The Whiskey Scene. Six Indians Roasted.
Near the close of Tom’s life, he was living in a cabin near Barryville.
Time had begun to tell on him, yet his work was not done. The murderer of
his father still lived, and the pride of his life was to kill Muswink.
He was contemplating this tragedy as he stood at the door of his cabin
and gave vent to his pent up feelings in the following soliloquy:—
“My work is nearly done, and Indian scalps are growing scarce. Their
number now stands at 93. The contract is 100. O, that I could meet
and kill and scalp Muswink; then my work would be done and vengeance
satisfied. It was he that fired the first gun. It was he that robbed the
dead body of my father. It was he that fired my heart and made me the
avenger of the Delaware Valley. It was he that made me vow at my father’s
grave, ‘To kill all, to spare none.’ That vow I have kept, but Muswink
still lives. These hairs are growing gray; these limbs are growing stiff;
my work is not yet done. Muswink must—shall die. To-morrow I’ll go to the
Neversink and at Decker’s tavern. I will kill and scalp the murderer of
my father. Then I will go to Rosencrance’s in the clove and die. There I
shall meet again and for the last time, brothers, sisters and friends.
In love they will close my eyes and lay me away. There I shall sweetly
sleep until Gabriel blows his horn and says, ‘Those that are in the grave
come forth.’ Then Tom will come forth with a hundred Indian scalps in his
crown as evidence that I have been a true and faithful avenger. But I
tire; I must go to my couch and dream of Muswink and to-morrow.”
Tom enters his cabin and goes to bed. Six Indians that were bent on
his destruction had been watching him, and were then planning how they
could take him alive. Noiselessly they approach the cabin and find Tom
asleep. He is seized and taken out of the cabin and tied to a tree.
Then they went for Tom’s property which consisted of skins, furs and a
keg of brandy. Their joy at finding the brandy was unbounded and caused
them in a measure to forget Tom. They imbibed freely and a drunken
revelry ensues, and all fall asleep but one. This one was bound to put
Tom beyond the means of escape. He takes torch in one hand and a knife
in the other and starts to kill him, but the brandy had done its work.
He stumbled and fell across Tom’s body, and soon was in an unconscious
drunken slumber.
Tom gets his knife, cuts his bands and escapes. The torch the Indian
carried sets fire to the cabin and the Indians are roasted in the flames.
Tom views the fire from a distance and exclaims:
That is putting the shoe on the other foot. They intended to burn me, but
they are now charcoal. But they are out of my way, and I am out their
scalps. That makes 99. Now for the Neversink, Muswink and 100.
A few days after this a number of farmers were assembled at Decker’s
tavern, among which were the Cuddebacks, Gumaers and Swartwouts
discussing a horse race that had taken place but a few days before, when
Muswink suddenly appeared. Ugh! Ugh! here you all be; come and drink with
the Indian that killed and scalped old Tom Quick. Come along, all of you.
The war is over and the hatchet is buried.
Don’t to be too sure of that, said Gumaer. His son, Tom, still lives, and
with him the hatchet will never be buried until he has your scalp.
Ugh! Tom Quick take my scalp? When he does, he is welcome to it, replied
Muswink.
I understand that he is in the neighborhood and is likely to drop in here
at any moment, said Cuddeback.
Let him drop, said Muswink. I can handle him as easy as I did his father.
Maybe not, said Swartwout. You had the first shot then. He may get the
first now.
Never, replied the savage. Muswink always ready. Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Here he
comes now.
At this moment Tom enters the door and Muswink salutes him: Ugh! He looks
just like his father.
Tom was exasperated and seized a chair, but was prevented from striking
him by those present.
Muswink continued: Look Tom, I will show you what a pretty face the
old man made when I jerked his scalp off. (Here Muswink made hideous
grimaces.) Wan’t that a pretty face for an old man to make. I wonder if
his son can beat it.
Scoundrel, exclaimed Tom, raising a chair.
Stop, said Gumaer. No blood shed here.
Let him come, said Muswink. I can pull off his shirt as easily as I did
his father’s sleeve buttons. Tom, do you know these buttons? (Showing
them.) Do you know that I tore them from his shirt the same time I did
the scalp from his head.
Tom could control his feelings no longer and sprang for a gun that was
hanging over the fire-place, cocked it and presented it at the breast of
Muswink, exclaiming, March!
March, where? said the frightened Indian. This was the first that he had
realized his danger. He read his doom in Tom’s countenance.
March! Tom repeated for the second time. Muswink leaves the house closely
followed by Tom with the gun at his shoulder ready to shoot in case his
victim attempted to escape. Tom drove him down the road that leads from
Cuddebackville to Carpenter’s Point. There in a thick cluster of pines
Muswink turns toward Tom and said: Tom, would you shoot me?
Yes, replied Tom, you shot my father.
But, Tom, the war is over and peace is declared.
Tom raised his rifle and exclaimed in a stentorian voice: The war is not
over but still rages in my breast, and peace will not be declared until
you die. Die, dog, die.
Tom’s gun spoke and was heard at Decker’s tavern, and at that same
instant Muswink went to the Spirit World. Tom silently viewed his corpse
for a few minutes and then exclaimed: Vengeance is satisfied. I swore to
drive the last red skin from the Delaware Valley. I swore to spare none.
I swore to kill the old man with silver hair, the lisping babe without
teeth; the mother quick with child; and the maid in the bloom of youth. I
have done it. The valley is clear. The Indians have gone west or to the
Spirit World. There lies the last of his accursed race. Dog, I will not
dirty my fingers with his scalp. I will leave his body to be cooked and
dried by the sun, and the scalp to be torn from his head by the wolves. I
will now return to the mountains and talk with my father’s spirit.
Tom Quick was not destined to fall by the hand of his Indian foes, nor to
be successfully captured by white men.