THE AMBUSH
Mrs. Scott and her little son were made welcome in the home of John
Irons. Jack and Solomon were immediately sent up the river and through
the bush to help the force at Ti. In the middle and late days of July,
they reported to runners the southward progress of the British. They
were ahead of Herkimer's regiment of New York militia on August third
when they discovered the ambush--a misfortune for which they were in no
way responsible. Herkimer and his force had gone on without them to
relieve Fort Schuyler. The two scouts had ridden post to join him.
They were afoot half a mile or so ahead of the commander when Jack
heard the call of the swamp robin. He hurried toward his friend.
Solomon was in a thicket of tamaracks.
"We got to git back quick," said the latter. "I see sign o' an ambush."
They hurried to their command and warned the General. He halted and
faced his men about and began a retreat. Jack and Solomon hurried out
ahead of them some twenty rods apart. In five minutes Jack heard
Solomon's call again. Thoroughly alarmed, he ran in the direction of
the sound. In a moment he met Solomon. The face of the latter had
that stern look which came only in a crisis. Deep furrows ran across
his brow. His hands were shut tight. There was an expression of anger
in his eyes. He swallowed as Jack came near.
"It's an ambush sure as hell's ahead," he whispered.
As they were hurrying toward the regiment, he added:
"We got to fight an' ag'in' big odds--British an' Injuns. Don't never
let yerself be took alive, my son, lessen ye want to die as Scott did.
But, mebbe, we kin bu'st the circle."
In half a moment they met Herkimer.
"Git ready to fight," said Solomon. "We're surrounded."
The men were spread out in a half-circle and some hurried orders given,
but before they could take a step forward the trap was sprung. "The
Red Devils of Brant" were rushing at them through the timber with yells
that seemed to shake the tree-tops. The regiment fired and began to
advance. Some forty Indians had fallen as they fired. General
Herkimer and others were wounded by a volley from the savages.
"Come on, men. Foller me an' use yer bayonets," Solomon shouted.
"We'll cut our way out."
The Indians ahead had no time to load. Scores of them were run
through. Others fled for their lives. But a red host was swarming up
from behind and firing into the regiment. Many fell. Many made the
mistake of turning to fight back and were overwhelmed and killed or
captured. A goodly number had cut their way through with Jack and
Solomon and kept going, swapping cover as they went. Most of them were
wounded in some degree. Jack's right shoulder had been torn by a
bullet. Solomon's left hand was broken and bleeding. The savages were
almost on their heels, not two hundred yards behind. The old scout
rallied his followers in a thicket at the top of a knoll with an open
grass meadow between them and their enemies. There they reloaded their
rifles and stood waiting.
"Don't fire--not none o' ye--till I give the word. Jack, you take my
rifle. I'm goin' to throw this 'ere bunch o' lightnin'."
Solomon stepped out of the thicket and showed himself when the savages
entered the meadow. Then he limped up the trail as if he were badly
hurt, in the fashion of a hen partridge when one has come near her
brood. In a moment he had dodged behind cover and crept back into the
thicket.
There were about two hundred warriors who came running across the flat
toward that point where Solomon had disappeared. They yelled like
demons and overran the little meadow with astonishing speed.
"Now hold yer fire--hold yer fire till I give ye the word, er we'll all
be et up. Keep yer fingers off the triggers now."
He sprang into the open. Astonished, the foremost runners halted while
others crowded upon them. The "bunch of lightning" began its curved
flight as Solomon leaped behind a tree and shouted, "Fire!"
"'Tain't too much to say that the cover flew off o' hell right thar at
the edge o' the Bloody Medder that minnit--you hear to me," he used to
tell his friends. "The air were full o' bu'sted Injun an' a barrel o'
blood an' grease went down into the ground. A dozen er so that wasn't
hurt run back ercrost the medder like the devil were chasin' 'em all
with a red-hot iron. I reckon it'll allus be called the Bloody Medder."
In this retreat Jack had lost so much blood that he had to be carried
on a litter. Before night fell they met General Benedict Arnold and a
considerable force. After a little rest the tireless Solomon went back
into the bush with Arnold and two regiments to find the wounded
Herkimer, if possible, and others who might be in need of relief. They
met a band of refugees coming in with the body of the General. They
reported that the far bush was echoing with the shrieks of tortured
captives.
"Beats all what an amount o' sufferin' it takes to start a new nation,"
Solomon used to say.
Next day Arnold fought his way to the fort, and many of St. Leger's
Rangers and their savage allies were slain or captured or broken into
little bands and sent flying for their lives into the northern bush.
So the siege of Fort Schuyler was raised.
"I never see no better fightin' man than Arnold," Solomon used to say.
"I seen him fight in the middle bush an' on the Stillwater. Under fire
he was a regular wolverine. Allus up ag'in' the hottest side o' hell
an' sayin':
"'Come on, boys. We kin't expec' to live forever.'
"But Arnold were a sore head. Allus kickin' over the traces an'
complainin' that he never got proper credit."