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Wyoming Series.--No. 1.
WYOMING
by
EDWARD S. ELLIS
Author of "Young Pioneer Series," "Log Cabin Series," etc., etc.
Philadelphia
Henry T. Coates & Co.
Copyright, 1888.
by
Porter & Coates.
[Illustration: "He was stopped in the most startling manner that can be
imagined."]
WYOMING.
CHAPTER I.
On the sultry third of July, 1778, Fred Godfrey, a sturdy youth of
eighteen years, was riding at a breakneck speed down the Wyoming Valley,
in the direction of the settlement, from which he saw columns of smoke
rolling upward, and whence, during the few pauses of his steed, he heard
the rattling discharge of firearms and the shouts of combatants.
"I wonder whether I am too late," he asked himself more than once, and
he urged his splendid horse to a greater pace; "the road never seemed so
long."
Ah, there was good cause for the anxiety of the lad, for in that lovely
Wyoming Valley lived those who were dearer to him than all the world
beside, and whatever fate overtook the settlers must be shared by him as
well. He had ridden his horse hard, and his flanks glistened with wet
and foam, but though every foot of the winding road was familiar to him,
it appeared in his torturing impatience to be double its usual length.
Fred Godfrey had received the promise of his father, on the breaking out
of the Revolution, that he might enlist in the patriot army so soon as
he reached the age of seventeen. On the very day that he attained that
age he donned the Continental uniform, made for him by loving hands,
bade his friends good-bye, and hastened away to where Washington was
longing for just such lusty youths as he who appeared to be several
years younger than he really was.
Fred was a handsome, athletic youngster, and he sat his horse with the
grace of a crusader. Although the day was warm, and his face glowed with
perspiration, he wore his cocked hat, blue coat with its white facings,
the belt around the waist and another which passed over one shoulder ere
it joined the one around the middle of his body, knee-breeches, and
strong stockings and shoes. His rifle was slung across his back, and a
couple of loaded single-barreled pistols were thrust in his belt, where
they could be drawn the instant needed.
During his year's service in the patriot army Fred had proven himself an
excellent soldier, and the dash and nerve which he showed in more than
one instance caught the eye of Washington himself, and won the youth a
lieutenancy, at the time when he was the youngest member of his company.
The ardent patriot was full of ambition, and was sure, should no
accident befall him, of gaining higher honors. When he tramped with
several other recruits from Wyoming to the camp of the Continentals,
hundreds of miles away, one of his greatest comforts was the belief
that, no matter how the current of war drifted back and forth, there was
no danger of its reaching Wyoming. That lovely and secluded valley was
so far removed from the tread of the fierce hosts that they might feel
secure.
But behold! News came to Washington that the Tories and Indians were
about to march into the valley with torch and tomahawk, and he was
begged to send re-enforcements without delay. The Father of his Country
was then on his campaign through the Jerseys. The British army had
withdrawn from Philadelphia, where it spent the winter, and Clinton with
a part of the force was marching overland to New York, with the
Continentals in pursuit.
The campaign was so important that the commander-in-chief could ill
afford to spare a man. He knew that Wyoming was not entirely
defenseless. Colonel Zebulon Butler of the Continental army was
marshaling the old men and boys, and there was the strong defense known
as Forty Fort, built by the original settlers from Connecticut, not to
mention Wilkesbarre near at hand, so that it would seem the settlers
ought to be able to protect themselves against any force likely to be
brought against them.
However, Washington told several of his recruits from Wyoming of the
appeal that had been made to him, and gave them permission to go to the
help of their friends, though he added that he did not think it
possible for them to reach the ground in time to be of service.
But a half dozen started on foot toward the threatened point. Within a
day's tramp of their destination they fell somewhat apart, as each, in
his familiarity of the country, believed that he knew a shorter and
quicker way home than the others.
Fred Godfrey was almost in sight of his home, when he was both pleased
and alarmed by coming upon an estray horse. He was saddled and bridled,
and though contentedly cropping the grass at the roadside, the
perspiration and jaded look showed that he had come from the
battle-ground. It was startling to know that such was the fact, and
supplemented as it was by the reports of guns, shouts, and the black
volumes of smoke pouring upward, Fred was filled with an anguish of
misgiving.
Without stopping to make inquiries or to guess who could have owned the
estray steed, the young patriot slipped forward, caught the bridle
before the animal had time to scent danger, and vaulting lightly into
the saddle, turned the head of the horse toward Wyoming, and striking
his heels against his ribs, quickly urged him to a dead run.
"I am needed there," said Fred, urging his spirited animal still more,
and peering down the highway; "you're the best horse I ever rode, but I
can't afford to spare you now."
Fred Godfrey not only was close to the stirring scenes that marked that
memorable massacre, but he was among them sooner even than he
anticipated.