CHINISEE CASTLE
For twelve days our army, marching west by north, tore its terrible way
straight through the smoking vitals of the Iroquois Empire, leaving
behind it nearly forty towns and villages and more than two hundred
cabins on fire; thousands and thousands of bushels of grain burning,
thousands of apple, peach, pear, and plum trees destroyed, thousands of
acres of pumpkins, beans, peas, corn, potatoes, beets, turnips,
carrots, watermelons, muskmelons, strawberry, black-berry, raspberry
shrubs crushed and rotting in the trampled gardens under the hot
September sun.
In the Susquehanna and Chinisee Valleys, not a roof survived unburnt,
not a fruit tree or an ear of corn remained standing, not a domestic
animal, not a fowl, was left. And, save for the aged squaw we left at
Chiquaha in a new hut of bark, with provisions sufficient for her
needs, not one living soul now inhabited the charred ruins of the Long
House behind us, except our fierce soldiery. And they, tramping
doggedly forward, voluntarily and cheerfully placing themselves on half
rations, were now terribly resolved to make an end for all time of the
secret and fruitful Empire which had nourished so long the merciless
marauders, red and white, who had made of our frontiers but one vast
slaughter-house and bloody desolation.
Town after town fell in ashes as our torches flared; Kendaia,
Kanadesaga, Gothsunquin, Skoi-yase, Kanandaigua, Haniai, Kanasa; acre
after acre was annihilated. So vast was one field of corn that it took
two thousand men more than six hours to destroy it. And the end was not
yet, nor our stern business with our enemies ended.
As always on the march, the division of light troops led; the advance
was piloted by my guides, reinforced by Boyd with four riflemen of
Morgan's--Tim Murphy, David Elerson, and Garrett Putnam, privates, and
Michael Parker, sergeant.
Close behind us, and pretty well ahead of the rifle battalion, under
Major Parr, and the pioneers, followed Mr. Lodge, the surveyor, and his
party--Thomas Grant with the Jacob-staff, four chain-carriers, and
Corporal Calhawn. Usually we remained in touch with them while they ran
their lines through the wilderness, but sometimes we were stealing
forward, far ahead and in touch with the retreating Tory army,
patiently and persistently contriving plans to get at Amochol. But the
painted hordes of Senecas enveloped the Sorcerer and his acolytes as
with a living blanket; and, prowling outside their picket fires at
night, not one ridged-crest did we see during those twelve days of
swift pursuit.
Boyd, during the last few days, had become very silent and morose; and
his men and my Indians believed that he was brooding over his failure
to take the Red Priest at Catharines-town. But my own heavy heart told
me a different story; and the burden of depression which this young
officer bore so silently seemed to weight me also with vague and
sinister apprehensions.
I remember, just before sunset, that our small scout of ten were halted
by a burnt log bridge over a sluggish inlet to a lake. The miry trail
to the Chinisee Castle led over it, swung westward along the lake,
rising to a steep bluff which was gashed with a number of deep and
rocky ravines.
It was plain that the retreating Tory army had passed over this bridge,
and that their rearguard had set it afire.
I said to Boyd, pointing across the southern end of the lake:
"From what I have read of Braddock's Field, yonder terrain most
astonishingly resembles it. What an ambuscade could Butler lay for our
army yonder, within shot of this crossing!"
"Pray God he lays it," said Boyd between his teeth.
"Yet, we could get at him better beyond those rocky gashes," I
muttered, using my spyglass.
"Butler is there," said the Mohican, calmly.
Both Boyd and I searched the wooded bluffs in vain for any sign of
life, but the Sagamore and the other Indians quietly maintained their
opinion, because, they explained, though patches of wild rice grew
along the shore, the wild ducks and geese had left their feeding coves
and were lying half a mile out in open water. Also, the blue-jays had
set up a screaming in the yellowing woods along the western shore, and
the tall, blue herons had left their shoreward sentry posts, and now
mounted guard far to the northward among the reeds, where solitary
black ducks dropped in at intervals, quacking loudly.
Boyd nodded; the Oneidas drew their hatchets and blazed the trees; and
we all sat down in the woods to await the coming of our advanced guard.
After a little while, our pioneers appeared, rifles slung, axes
glittering on their shoulders, and immediately began to fell trees and
rebuild the log bridge. Hard on their heels came my rifle battalion;
and in the red sunshine we watched the setting of the string of
outposts.
Far back along the trail behind us we could hear the halted army making
camp; flurries of cheery music from the light infantry bugle-horns, the
distant rolling of drums, the rangers penetrating whistle, lashes of
wagoners cracking, the melancholy bellow of the beef herd.
Major Parr came and talked with us for a few minutes, and went away
convinced that Butler's people lay watching us across the creek. Ensign
Chambers came a-mincing through the woods, a-whisking the snuff from
his nose with the only laced hanker in the army; and:
"Dear me!" says he. "Do you really think we shall have a battle,
Loskiel? How very interesting and enjoyable it will be."
"Who drilled your pretty hide, Benjamin?" said I bluntly, noting that
he wore his left arm in a splint.
"Lord!" says he. "'Twas a scratch from a half-ounce ball at the
Chemung. Dear, dear, how very disappointing was that affair, Loskiel!
Most annoying of them not to stand our charge!" And, "Dear, dear,
dear," he murmured, mincing off again with all the air of a Wall Street
beau ogling the pretty dames on Hanover Square.
"Where is this damned Castle?" growled Boyd. "Chinisee, Chenussio,
Genesee--whatever it is called? The name keeps buzzing in my head--nay,
for the last three days I have dreamed of it and awakened to hear it
sounding in my ears, as though beside me some one stooped and whispered
it."
I pulled out our small map, which we had long since learned to
distrust, yet even our General had no better one.
Here was marked the Chinisee Castle, near the confluence of Canaseraga
Creek and the Chinisee River; and I showed the place to Boyd, who
looked at it curiously.
Mayaro, however, shook his crested head:
"No, Loskiel," he said. "The Chinisee Castle stands now on the western
shore. The Great Town should stand here!"--placing his finger on an
empty spot on the map. "And here, two miles above, is another town."
"And you had better tell that to the General when he comes," remarked
Boyd. And to me he said: "If we are to take Amochol at all, it will be
this night or at dawn at the Chinisee Castle."
"I am also of that opinion," said I.
"I shall want twenty riflemen," he said.
"If it can not be done with four, and my Indians, we need not attempt
it."
"Why?" he asked sullenly.
"The General has so ordered."
"Yes, but if I am to catch Amochol I must do it in my own way. I know
how to do it. And if I risk taking my twenty riflemen, and am
successful, the General will not care how it was accomplished."
I said nothing, because Boyd ranked me, but what he proposed made me
very uneasy. More than once he had interpreted orders after his own
fashion, and, being always successful in his enterprises, nothing was
said to him in reproof.
My Indians had made a fire, I desiring to let the enemy suppose that we
suspected nothing of his ambuscade so close at hand; and around this we
lay, munching our meagre meal of green corn roasted on the coals, and
ripe apples to finish.
As we ended, the sun set behind the western bluffs, and our evening gun
boomed good-night in the forest south of us. And presently came,
picking their way through the trail-mire, our General, handsomely
horsed as usual, attended by Major Adam Hoops, of his staff, and
several others.
We instantly waited on him and told him what we knew and suspected; and
I showed him my map and warned him of the discrepancy between its
marked places and the report of the Mohican Sagamore.
"Damnation!" he said. "Every map I have had lies in detail, misleading
and delaying me when every hour empties our wagons of provisions. Were
it not for your Indians, Mr. Loskiel, and that Sagamore in particular,
we had missed half the game as it lies."
He sat his saddle in silence for a while, looking at the unfinished log
bridge and up at the bluffs opposite.
"I feel confident that Butler is there," he said bluntly. "But what I
wish to know is where this accursed Chinisee Castle stands. Boyd, take
four men, move rapidly just before midnight, find out where this castle
stands, and report to me at sunrise."
Boyd saluted, hesitated, then asked permission to speak. And when the
General accorded it, he explained his plan to take Amochol at the
Chinisee Castle, and that this matter would neither delay nor interfere
with a prompt execution of his present orders.
"Very well," nodded the General, "but take no more than four men, and
Mr. Loskiel and his Indians with you; and report to me at sunrise."
I heard him say this; Major Hoops heard him also. So I supposed that
Boyd would obey these orders to the letter.
When the mounted party had moved away, Boyd and I went back to the fire
and lay down on our blankets. We were on the edge of the trees; it was
still daylight; the pioneers were still at work; and my Indians were
freshening their paint, rebraiding their scalp-locks, and shining up
hatchet, rifle, and knife.
"Look at those bloodhounds," muttered Boyd. "They did not hear what we
were talking about, but they know by premonition."
"I do not have any faith in premonitions," said I.
"Why?"
"I have dreamed I was scalped, and my hair still grows."
"You are not out of the woods yet," he said, sombrely.
"That does not worry me."
"Nor me. Yet, I do believe in premonition."
"That is old wives' babble."
"Maybe, Loskiel. Yet, I know I shall not leave this wilderness alive."
"Lord!" said I, attempting to jest. "You should set up as a rival to
Amochol and tell us all our fortunes."
He smiled--and the effort distorted his pale, handsome face.
"I think it will happen at Chinisee," he said quietly.
"What will happen?"
"The end of the world for me, Loskiel."
"It is not like you, Boyd, to speak in such a manner. Only lately have
I ever heard from you a single note of such foreboding."
"Only lately have I been dowered with the ominous clairvoyance. I am
changed, Loskiel."
"Not in courage."
"No," he said with a shrug of his broad shoulders that set ruffles and
thrums a-dancing on his rifle-dress.
We were silent for a while, watching the Indians at their polishing.
Then he said in a low but pleasant voice:
"How proud and happy must you be with your affianced. What a splendour
of happiness lies before you both! An unblemished past, an innocent
passion, a future stretching out unstained before you--what more can
God bestow on man and maid?... May bright angels guard you both,
Loskiel."
I made to thank him for the wish, but suddenly found I could not
control my voice, so lay there in silence and with throat contracted,
looking at this man whose marred young life lay all behind him, and
whose future, even to me, lowered strangely and ominously veiled.
And as we lay there, into our fire-circle came a dusty, mud-splashed,
and naked runner, plucking from his light skin-pouch two letters, one
for Boyd and one for me.
I read mine by the flickering fire; it was dated from Tioga Point:
"Euan Loskiel, my honoured and affianced husband, and my lover,
worshipped and adored, I send you by this runner my dearest affections,
my duties, and my most sacred sentiments.
"You must know that this day we have arrived at the Fort at Tioga Point
without any accident or mischance of any description, and, indeed, not
encountering one living creature between Catharines-town and this post.
"My beloved mother desires her particular and tender remembrances to be
conveyed to you, her honoured son-in-law to be, and further commands
that I express to you, as befittingly as I know how, her deep and
ever-living gratitude and thanks for your past conduct in regard to me,
and your present and noble-minded generosity concerning the
dispositions you have made for us to remain under the amiable
protection of Mr. Hake in Albany.
"Dear lad, what can I say for myself? You are so glorious, so
wonderful--and in you it does seem that all the virtues, graces, and
accomplishments are so perfectly embodied, that at moments, thinking of
you, I become afraid, wondering what it is in me that you can accept in
exchange for the so perfect love you give me.
"I fear that you may smile on perusing this epistle, deeming it,
perhaps, a trifle flowery in expression--but, Euan, I am so torn
between the wild passion I entertain for you, and a desire to address
you modestly and politely in terms of correspondence, as taught in the
best schools, that I know not entirely how to conduct. I would not have
you think me cold, or too stiffly laced in the formalities of polite
usage, so that you might not divine my heart a-beating under the dress
that covers me, be it rifle-frock or silken caushet. I would not have
you consider me over-bold, light-minded, or insensible to the deep and
sacred tie that already binds me to you evermore--which even, I think,
the other and tender tie which priest and church shall one day impose,
could not make more perfect or more secure.
"So I must strive to please you by writing with elegance befitting, yet
permitting you to perceive the ardent heart of her who thinks of you
through every blessed moment of the day.
"I pray, as my dear mother prays, that God, all armoured, and with His
bright sword drawn, stand sentinel on your right hand throughout the
dangers and the trials of this most just and bloody war. For your
return I pray and wait.
"Your humble and dutiful and obedient and adoring wife to be,
"Lois de Contrecoeur.
"Post scriptum: The memory of our kiss fades not from my lips. I will
be content when circumstances permit us the liberty to repeat it."
When I had read the letter again and again, I folded it and laid it in
the bosom of my rifle-shirt. Boyd still brooded over his letter, the
red firelight bathing his face to the temples.
After a long while he raised his eyes, saw me looking at him, stared at
me for a moment, then quietly extended the letter toward me.
"You wish me to read it?" I asked.
"Yes, read it, Loskiel, before I burn it," he said drearily. "I do not
desire to have it discovered on my body after death."
I took the single sheet of paper and read:
"Lieutenant Thomas Boyd,
"Rifle Corps,
"Sir:
"For the last time, I venture to importune you in behalf of one for
whose present despair you are entirely responsible. Pitying her
unhappy condition, I have taken her as companion to me since we are
arrived at Easton, and shall do what lies within my power to make
her young life as endurable as may be.
"You, sir, on your return from the present campaign, have it in
your power to make the only reparation possible. I trust that your
heart and your sense of honour will so incline you.
"As for me, Mr. Boyd, I make no complaint, desire no sympathy,
expect none. What I did was my fault alone. Knowing that I was
falling in love with you, and at the same time aware what kind of
man you had been and must still be, I permitted myself to drift
into deeper waters, too weak of will to make an end, too miserable
to put myself beyond the persuasion of your voice and manner. And
perhaps I might never have found courage to give you up entirely
had I not been startled into comprehension by what I learned
concerning the poor child in whose behalf I now am writing.
"That instantly sobered me, ending any slightest spark of hope that
I might have in my secret heart still guarded. For, with my new and
terrible knowledge, I understood that I must pass instantly and
completely out of your life; and you out of mine. Only your duty
remained--not to me, but to this other and more unhappy one. And
that path I pray that you will follow when a convenient opportunity
arises.
"I am, sir y' ob't, etc., etc.
"Magdalene Helmer.
"P. S. If you love me, Tom, do your full duty in the name of God!
"Lana."
I handed the letter back to him in silence. He stared at it, not seeing
the written lines, I think, save as a blurr; and after a long while he
leaned forward and laid it on the coals.
"If I am not already foredoomed," he said to me, "what Lana bids me do
that I shall do. It is best, is it not, Loskiel?"
"A clergyman is fitter to reply to you than I."
"Do you not think it best that I marry Dolly Glenn?"
"God knows. It is all too melancholy and too terrible for me to
comprehend the right and wrong of it, or how a penitence is best made.
Yet, as you ask me, it seems to me that what she will one day become
should claim your duty and your future. The weakest ever has the
strongest claim."
"Yes, it-is true. I stand tonight so fettered to an unborn soul that
nothing can unloose me.... I wish that I might live."
"You will live! You must live!"
"Aye, 'must' and 'will' are twins of different complexions, Loskiel....
Yet, if I live, I shall live decently and honestly hereafter in the
sight of God and--Lana Helmer."
We said nothing more. About ten o'clock Boyd rose and went away all
alone. Half an hour later he came back, followed by some score and more
of men, a dozen of our own battalion, half a dozen musket-men of the
4th Pennsylvania Regiment, three others, two Indians, Hanierri, the
headquarters Oneida guide, and Yoiakim, a Stockbridge.
"Volunteers," he said, looking sideways at me. "I know how to take
Amochol; but I must take him in my own manner."
I ventured to remind him of the General's instructions that we find the
Chinisee Castle and report at sunrise.
"Damn it, I know it," he retorted impatiently, "but I have my own
plans; and the General will bear me out when I fling Amochol's scalp at
his feet."
The Grey-Feather drew me aside and said in a low, earnest voice:
"We are too many to surprise Amochol. Before Wyoming, with only three
others I went to Thenondiago, the Castle of the Three Clans--The Bear,
The Wolf, and The Turtle--and there we took and slew Skull-Face,
brother of Amochol, and wounded Telenemut, the husband of Catrine
Montour. By Waiandaia we stretched the scalp of Skull-Face; at
Thaowethon we painted it with Huron and Seneca tear-drops; at Yaowania
we peeled three trees and wrote on each the story so that the Three
Clans might read and howl their anguish. Thus should it be done tonight
if we are to deal with Amochol!"
Once more I ventured to protest to Boyd.
"Leave it to me, Loskiel," he said pleasantly. And I could say no more.
At eleven our party of twenty-nine set out, Hanierri, the Oneida, from
headquarters, guiding us; and I could not understand why Boyd had
chosen him, for I was certain he knew less about this region than did
Mayaro, However, when I spoke to Boyd, he replied that the General had
so ordered, and that Hanierri had full instructions concerning the
route from the commander himself.
As General Sullivan was often misinformed by his maps and his scouts, I
was nothing reassured by Boyd's reply, and marched with my Indians,
feeling in my heart afraid. And, without vaunting myself, nor meaning
to claim any general immunity from fear, I can truly say that for the
first time in my life I set forth upon an expedition with the most
melancholy forebodings possible to a man of ordinary courage and
self-respect.
We followed the hard-travelled war-trail in single file; and Hanierri
did not lose his way, but instead of taking, as he should have done,
the unused path which led to the Chinisee Castle, he passed it and
continued on.
I protested most earnestly to Boyd; the Sagamore corroborated my
opinion when summoned. But Hanierri remained obstinate, declaring that
he had positive information that the Chinisee Castle lay in the
direction we were taking.
Boyd seemed strangely indifferent and dull, making apparently no effort
to sift the matter further. So strange and apathetic had his manner
become, so unlike himself was he, that I could make nothing of him, and
stood in uneasy wonderment while the Mohican and the Oneida, Hanierri,
were gravely disputing.
"Come," he said, in his husky and altered voice, "let us have done with
this difference in opinion. Let the Oneida guide us--as we cannot have
two guides' opinions. March!"
In the darkness we crept past Butler's right flank, silently and
undiscovered; nor could we discover any sign of the enemy, though now
not one among us doubted that he lay hidden along the bluffs, waiting
for our army to move at sunrise into the deadly trap that the nature of
the place had so perfectly provided.
All night long we moved on the hard and trodden trail; and toward dawn
we reached a town. Reconnoitering the place, we found it utterly
abandoned. If the Chinisee Castle lay beyond it, we could not
determine, but Hanierri insisted that it was there. So Boyd sent back
four men to Sullivan to report on what we had done; and we lay in the
woods on the outskirts of the village, to wait for daylight.
When dawn whitened the east, it became plain to us all that we had
taken the wrong direction. The Chinisee Castle was not here. Nothing
lay before us but a deserted village.
I knew not what to make of Boyd, for the discovery of our mistake
seemed to produce no impression on him. He stood at the edge of the
woods, gazing vacantly across the little clearing where the Indian
houses straggled on either side of the trail.
"We have made a bad mistake," I said in a low voice.
"Yes, a bad one," he said listlessly.
"Shall we not start on our return?" I asked.
"There is no hurry."
"I beg your pardon, but I have to remind you that you are to report at
sunrise."
"Aye--if that were possible, Loskiel."
"Possible!" I repeated, blankly. "Why not?"
"Because," he said in a dull voice, "I shall never see another sunrise
save this one that is coming presently. Let me have my fill of it
unvexed by Generals and orders."
"You are not well, Boyd," I said, troubled.
"As well as I shall ever be--but not as ill, Loskiel."
At that moment the Sagamore laid his hand on my shoulder and pointed. I
saw nothing for a moment; then Boyd and Murphy sprang forward, rifles
in hand, and Mayaro after them, and I after them, running into the
village at top speed. For I had caught a glimpse of a most unusual
sight; four Iroquois Indians on horseback, riding into the northern
edge of the town. Never before, save on two or three occasions, had I
ever seen an Iroquois mounted on a horse.
We ran hard to get a shot at them, and beyond the second house came in
full view of our enemies. Murphy fired immediately, knocking the
leading Indian from his horse; I fired, breaking the arm of the next
rider; both my Indians fired and missed; and the Iroquois were off at
full speed. Boyd had not fired.
We ran to where the dead man was lying, and the Mohican recognized him
as an Erie named Sanadaya. Murphy coolly took his scalp, with an
impudent wink at the Sagamore and a grin at Boyd and me.
In the meanwhile, our riflemen and Indians had rushed the town and were
busy tearing open the doors of the houses and setting fire to them. In
vain I urged Boyd to start back, pointing out that this was no place
for us to linger in, and that our army would burn this village in due
time.
But he merely shrugged his shoulders and loitered about, watching his
men at their destruction; and I stood by, a witness to his strange and
inexplicable delay, a prey to the most poignant anxiety because the
entire Tory army lay between us and our own army, and this smoke signal
must draw upon us a very swarm of savages to our inevitable destruction.
At last Boyd sounded the recall on his ranger's whistle, and ordered me
to take my Indians and reconnoiter our back trail. And no sooner had I
entered the woods than I saw an Indian standing about a hundred yards
to the right of the trail, and looking up at the smoke which was
blowing southward through the tree-tops.
His scarlet cloak was thrown back; he was a magnificent warrior, in his
brilliant paint, matching the flaming autumn leaves in colour. My
Indians had not noticed him where he stood against a crimson and yellow
maple bush. I laid my rifle level and fired. He staggered, stood a
moment, turning his crested head with a bewildered air, then swayed,
sank at the knee joints, dropped to them, and very slowly laid his
stately length upon the moss, extending himself like one who prepared
for slumber.
We ran up to where he lay with his eyes closed; he was still breathing.
A great pity for him seized me; and I seated myself on the moss beside
him, staring into his pallid face.
And as I sat beside him while he was dying, he opened his eyes, and
looked at me. And I knew that he knew I had killed him. After a few
moments he died.
"Amochol!" I said under my breath. "God alone knows why I am sorry for
this dead priest." And as I rose and stared about me, I caught sight of
two pointed ears behind a bush; then two more pricked up sharply; then
the head of a wolf popped up over a fallen log. But as I began to
reload my rifle, there came a great scurrying and scattering in the
thickets, and I heard the Andastes running off, leaving their dead
master to me and to my people, who were now arriving.
I do not know who took his scalp; but it was taken by some Indian or
Ranger who came crowding around to look down upon this painted dead man
in his scarlet cloak.
"Amochol is dead," I said to Boyd.
He looked at me with lack-lustre eyes, nodding. We marched on along the
trail by which we had arrived.
For five miles we proceeded in silence, my Indians flanking the file of
riflemen. Then Boyd gave the signal to halt, and sent forward the
Sagamore, the Grey-Feather, and Tahoontowhee to inform the General that
we would await the army in this place.
The Indians, so coolly taken from my command, had gone ere I came up
from the rear to find what Boyd had done.
"Are you mad?" I exclaimed, losing my temper, "Do you propose to halt
here at the very mouth of the hornet's nest?"
He did not rebuke me for such gross lack of discipline and respect--in
fact, he seemed scarcely to heed at all what I said, but seated himself
at the foot of a pine tree and lit his pipe. As I stood biting my lip
and looking around at the woods encircling us, he beckoned two of his
men, gave them some orders in a low voice, crossed one leg over the
other, and continued to smoke the carved and painted Oneida pipe he
carried in his shot-pouch.
I saw the two riflemen shoulder their long weapons and go forward in
obedience to his orders; and when again I approached him he said:
"They will make plain to Sullivan what your Indians may garble in
repeating--that I mean to await the army in this place and save my
party these useless miles of travelling. Do you object?"
"Our men are not tired," I said, astonished, "and our advanced guard
can not be very far away. Do you not think it more prudent for us to
continue the movement toward our own people?"
"Very well--if you like," he said indifferently.
After a few minutes' inaction, he rose, sounded his whistle; the men
got to their feet, fell in, and started, rifles a-trail. But we had
proceeded scarcely a dozen rods into the big timber when we discovered
our two riflemen, who had so recently left us, running back toward us
and looking over their shoulders as they ran. When they saw us, they
halted and shouted for us to hasten, as there were several Seneca
Indians standing beside the trail ahead.
In a flash of intuition it came to me that here was a cleared runway to
some trap.
"Don't leave the trail!" I said to Boyd. "Don't be drawn out of it now.
For God's sake hold your men and don't give chase to those Indians."
"Press on!" said Boyd curtly; and our little column trotted forward.
Something crashed in a near thicket and went off like a deer. The men,
greatly excited, strove to catch a glimpse of the running creature, but
the bush was too dense.
Suddenly a rifleman, who was leading our rapid advance, caught sight of
the same Senecas who had alarmed him and his companion; and he started
toward them with a savage shout, followed by a dozen others.
Hanierri turned to Boyd and begged him earnestly not to permit any
pursuit. But Boyd pushed him aside impatiently, and blew the
view-halloo on his ranger's whistle; and in a moment we all were
scattering in full pursuit of five lithe and agile Senecas, all in full
war-paint, who appeared to be in a panic, for they ran through the
thickets like terrified sheep, huddling and crowding on one another's
heels.
"Boyd!" I panted, catching up with him. "This whole business looks like
a trap to me. Whistle your men back to the trail, for I am certain that
these Senecas are drawing us toward their main body."
"We'll catch one of them first," he said; and shouted to Murphy to fire
and cripple the nearest. But the flying Senecas had now vanished into a
heavily-wooded gully, and there was nothing for Murphy to fire at.
I swung in my tracks, confronting Boyd.
"Will you halt your people before it is too late?" I demanded. "Where
are your proper senses? You behave like a man who has lost his mental
balance!"
He gave me a dazed look, where he had been within his rights had he cut
me down with his hatchet.
"What did you say?" he stammered, passing his hand over his eyes as
though something had obscured his sight.
"I asked you to sound the recall. Those Indians we chase are leading us
whither they will. What in God's name ails you, Boyd? Have you never
before seen an ambush?"
He stood motionless, as though stupefied, staring straight ahead of
him. Then he said, hesitatingly, that he desired Tim Murphy to cripple
one of the Senecas and fetch him in so that we might interrogate him.
Such infant's babble astounded and sickened me, and I was about to
retort when a shout from one of our men drew our attention to the gully
below. And there were our terrified Indians peering out cunningly at us
like so many foxes playing tag with an unbroken puppy pack.
"Come, sir," said I in deepest anxiety, "the game is too plain for
anybody but a fool to follow. Sound your recall!"
He set his whistle to his lips, and as I stood there, thunderstruck and
helpless, the shrill call rang out: "Forward! Hark-away!"
Instantly our entire party leaped forward; the Indians vanished; and we
ran on headlong, pell-mell, hellward into the trap prepared for our
destruction.
The explosion of a heavy rifle on our right was what first halted us, I
think. One of the soldiers from the 4th Pennsylvania was down in the
dead leaves kicking and scuffling about all over blood. Before he had
rolled over twice, a ragged but loud volley on our left went through
our disordered files, knocking over two more soldiers. The screaming of
one poor fellow seemed to bring Boyd to his senses. He blew the recall,
and our men fell back, and, carrying the dead and wounded, began to
ascend the wooded knoll down which we had been running when so abruptly
checked.
There was no more firing for the moment; we reached the top of the
knoll, laid our dead and wounded behind trees, loaded, freshened our
priming, and stood awaiting orders.
Then, all around us, completely encircling the foot of our knoll,
woods, thickets, scattered bushes, seemed to be literally moving in the
vague forest light.
"My God!" exclaimed Elerson to Murphy. "The woods are crawling with
savages!"
A dreadful and utter silence fell among us; Boyd, pale as a corpse,
motioned his men to take posts, forming a small circle with our dead
and wounded in the centre.
I saw Hanierri, the Oneida guide, fling aside his blanket, strip his
painted body to the beaded clout, draw himself up to his full and
superb height, muttering, his eyes fixed on the hundreds of dark shapes
stealing quietly among the thickets below our little hill.
The two Stockbridge Indians, the Yellow Moth and Yoiakim, pressed
lightly against me on either side, like two great, noble dogs, afraid,
yet trusting their master, and still dauntless in the threatening face
of duty.
Through the terrible stillness which had fallen upon us all, I could
hear the Oneida guide muttering his death-song; and presently my two
Christian Indians commenced in low voices to recite the prayers for the
dying.
The next moment, Murphy and Elerson began to fire, slowly and
deliberately; and for a little while these two deadly and unerring
rifles were the only pieces that spoke from our knoll. Then my distant
target showed for a moment; I fired, reloaded, waited; fired again; and
our little circle of doomed men began to cheer as a brilliantly painted
warrior sprang from the thicket below, shouted defiance, and crumpled
up as though smitten by lightning when Murphy's rifle roared out its
fatal retort.
Then, for almost every soul that stood there, the end of the world
began; for a thousand men swarmed out of the thickets below, completely
surrounding us; and like a hurricane shrilling through naked woods
swept the death-halloo of five hundred Iroquois in their naked paint.
On every side the knoll was black with them as they came leaping
forward, hatchets glittering; while over their heads the leaden hail of
Tory musketry pelted us from north and south and east and west.
Down crashed Yoiakim at my side, his rifle exploding in mid-air as he
fell dead and rolled over and over down the slope toward the masses of
his enemies below.
As a Seneca seized the rolling body, set his foot on the dead shoulders
and jerked back the head to scalp him, the Yellow Moth leaped forward,
launching his hatchet. It flew, sparkling, and struck the scalper full
in the face. The next instant the Yellow Moth was among them, snarling,
stabbing, raging, almost covered by Senecas who were wounding one
another in their eagerness to slay him.
For a moment it seemed to me that there was a chance in this melee for
us to cut our way through, and I caught Boyd by the arm and pointed. A
volley into our very backs staggered and almost stupefied us; through
the swirling powder gloom, our men began to fall dead all around me. I
saw Sergeant Hungerman drop; privates Harvey, Conrey, Jim McElroy, Jack
Miller, Benny Curtin and poor Jack Putnam.
Murphy, clubbing his rifle, was bawling to his comrade, Elerson:
"To hell wid this, Davey! Av we don't pull foot we're a pair o' dead
ducks!"
"For God's sake, Boyd!" I shouted. "Break through there beside the
Yellow Moth!"
Boyd, wielding his clubbed rifle, cleared a circle amid the crowding
savages; Sergeant Parker ran out into the yelling crush; the two
gigantic riflemen, Murphy and Elerson, swinging their terrible weapons
like flails, smashed their way forward; behind them, using knife,
hatchet, and stock, I led out the last men living on that knoll--Ned
McDonald, Garrett Putnam, Jack Youse, and a French coureur-de-bois
whose name I have never learned.
All around us raged and yelled the maddened Seneca pack, slashing each
other again and again in their crazed attempts to reach us. The Yellow
Moth was stabbed through and through a hundred times, yet the ghastly
corpse still kept its feet, so terrible was the crushing pressure on
every side.
Suddenly, tearing a path through the frenzied mob, I saw a mob of
cursing, sweating, green-coated soldiers and rangers, struggling toward
us--saw one of Butler's rangers seize Sergeant Parker by the collar of
his hunting shirt, bawling out:
"Hurrah! Hurrah! Prisoner taken from Morgan's corps!"
Another, an officer of British regulars, I think, threw himself on
Boyd, shouting:
"By heaven! It's Boyd of Derry! Are you not Tom Boyd, of Derry,
Pennsylvania?"
"Yes, you bloody-backed Tory!" retorted Boyd, struggling to knife him
under his gorget. "And I'm Boyd of Morgan's, too!"
I aimed a blow at the red-coated officer, but my rifle stock broke off
across the skull of an Indian; and I began to beat a path toward Boyd
with the steel barrel of my weapon, Murphy and Elerson raging forward
beside me in such a very whirlwind of half-crazed fury that the Indians
gave way and leaped aside, trying to shoot at us.
Headlong through this momentary opening rushed Garrett Putnam, his
rifle-dress torn from his naked body, his heavy knife dripping in the
huge fist that clutched it. After him leaped Ned McDonald, the
coureur-de-bois, and Jack Youse, letting drive right and left with
their hatchets. And, as the painted crowd ahead recoiled and shrank
aside, Murphy, Elerson, and I went through, smashing out the way with
our heavy weapons.
How we got through God only knows. I heard Murphy bellowing to Elerson:
"We're out! We're out! Pull foot, Davey, or the dirty Scutts will take
your hair!"
A Pennsylvania soldier, running heavily down hill ahead of me, was
shot, sprang high into the air in one agonized bound, like a stricken
hare, and fell forward under my very feet, so that I leaped over him as
I ran. The Canadian coureur-de-bois was hit, but the bullet stung him
to a speed incredible, and he flew on, screaming with pain, his broken
arm flapping.
Behind me I dared not look, but I knew the Seneca warriors were after
us at full speed. Bullets whined and whizzed beside us, striking the
trees on every side. A long slope of open woods now slanted away below
us.
As I ran, far ahead of me, among the trees, I saw men moving, yet dared
not change my course. Then, as I drew nearer, I recognized Mr. Lodge,
our surveyor, and Thomas Grant with the Jacob-staff, the four
chain-bearers with the chain, and Corporal Calhawn, all standing stock
still and gazing up the slope toward us.
The next moment Grant dropped his Jacob-staff, turned and ran; the
chain-men flung away their implements, and Mr. Lodge and the entire
party, being totally unarmed, turned and fled, we on their heels, and
behind us a score of yelling Senecas, now driven to frenzy by the sight
of so much terrified game in flight.
I saw poor Calhawn fall; I saw Grant run into the swamp below, shouting
for help. Mr. Lodge, closely chased by a young warrior, ran toward a
distant sentinel, and so eager was the Seneca to slay him that he
chased the fleeing surveyor past the sentinel, and was shot in the back
by the amazed soldier.
And now, all along the edge of the morass where our pickets were
posted, the bang! bang! bang! of musketry began. Murphy and Elerson
bounded into safety; Ned McDonald, Garrett Putnam, the coureur-de-bais,
and Jack Youse went staggering and reeling into the swamp. I attempted
to follow them, but three Senecas cut me out, and, with bursting heart,
I sheered off and ran parallel with them, striving to reach our lines,
the sentinels firing at my pursuers and running forward to intercept
them. Yet, so intent were these Seneca bloodhounds on my destruction
that they never swerved under the running fire of musketry; and I was
forced out and driven into the woods again to the northwest of our
lines.
Farther and farther away sounded the musketry in my ears, until the
pounding pulses deadened and finally obliterated the sound. I could no
longer carry the shattered and bloody fragment of my rifle, and dropped
it. Bullet-pouch, shot-pouch, powder-horn, water-bottle, hatchet I let
fall, keeping only my knife, belt, and the thin, flat wallet which
contained my letters from Lois and my journal. Even my cap I flung
away, moving always forward on a dog-trot, and ever twisting my
sweat-drenched head to look behind.
Several times I caught distant glimpses of my pursuers, and saw that
they walked sometimes, as though exhausted. Yet, I dared not bear to
the South, not knowing how many of them had continued on westward to
cut me off from a return; so I jogged on northward, my heart nigh
broken with misery and foreboding, sickened to the very soul with the
memory of our slaughtered men upon the knoll. For of some thirty-odd
riflemen, Indians, line soldiers, and scouts that Boyd had led out the
night before, only Elerson, Murphy, McDonald, Youse, the
coureur-de-bois, and I remained alive or untaken. Boyd was a prisoner,
together with Sergeant Parker; all the others were dead to a man,
excepting possibly my three Indians, Mayaro, Grey-Feather, and
Tahoontowhee, who Boyd had sent in to report us before we had sighted
the Senecas, and who might possibly have escaped the ambuscade.
As I plodded on, I dared not let my imagination dwell on Boyd and
Parker, for a dreadful instinct told me that the dead men on the knoll
were better off. Yet, I tried to remember that a red-coated officer had
taken Boyd, and one of Sir John's soldiers had captured Michael Parker.
But I could find no comfort, no hope in this thought, because Walter
Butler was there, and Hiokatoo, and McDonald, and all that bloody band.
The Senecas would surely demand the prisoners. There was not one soul
to speak a word for them, unless Brant were near. That noble and humane
warrior alone could save them from the Seneca stake. And I feared he
was at the burnt bridge with his Mohawks, facing our army as he always
faced it, dauntless, adroit, resourceful, and terrible.
A little stony stream ran down beside the trackless course I travelled
and I seized the chance of confusing the tireless men who tracked me,
and took to the stones, springing from one step to the next, taking
care not to wet my moccasins, dislodge moss or lichen, or in any manner
mark the stones I trod on or break or disturb the branches and leaves
above me.
The stream ran almost north as did all the little water-courses
hereabouts, and for a long while I followed it, until at last, to my
great relief, it divided; and I followed the branch that ran northeast.
Again this branch forked; I took the eastern course until, on the right
bank, I saw long, naked beds of rock stretching into low crags and
curving eastward.
Over this rock no Seneca could hope to track a cautious and hunted man.
I walked sometimes, sometimes trotted; and so jogged on, bearing ever
to the east and south, meaning to cross the Chinisee River north of the
confluence, and pass clear around the head of the lake.
Here I made my mistake by assuming that, as our pioneers must still be
working on the burnt bridge, the enemy that had merely enveloped our
party by curling around us his right flank, would again swing back to
their bluffs along the lake, and, though hope of ambuscade was over,
dispute the passage of the stream and the morass with our own people.
But as I came out among the trees along the river bank, to my
astonishment and alarm I saw an Indian house, and smoke curling from
the chimney. So taken aback was I that I ran south to a great oak tree
and stood behind it, striving to collect my thoughts and make out my
proper bearings. But off again scattered every idea I had in my head,
and I looked about me in a very panic, for I heard close at hand the
barking of Indian dogs and a vast murmur of voices; and, peering out
again from behind my tree I could see other houses close to the strip
of forest where I hid, and the narrow lane between them was crowded
with people.
Where I was, what this town might be, I could not surmise; nor did I
perceive any way out of this wasp's nest where I was now landed, except
to retrace my trail. And that I dared not do.
There was now a great shouting in the village as though some person had
just made a speech and his audience remained in two nods concerning its
import.
Truly, this seemed to be no place for me; the woods were very open--a
sugar bush in all the gorgeous glory of scarlet, yellow, and purple
foliage, heavily fringed with thickets of bushes and young hardwood
growth, which for the moment had hid the town from me, and no doubt
concealed me from the people close at hand. To retreat through such a
strip of woodland was impossible without discovery. Besides, somewhere
on my back trail were enemies, though just where I could not know. For
a moment's despair, it seemed to me that only the wings of a bird could
save me now; then, as I involuntarily cast my gaze aloft, the thought
to climb followed; and up I went into the branches, where the blaze of
foliage concealed me; and lay close to a great limb looking down over
the top of the thicket to the open river bank. And what I saw astounded
me; the enemy's baggage wagons were fording the river; his cattle-drove
had just been herded across, and the open space was already full of his
gaunt cows and oxen.
Rangers and Greens pricked them forward with their bayonets, forcing
them out of the opening and driving them northwest through the
outskirts of the village. The wagons, horses, and vehicles, in a
dreadful plight, followed the herd-guard. After them marched Butler's
rear-guard, rangers, Greens, renegades, Indians sullenly turning their
heads to listen and to gaze as the uproar from the village increased
and burst into a very frenzy of diabolical yelling.
Suddenly, out through the narrow lane or street surged hundreds of
Seneca warriors, all clustering and crowding around something in the
centre of the mass; and as the throng, now lurching this way, now
driving that way, spread out over the cleared land up to the edges of
the very thicket which I overlooked, my blood froze in my veins.
For in the centre of that mass of painted, capering demons, walked Boyd
and Parker, their bloodless faces set and grim, their heads carried
high.
Into this confusion drove the baggage wagons; the herd-guards began to
shout angrily and drive back the Indians; the wagons drove slowly
through the lane, the drivers looking down curiously at Boyd and his
pallid companion, but not insulting them.
One by one the battered and rickety wagons jolted by; then came the
bloody and dishevelled soldiery plodding with shouldered muskets
through the lanes of excited warriors, scarcely letting their haggard
eyes rest on the two prisoners who stood, unpinioned in the front rank.
A mounted officer, leaning from his saddle, asked the Senecas what they
meant to do with these prisoners; and the ferocious response seemed to
shock him, for he drew bridle and stared at Boyd as though fascinated.
So near to where I lay was Boyd standing that I could see the checked
quiver of his lips as he bit them to control his nerves before he
spoke. Then he said to the mounted officer, in a perfectly even and
distinct voice:
"Can you not secure for us, sir, the civilized treatment of prisoners
of war?"
"I dare not interfere," faltered the officer, staring around at the sea
of devilish faces.
"And you, a white man, return me such a cowardly answer?"
Another motley company came marching up from the river, led by a superb
Mohawk Indian in full war-paint and feathers; and, blocked by the
mounted officer in front, halted.
I saw Boyd's despairing glance sweep their files; then suddenly his
eyes brightened.
"Brant!" he cried.
And then I saw that the splendid Mohawk leader was the great
Thayendanegea himself.
"Boyd," he said calmly, "I am sorry for you. I would help you if I
could. But," he added, with a bitter smile, "there are those in
authority among us who are more savage than those you white men call
savages. One of these--gentlemen--has overruled me, denying my more
humane counsel.... I am sorry, Boyd."
"Brant!" he said in a ringing voice. "Look at me attentively!"
"I look upon you, Boyd."
Then something extraordinary happened; I saw Boyd make a quick sign;
saw poor Parker imitate him; realized vaguely that it was the Masonic
signal of distress.
Brant remained absolutely motionless for a full minute; suddenly he
sprang forward, pushed away the Senecas who immediately surrounded the
prisoners, shoving them aside right and left so fiercely that in a
moment the whole throng was wavering and shrinking back.
Then Brant, facing the astonished warriors, laid his hand on Boyd's
head and then on Parker's.
"Senecas!" he said in a cold and ringing voice. "These men are mine;
Let no man dare interfere with these two prisoners. They belong to me.
I now give them my promise of safety. I take them under my
protection--I, Thayendanegea! I do not ask them of you; I take them. I
do not explain why. I do not permit you--not one among you to--to
question me. What I have done is done. It is Joseph Brant who has
spoken!"
He turned calmly to Boyd, said something in a low voice, turned sharply
on his heel, and marched forward at the head of his company of Mohawks
and halfbreeds.
Then I saw Hiokatoo come up and stand glaring at Boyd, showing his
teeth at him like a baffled wolf; and Boyd laughed in his face and
seated himself on a log beside the path, coolly and insolently turning
his back on the Seneca warriors, and leisurely lighting his pipe.
Parker came and seated himself beside him; and they conversed in voices
so low that I could not hear what they said, but Boyd smiled at
intervals, and Parker's bruised visage relaxed.
The Senecas had fallen back in a sullen line, their ferocious eyes
never shifting from the two prisoners. Hiokatoo set four warriors to
guard them, then, passing slowly in front of Boyd, spat on the ground.
"Dog of a Seneca!" said Boyd fiercely. "What you touch you defile,
stinking wolverine that you are!"
"Dog of a white man!" retorted Hiokatoo. "You are not yet in your own
kennel! Remember that!"
"But you are!" said Boyd. "The stench betrays the wolverine! Go tell
your filthy cubs that my young men are counting the scalps of your
Cat-People and your Andastes, and that the mangy lock of Amochol shall
be thrown to our swine!"
Struck entirely speechless by such rash effrontery and by his own fury,
the dreaded Seneca war-chief groped for his hatchet with trembling
hands; but a warning hiss from one of his own Mountain Snakes on guard
brought him to his senses.
Such an embodiment of devilish fury I had never seen on any human
countenance; only could it be matched in the lightning snarl of a
surprised lynx or in the deadly stare of a rattlesnake. He uttered no
sound; after a moment the thin lips, which had receded, sheathed the
teeth again; and he walked to a tree and stood leaning against it as
another company of Sir John's Royal Greens marched up from the river
bank and continued northwest, passing between the tree where I lay
concealed, and the log where Boyd and Parker sat.
McDonald, mounted, naked claymore in his hand, came by, leading a
company of his renegades. He grinned at Boyd, and passed his
basket-hilt around his throat with a significant gesture, then grinned
again.
"Not yet, you Scotch loon!" said Boyd gently. "I'll live to pepper your
kilted tatterdemalions so they'll beg for the mercies of Glencoe!"
After that, for a long while only stragglers came limping by--lank,
bloody, starved creatures, who never even turned their sick eyes on the
people they passed among.
Then, after nearly half an hour, a full battalion of Johnson's Greens
forded the river, and behind them came Butler's Rangers.
Old John Butler, squatting his saddle like a weather-beaten toad, rode
by with scarcely a glance at the prisoners; and Greens and Rangers
passed on through the village and out of sight to the northwest.
I had thought the defile was ended, when, looking back, I saw some
Indians crossing the ford, carrying over a white officer. At first I
supposed he was wounded, but soon saw that he had not desired to wet
his boots.
What had become of his horse I could only guess, for he wore spurs and
sword, and the sombre uniform of the Rangers.
Then, as he came up I saw that he was Walter Butler.
As he approached, his dark eyes were fixed on the prisoners; and when
he came opposite to them he halted.
Boyd returned his insolent stare very coolly, continuing to smoke his
pipe. Slowly the golden-brown eyes of Butler contracted, and into his
pale, handsome, but sinister face crept a slight colour.
"So you are Boyd!" he said menacingly.
"Yes, I am Boyd. What next?"
"What next?" repeated Walter Butler. "Well, really I don't know, my
impudent friend, but I strongly suspect the Seneca stake will come
next."
Boyd laughed: "We gave Brant a sign that you also should recognize. We
are now under his protection."
"What sign?" demanded Butler, his eyes becoming yellow and fixed. And,
as Boyd carelessly repeated the rapid and mystical appeal, "Oh!" he
said coolly. "So that is what you count on, is it?"
"Naturally."
"With me also?"
"You are a Mason."
"Also," snarled Butler, "I am an officer in his British Majesty's
service. Now, answer the questions I put to you. How many cannon did
your Yankee General send back to Tioga after Catharines-town was burnt,
and how many has he with him?"
"Do you suppose that I am going to answer your questions?" said Boyd,
amused.
"I think you will, Come, sir; what artillery is he bringing north with
him?"
And as Boyd merely looked at him with contempt, he stepped nearer, bent
suddenly, and jerked Boyd to his feet.
"You Yankee dog!" he said; "Stand up when your betters stand!"
Boyd reddened to his temples.
"Murderer!" he said. "Does a gentleman stand in the presence of the
Cherry Valley butcher?" And he seated himself again on his log.
Butler's visage became deathly, and for a full minute he stood there in
silence. Suddenly he turned, nodded to Hiokatoo, pointed at Boyd, then
at Parker. Both prisoners rose as a yell of ferocious joy split the air
from the Senecas. Then, wheeling on Boyd:
"Will you answer my questions?"
"No!"
"Do you refuse to answer the military questions put to you by an
officer?"
"No prisoner of war is compelled to do that!"
"You are mistaken; I compel you to answer on pain of death!"
"I refuse."
Both men were deadly pale. Parker also had risen and was now standing
beside Boyd.
"I claim the civilized treatment due to an officer," said Boyd quietly.
"Refused unless you answer!"
"I shall not answer. I am under Brant's protection!"
"Brant!" exclaimed Butler, his pallid visage contorted. "What do I care
for Brant? Who is Brant to offer you immunity? By God, sir, I tell you
that you shall answer my questions--any I think fit to ask you--every
one of them--or I turn you over to my Senecas!"
"You dare not!"
"Answer me, or you shall soon learn what I dare and dare not do!"
Boyd, pale as a sheet, said slowly:
"I do believe you capable of every infamy, Mr. Butler. I do believe,
now, that the murderer of little children will sacrifice me to these
Senecas if I do not answer his dishonorable questions. And so,
believing this, and always holding your person in the utmost loathing
and contempt, I refuse to reveal to you one single item concerning the
army in which I have the honour and privilege to serve."
"Take him!" said Butler to the crowding Senecas.
I have never been able to bring myself to write down how my comrade
died. Many have written something of his death, judging the manner of
it from the condition in which his poor body was discovered the next
day by our advance. Yet, even these have shrunk from writing any but
the most general details, because the horror of the truth is
indescribable, and not even the most callous mind could endure it all.
God knows how I myself survived the swimming horror of that hellish
scene--for the stake was hewn and planted full within my view.... And
it took him many hours to die--all the long September afternoon.... And
they never left him for one moment.
No, I can not write it, nor could I even tell my comrades when they
came up next day, how in detail died Thomas Boyd, lieutenant in my
regiment of rifles. Only from what was left of him could they draw
their horrible and unthinkable conclusions.
I do not know whether I have more or less of courage than the usual man
and soldier, but this I do know, that had I possessed a rifle where I
lay concealed, long before they wrenched the first groan from his
tortured body I would have fired at my comrade's heart and trusted to
my Maker and my legs.
No torture that I ever heard of or could ever have conceived--no
punishment, no agony, no Calvary ever has matched the hellish
hideousness of the endless execution of this young man.... He was only
twenty-two years old; only a lieutenant among the thousands who served
their common motherland. No man who ever lived has died more bravely;
none, perhaps, as horribly and as slowly. And it seemed as though in
that powerful, symmetrical, magnificent body, even after it became
scarcely recognizable as human, that the spark of life could not be
extinguished even though it were cut into a million shreds and
scattered to the winds like the fair body of Osiris.
And this is all I care to say how it was that my comrade died, save
that he endured bravely; and that while consciousness remained, not one
secret would he reveal; not one plea for mercy escaped his lips.
Parker died more swiftly and mercifully.
It was after sunset when the Senecas left the place, but the sky above
was still rosy. And as they slowly marched past the corpses of the two
men whom they had slain, every Seneca drew his hatchet and shouted:
"Salute! O Roya-neh!" fiercely honoring the dead bodies of the bravest
men who had ever died in the Long House.
On the following afternoon I ventured from my concealment, and was
striving to dig a grave for my two comrades, using my knife to do it,
when the riflemen of our advance discovered me across the river.
A moment later I looked up, my eyes blinded by tears, as the arm of the
Sagamore was flung round my shoulders, and the hands of the
Grey-Feather and Tahoontowhee timidly sought mine.
"Brother!" they said gently.
* "Tekasenthos, O Sagamore!" I whispered, dropping my head on his broad
shoulder. "Issi tye-y-ad-akeron, akwah de-ya-kon-akor-on-don!"
[* "I weep, O Sagamore! Yonder are lying bodies, yea, and of chiefs!"]