always leading in the center, and +Shif'less Sol and Heemskerk on the flanks. + +This battle so strange, in which faces were seen only for a moment, and +which was now without the sound of voices, continued without a moment's +cessation in the dark forest. The fury of the combatants increased as +the time went on, and neither side was yet victorious. Closer and closer +came the lines. Meanwhile dark clouds were piling in a bank in the +southwest. Slow thunder rumbled far away, and the sky was cut at +intervals by lightning. But the combatants did not notice the heralds of +storm. Their attention was only for each other. + +It seemed to Henry that emotions and impulses in him had culminated. +Before him were the worst of all their foes, and his pitiless resolve +was not relaxed a particle. The thunder and the lightning, although he +did not notice them, seemed to act upon him as an incitement, and with +low words he continually urged those about him to push the battle. + +Drops of rain fell, showing in the moonshine like beads of silver on +boughs and twigs, but by and by the smoke from the rifle fire, pressed +down by the heavy atmosphere, gathered among the trees, and the moon was +partly hidden. But file combat did not relax because of the obscurity. +Wandering Indians, hearing the firing, came to Wyatt's relief, but, +despite their aid, he was compelled to give ground. His were the most +desperate and hardened men, red and white, in all the allied forces, but +they were faced by sharpshooters better than themselves. Many of them +were already killed, others were wounded, and, although Wyatt and +Coleman raged and strove to hold them, they began to give back, and so +hard pressed were they that the Iroquois could not perform the sacred +duty of carrying off their dead. No one sought to carry away the Tories, +who lay with the rain, that had now begun to fall, beating upon them. + +So much had the riflemen advanced that they came to the point where +bodies of their enemies lay. Again that fierce joy surged up in Henry's +heart. His friends and he were winning. But he wished to do more than +win. This band, if left alone, would merely flee from the Seneca Castle +before the advance of the army, and would still exist to ravage and slay +elsewhere. + +“Keep on, Tom! Keep on!” he cried to Ross and the others. “Never let +them rest!” + +“We won't! We ain't dreamin' o' doin' sech a thing,” replied the +redoubtable one as he loaded and fired. “Thar, I got another!” + +The Iroquois, yielding slowly at first, began now to give way faster. +Some sought to dart away to right or left, and bury themselves in the +forest, but they were caught by the flanking parties of Shif'less Sol +and Heemskerk, and driven back on the center. They could not retreat +except straight on the town, and the riflemen followed them step for +step. The moan of the distant thunder went on, and the soft rain fell, +but the deadly crackle of the rifles formed a sharper, insistent note +that claimed the whole attention of both combatants. + +It was now the turn of the riflemen to receive help. Twenty or more +scouts and others abroad in the forest were called by the rifle fire, +and went at once into the battle. Then Wyatt was helped a second time by +a band of Senecas and Mohawks, but, despite all the aid, they could not +withstand the riflemen. Wyatt, black with fury and despair, shouted to +them and sometimes cursed or even struck at them, but the retreat +could not be stopped. Men fell fast. Every one of the riflemen was a +sharpshooter, and few bullets missed. + +Wyatt was driven out of the forest and into the very corn field through +which Henry had passed. Here the retreat became faster, and, with shouts +of triumph, the riflemen followed after. Wyatt lost some men in the +flight through the field, but when he came to the orchard, having the +advantage of cover, he made another desperate stand. + +But Shif'less Sol and Heemskerk took the band on the flanks, pouring in +a destructive fire, and Wyatt, Coleman, and a fourth of his band, all +that survived, broke into a run for the town. + +The riflemen uttered shout after shout of triumph, and it was impossible +to restrain their pursuit. Henry would have stopped here, knowing the +danger of following into the town, especially when the army was near at +band with an irresistible force, but he could not stay them. He decided +then that if they would charge it must be done with the utmost fire and +spirit. + +“On, men! On!” he cried. “Give them no chance to take cover.” + +Shif'less Sol and Heemskerk wheeled in with the flanking parties, and +the riflemen, a solid mass now, increased the speed of pursuit. Wyatt +and his men had no chance to turn and fire, or even to reload. Bullets +beat upon them as they fled, and here perished nearly all of that savage +band. Wyatt, Coleman, and only a half dozen made good the town, where +a portion of the Iroquois who had not yet fled received them. But the +exultant riflemen did not stop even there. They were hot on the heels of +Wyatt and the fugitives, and attacked at once the Iroquois who came to +their relief. So fierce was their rush that these new forces were driven +back at once. Braxton Wyatt, Coleman, and a dozen more, seeing no other +escape, fled to a large log house used as a granary, threw themselves +into it, barred the doors heavily, and began to fire from the upper +windows, small openings usually closed with boards. Other Indians from +the covert of house, tepee, or tree, fired upon the assailants, and a +fresh battle began in the town. + +The riflemen, directed by their leaders, met the new situation promptly. +Fired upon from all sides, at least twenty rushed into a house some +forty yards from that of Braxton Wyatt. Others seized another house, +while the rest remained outside, sheltered by little outhouses, trees, +or inequalities of the earth, and maintained rapid sharpshooting in +reply to the Iroquois in the town or to Braxton Wyatt's men in the +house. Now the combat became fiercer than ever. The warriors uttered +yells, and Wyatt's men in the house sent forth defiant shouts. From +another part of the town came shrill cries of old squaws, urging on +their fighting men. + +It was now about four o'clock in the morning. The thunder and lightning +had ceased, but the soft rain was still falling. The Indians had lighted +fires some distance away. Several carried torches. Helped by these, and, +used so long to the night, the combatants saw distinctly. The five lay +behind a low embankment, and they paid their whole attention to the big +house that sheltered Wyatt and his men. On the sides and behind they +were protected by Heemskerk and others, who faced a coming swarm. + +“Keep low, Paul,” said Henry, restraining his eager comrade. “Those +fellows in the house can shoot, and we don't want to lose you. There, +didn't I tell you!” + +A bullet fired from the window passed through the top of Paul's cap, but +clipped only his hair. Before the flash from the window passed, Long Jim +fired in return, and something fell back inside. Bullets came from other +windows. Shif'less Sol fired, and a Seneca fell forward banging half out +of the window, his naked body a glistening brown in the firelight. But +he hung only a few seconds. Then he fell to the ground and lay still. +The five crouched low again, waiting a new opportunity. Behind them, and +on either side, they heard the crash of the new battle and challenging +cries. + +Braxton Wyatt, Coleman, four more Tories, and six Indians were still +alive in the strong log house. Two or three were wounded, but they +scarcely noticed it in the passion of conflict. The house was a +veritable fortress, and the renegade's hopes rose high as he heard +the rifle fire from different parts of the town. His own band had been +annihilated by the riflemen, led by Henry Ware, but he had a sanguine +hope now that his enemies had rushed into a trap. The Iroquois would +turn back and destroy them. + +Wyatt and his comrades presented a repellent sight as they crouched in +the room and fired from the two little windows. His clothes and those +of the white men had been torn by bushes and briars in their flight, and +their faces had been raked, too, until they bled, but they had paid +no attention to such wounds, and the blood was mingled with sweat and +powder smoke. The Indians, naked to the waist, daubed with vermilion, +and streaked, too, with blood, crouched upon the floor, with the +muz'zles of their rifles at the windows, seeking something human to +kill. One and all, red and white, they were now raging savages, There +was not one among them who did not have some foul murder of woman or +child to his credit. + +Wyatt himself was mad for revenge. Every evil passion in him was up and +leaping. His eyes, more like those of a wild animal than a human being, +blazed out of a face, a mottled red and black. By the side of him the +dark Tory, Coleman, was driven by impulses fully as fierce. + +“To think of it!” exclaimed Wyatt. “He led us directly into a trap, that +Ware! And here our band is destroyed! All the good men that we gathered +together, except these few, are killed!” + +“But we may pay them back,” said Coleman. “We were in their trap, but +now they are in ours! Listen to that firing and the war whoop! There are +enough Iroquois yet in the town to kill every one of those rebels!” + +“I hope so! I believe so!” exclaimed Wyatt. “Look out, Coleman! Ah, he's +pinked you! That's the one they call Shif'less Sol, and he's the best +sharpshooter of them all except Ware!” + +Coleman had leaned forward a little in his anxiety to secure a good +aim at something. He had disclosed only a little of his face, but in an +instant a bullet had seared his forehead like the flaming stroke of a +sword, passing on and burying itself in the wall. Fresh blood dripped +down over his face. He tore a strip from the inside of his coat, bound +it about his head, and went on with the defense. + +A Mohawk, frightfully painted, fired from the other window. Like a flash +came the return shot, and the Indian fell back in the room, stone dead, +with a bullet through his bead. + +“That was Ware himself,” said Wyatt. “I told you he was the best shot of +them all. I give him that credit. But they're all good. Look out! +There goes another of our men! It was Ross who did that! I tell you, be +careful! Be careful!” + +It was an Onondaga who fell this time, and he lay with his head on the +window sill until another Indian pulled him inside. A minute later a +Tory, who peeped guardedly for a shot, received a bullet through his +head, and sank down on the floor. A sort of terror spread among the +others. What could they do in the face of such terrible sharpshooting? +It was uncanny, almost superhuman, and they looked stupidly at one +another. Smoke from their own firing had gathered in the room, and it +formed a ghastly veil about their faces. They heard the crash of the +rifles outside from every point, but no help came to them. + +“We're bound to do something!” exclaimed Wyatt. “Here you, Jones, stick +up the edge of your cap, and when they fire at it I'll put a bullet in +the man who pulls the trigger.” + +Jones thrust up his cap, but they knew too much out there to be taken +in by an old trick. The cap remained unhurt, but when Jones in his +eagerness thrust it higher until he exposed his arm, his wrist was +smashed in an instant by a bullet, and he fell back with a howl of pain. +Wyatt swore and bit his lips savagely. He and all of them began to fear +that they were in another and tighter trap, one from which there was no +escape unless the Iroquois outside drove off the riflemen, and of that +they could as yet see no sign. The sharpshooters held their place behind +the embankment and the little outhouse, and so little as a finger, even, +at the windows became a sure mark for their terrible bullets. A Seneca, +seeking a new trial for a shot, received a bullet through the shoulder, +and a Tory who followed him in the effort was slain outright. + +The light hitherto had been from the fires, but now the dawn was coming. +Pale gray beams fell over the town, and then deepened into red and +yellow. The beams reached the room where the beleaguered remains of +Wyatt's band fought, but, mingling with the smoke, they gave a new and +more ghastly tint to the desperate faces. + +“We've got to fight!” exclaimed Wyatt. “We can't sit here and be taken +like beasts in a trap! Suppose we unbar the doors below and make a rush +for it?” + +Coleman shook his head. “Every one of us would be killed within twenty +yards,” he said. + +“Then the Iroquois must come back,” cried Wyatt. “Where is Joe Brant? +Where is Timmendiquas, and where is that coward, Sir John Johnson? Will +they come?” + +“They won't come,” said Coleman. + +They lay still awhile, listening to the firing in the town, which swayed +hither and thither. The smoke in the room thinned somewhat, and the +daylight broadened and deepened. As a desperate resort they resumed fire +from the windows, but three more of their number were slain, and, bitter +with chagrin, they crouched once more on the floor out of range. Wyatt +looked at the figures of the living and the dead. Savage despair tore at +his heart again, and his hatred of those who bad done this increased. +It was being served out to him and his band as they had served it out +to many a defenseless family in the beautiful valleys of the border. +Despite the sharpshooters, he took another look at the window, but kept +so far back that there was no chance for a shot. + +“Two of them are slipping away,” he exclaimed. “They are Ross and the +one they call Long Jim! I wish I dared a shot! Now they're gone!” + +They lay again in silence for a time. There was still firing in +the town, and now and then they heard shouts. Wyatt looked at his +lieutenant, and his lieutenant looked at him. + +“Yours is the ugliest face I ever saw,” said Wyatt. + +“I can say the same of yours-as I can't see mine,” said Coleman. + +The two gazed once more at the hideous, streaked, and grimed faces of +each other, and then laughed wildly. A wounded Seneca sitting with his +back against the wall began to chant a low, wailing death song. + +“Shut up! Stop that infernal noise!” exclaimed Wyatt savagely. + +The Seneca stared at him with fixed, glassy eyes and continued his +chant. Wyatt turned away, but that song was upon his nerves. He knew +that everything was lost. The main force of the Iroquois would not +come back to his help, and Henry Ware would triumph. He sat down on the +floor, and muttered fierce words under his breath. + +“Hark!” suddenly exclaimed Coleman. “What is that?” + +A low crackling sound came to their ears, and both recognized it +instantly. It was the sound of flames eating rapidly into wood, and of +that wood was built the house they now held. Even as they listened they +could hear the flames leap and roar into new and larger life. + +“This is, what those two, Ross and Hart, were up to!” exclaimed Wyatt. +“We're not only trapped, but we're to be burned alive in our trap!” + +“Not I,” said Coleman, “I'm goin' to make a rush for it.” + +“It's the only thing to be done,” said Wyatt. “Come, all of you that are +left!” + +The scanty survivors gathered around him, all but the wounded Seneca, +who sat unmoved against the wall and continued to chant his death chant. +Wyatt glanced at him, but said nothing. Then he and the others rushed +down the stairs. + +The lower room was filled with smoke, and outside the flames were +roaring. They unbarred the door and sprang into the open air. A shower +of bullets met them. The Tory, Coleman, uttered a choking cry, threw up +his arms, and fell back in the doorway. Braxton Wyatt seized one of the +smaller men, and, holding him a moment or two before him to receive the +fire of his foe, dashed for the corner of the blazing building. The man +whom he held was slain, and his own shoulder was grazed twice, but he +made the corner. In an instant he put the burning building between him +and his pursuers, and ran as he had never run before in all his life, +deadly fear putting wings on his heels. As he ran he heard the dull boom +of a cannon, and he knew that the American army was entering the Seneca +Castle. Ahead of him he saw the last of the Indians fleeing for the +woods, and behind him the burning house crashed and fell in amid leaping +flames and sparks in myriads. He alone had escaped from the house. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. DOWN THE OHIO + + +“We didn't get Wyatt,” said Henry, “but we did pretty well, +nevertheless.” + +“That's so,” said Shif'less Sol. “Thar's nothin' left o' his band but +hisself, an' I ain't feelin' any sorrow 'cause I helped to do it. I +guess we've saved the lives of a good many innocent people with this +morning's work.” + +“Never a doubt of it,” said Henry, “and here's the army now finishing up +the task.” + +The soldiers were setting fire to the town in many places, and in two +hours the great Seneca Castle was wholly destroyed. The five took no +part in this, but rested after their battles and labors. One or two had +been grazed by bullets, but the wounds were too trifling to be noticed. +As they rested, they watched the fire, which was an immense one, fed by +so much material. The blaze could be seen for many miles, and the ashes +drifted over all the forest beyond the fields. + +All the while the Iroquois were fleeing through the wilderness to the +British posts and the country beyond the lakes, whence their allies had +already preceded them. The coals of Little Beard's Town smoldered for +two or three days, and then the army turned back, retracing its steps +down the Genesee. + +Henry and his comrades felt that their work in the East was finished. +Kentucky was calling to them. They had no doubt that Braxton Wyatt, now +that his band was destroyed, would return there, and he would surely +be plotting more danger. It was their part to meet and defeat him. They +wished, too, to see again the valley, the river, and the village in +which their people had made their home, and they wished yet more to look +upon the faces of these people. + +They left the army, went southward with Heemskerk and some others of the +riflemen, but at the Susquehanna parted with the gallant Dutchman and +his comrades. + +“It is good to me to have known you, my brave friends,” said Heemskerk, +“and I say good-by with sorrow to you, Mynheer Henry; to you, Mynheer +Paul; to you, Mynheer Sol; to you, Mynheer Tom; and to you, Mynheer +Jim.” + +He wrung their hands one by one, and then revolved swiftly away to hide +his emotion. + +The five, rifles on their shoulders, started through the forest. When +they looked back they saw Cornelius Heemskerk waving his hand to them. +They waved in return, and then disappeared in the forest. It was a long +journey to Pittsburgh, but they found it a pleasant one. It was yet +deep autumn on the Pennsylvania hills, and the forest was glowing with +scarlet and gold. The air was the very wine of life, and when they +needed game it was there to be shot. As the cold weather hung off, they +did not hurry, and they enjoyed the peace of the forest. They realized +now that after their vast labors, hardships, and dangers, they needed +a great rest, and they took it. It was singular, and perhaps not so +singular, how their minds turned from battle, pursuit, and escape, to +gentle things. A little brook or fountain pleased them. They admired the +magnificent colors of the foliage, and lingered over the views from the +low mountains. Doe and fawn fled from them, but without cause. At night +they built splendid fires, and sat before them, while everyone in his +turn told tales according to his nature or experience. + +They bought at Pittsburgh a strong boat partly covered, and at the point +where the Allegheny and the Monongahela unite they set sail down the +Ohio. It was winter now, but in their stout caravel they did not care. +They had ample supplies of all kinds, including ammunition, and their +hearts were light when they swung into the middle of the Ohio and moved +with its current. + +“Now for a great voyage,” said Paul, looking at the clear stream with +sparkling eyes. + +“I wonder what it will bring to us,” said Shif'less Sol. + +“We shall see,” said Henry. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Scouts of the Valley, by Joseph A. 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