THE RUNNER
Fort Refuge, the stronghold raised by young arms, was the most distant
point in the wilderness held by the Anglo-American forces, and for a
long time it was cut off entirely from the world. No message came out
of the great forest that rimmed it round, but Colden had been told to
build it and hold it until he had orders to leave it, and he and his
men waited patiently, until word of some kind should come or they
should be attacked by the French and Indian forces that were gathering
continually in the north.
They saw the autumn reach its full glory. The wilderness glowed in
intense yellows and reds. The days grew cool, and the nights cold, the
air was crisp and fresh like the breath of life, the young men felt
their muscles expand and their courage rise, and they longed for the
appearance of the enemy, sure that behind their stout palisade they
would be able to defeat whatever numbers came.
Tayoga left them early one morning for a visit to his people. The
leaves were falling then under a sharp west wind, and the sky had a
cold, hard tint of blue steel. Winter was not far away, but the day
suited a runner like Tayoga who wished to make speed through the
wilderness. He stood for a moment or two at the edge of the forest, a
strong, slender figure outlined against the brown, waved his hand to
his friends watching on the palisade, and then disappeared.
"A great Indian," said young Wilton thoughtfully. "I confess that I
never knew much about the red men or thought much about them until I
met him. I don't recall having come into contact with a finer mind of
its kind."
"Most of the white people make the mistake of undervaluing the
Indians," said Robert, "but we'll learn in this war what a power they
are. If the Hodenosaunee had turned against us we'd have been beaten
already."
"At any rate, Tayoga is a noble type. Since I had to come into the
forest I'm glad to meet such fellows as he. Do you think, Lennox, that
he'll get through safely?"
Robert laughed.
"Get through safely?" he repeated. "Why, Tayoga is the fastest runner
among the Indian nations, and they train for speed. He goes like the
wind, he never tires, night and day are the same to him, he's so light
of foot that he could pass through a band of his own comrades and they
would never know he was there, and yet his own ears are so keen that
he can hear the leaves falling a hundred yards away. The path from
here to the vale of Onondaga may be lined on either side with the
French and the hostile tribes, standing as thick as trees in the
forest, but he will flit between them as safely and easily as you and
I would ride along a highroad into Philadelphia. He will arrive at the
vale of Onondaga, unharmed, at the exact minute he intends to arrive,
and he will return, reaching Fort Refuge also on the exact day, and at
the exact hour and minute he has already selected."
The young Quaker surveyed Robert with admiration and then laughed.
"What they tell of you is true," he said. "In truth that was a most
gorgeous and rounded speech you made about your friend. I don't recall
finer and more flowing periods! What vividness! What imagery! I'm
proud to know you, Lennox!"
Robert reddened and then laughed.
"I do grow enthusiastic when I talk about Tayoga," he said, "but
you'll see that what I predict will come to pass. He's probably told
Willet just when he'll be back at Fort Refuge. We'll ask him."
The hunter informed them that Tayoga intended to take exactly ten
days.
"This is Monday," he said. "He'll be here a week from next Thursday at
noon."
"But suppose something happens to detain him," said Wilton, "suppose
the weather is too bad for traveling, or suppose a lot of other things
that can happen easily."
Willet shrugged his shoulders.
"In such a case as this where Tayoga is concerned," he said, "we don't
suppose anything, we go by certainties. Before he left, Tayoga
settled the day and the hour when he would return and it's not now a
problem or a question. He has disposed of the subject."
"I can't quite see it that way," said Wilton tenaciously. "I admit
that Tayoga is a wonderful fellow, but he cannot possibly tell the
exact hour of his return from such a journey as the one he has
undertaken."
"You wait and see," said the hunter in the utmost good nature. "You
think you know Tayoga, but you don't yet know him fully."
"If I were not a Quaker I'd wager a small sum of money that he does
not come at the time appointed," said Wilton.
"Then it's lucky for your pocket that you're a Quaker," laughed
Willet.
It turned much colder that very afternoon, and the raw edge of winter
showed. The wind from the northwest was bitter and the dead leaves
fell in showers. At dusk a chilling rain began, and the young
soldiers, shivering, were glad enough to seek the shelter of the
blockhouse, where a great fire was blazing on the broad hearth. They
had made many rude camp stools and sitting down on one before the
blaze Wilton let the pleasant warmth fall upon his face.
"I'm sorry for Tayoga," he said to Robert. "Just when you and Willet
were boasting most about him this winter rain had to come and he was
no more than fairly started. He'll have to hunt a den somewhere in the
forest and crouch in it wrapped in his blanket."
Robert smiled serenely.
"Den! Crouch! Wrapped in his blanket! What do you mean?" he asked in
his mellow, golden voice. "Are you speaking of my friend, Tayoga, of
the Clan of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the great League of
the Hodenosaunee? Can it be possible, Wilton, that you are referring
to him, when you talk of such humiliating subterfuges?"
"I refer to him and none other, Lennox. I see him now, stumbling about
in the deep forest, looking for shelter."
"No, Wilton, you don't see Tayoga. You merely see an idle figment of a
brain that does not yet fully know my friend, the great young Onondaga.
But _I_ see him, and I see him clearly. I behold a tall, strong figure,
head slightly bent against the rain, eyes that see in the dark as well
as yours see in the brightest sunlight, feet that move surely and
steadily in the path, never stumbling and never veering, tireless
muscles that carry him on without slackening."
"Dithyrambic again, Lennox. You are certainly loyal to your friend. As
for me, I'm glad I'm not out there in the black and wet forest. No
human being can keep to his pace at such a time."
Robert again smiled serenely, but he said nothing more. His confidence
was unlimited. Presently he wrapped around his body a rude but
serviceable overcoat of beaver skin that he had made for himself, and
went out. The cold, drizzling icy rain that creeps into one's veins
was still falling, and he shivered despite his furs. He looked toward
the northeast whither Tayoga's course took him, and he felt sorry for
his red comrade, but he never doubted that he was speeding on his way
with sure and unfaltering step.
The sentinels, mounted on the broad plank that ran behind the
palisade, were walking to and fro, wrapped to their eyes. A month or
two earlier they might have left everything on such a night to take
care of itself, but now they knew far better. Captain Colden, with the
terrible lesson of the battle in the bush, had become a strict
disciplinarian, and Willet was always at his elbow with unobtrusive
but valuable advice which the young Philadelphian had the good sense
to welcome.
Robert spoke to them, and one or two referred to the Indian runner who
had gone east, saying that he might have had a better night for his
start. The repetition of Wilton's words depressed Robert for a moment,
but his heart came back with a bound. Nothing could defeat
Tayoga. Did he not know his red comrade? The wilderness was like a
trimmed garden to him, and neither rain, nor hail, nor snow could stop
him.
As he said the word "hail" to himself it came, pattering upon the dead
leaves and the palisade in a whirlwind of white pellets. Again he
shivered, and knowing it was no use to linger there returned inside,
where most of the men had already gone to sleep. He stretched himself
on his blanket and followed them in slumber. When he awoke the next
morning it was still hailing, and Wilton said in a serious tone that
he hoped Tayoga would give up the journey and come back to Fort
Refuge.
"I like that Onondaga," he said, "and I don't want him to freeze to
death in the forest. Why, the earth and all the trees are coated with
ice now, and even if a man lives he is able to make no progress."
Once more Robert smiled serenely.
"You're thinking of the men you knew in Philadelphia, Will," he
said. "They, of course, couldn't make such a flight through a white
forest, but Tayoga is an altogether different kind of fellow. He'll
merely exert himself a little more, and go on as fast as ever."
Wilton looked at the vast expanse of glittering ice, and then drew the
folds of a heavy cloak more closely about his body.
"I rejoice," he said, "that it's the Onondaga and not myself who has
to make the great journey. I rejoice, too, that we have built this
fort. It's not Philadelphia, that fine, true, comfortable city, but
it's shelter against the hard winter that I see coming so fast."
Colden, still following the advice of Willet, kept his men busy,
knowing that idleness bred discontent and destroyed discipline. At
least a dozen soldiers, taught by Willet and Robert, had developed
into excellent hunters, and as the game was abundant, owing to the
absence of Indians, they had killed deer, bear, panther and all the
other kinds of animals that ranged these forests. The flesh of such as
were edible was cured and stored, as they foresaw the day when many
people might be in Fort Refuge and the food would be needed. The skins
also were dressed and were put upon the floor or hung upon the
walls. The young men working hard were happy nevertheless, as they
were continually learning new arts. And the life was healthy to an
extraordinary degree. All the wounded were as whole as before, and
everybody acquired new and stronger muscles.
Their content would have been yet greater in degree had they been able
to learn what was going on outside, in that vast world where France
and Britain and their colonies contended so fiercely for the
mastery. But they looked at the wall of the forest, and it was a
blank. They were shut away from all things as completely as Crusoe on
his island. Nor would they hear a single whisper until Tayoga came
back--if he came back.
On the second day after the Onondaga's departure the air softened, but
became darker. The glittering white of the forest assumed a more
somber tinge, clouds marched up in solemn procession from the
southwest, and mobilized in the center of the heavens, a wind, touched
with damp, blew. Robert knew very well what the elements portended and
again he was sorry for Tayoga, but as before, after the first few
moments of discouragement his courage leaped up higher than ever. His
brilliant imagination at once painted a picture in which every detail
was vivid and full of life, and this picture was of a vast forest,
trees and bushes alike clothed in ice, and in the center of it a
slender figure, but straight, tall and strong, Tayoga himself speeding
on like the arrow from the bow, never wavering, never weary. Then his
mind allowed the picture to fade. Wilton might not believe Tayoga
could succeed, but how could this young Quaker know Tayoga as he knew
him?
The clouds, having finished their mobilization in the center of the
heavens, soon spread to the horizon on every side. Then a single great
white flake dropped slowly and gracefully from the zenith, fell within
the palisade, and melted before the eyes of Robert and Wilton. But it
was merely a herald of its fellows which, descending at first like
skirmishers, soon thickened into companies, regiments, brigades,
divisions and armies. Then all the air was filled with the flakes, and
they were so thick they could not see the forest.
"The first snow of the winter and a big one," said Wilton, "and again
I give thanks for our well furnished fort. There may be greater
fortresses in Europe, and of a certainty there are many more famous,
but there is none finer to me than this with its' stout log walls, its
strong, broad roofs, and its abundance of supplies. Once more, though,
I'm sorry for your friend, Tayoga. A runner may go fast over ice, if
he's extremely sure of foot and his moccasins are good, but I know of
no way in which he can speed like the gull in its flight through deep
snow."
"Not through the snow, but he may be on it," said Robert.
"And how on it, wise but cryptic young sir?"
"Snow shoes."
"But he took none with him and had none to take."
"Which proves nothing. The Indians often hide in the forest articles
they'll need at some far day. A canoe may be concealed in a thicket at
the creek's edge, a bow and arrows may be thrust away under a ledge,
all awaiting the coming of their owner when he needs them most."
"The chance seems too small to me, Lennox. I can't think a pair of
snow shoes will rise out of the forest just when Tayoga wants 'em,
walk up to him and say: 'Please strap us on your feet.' I make
concession freely that the Onondaga is a most wonderful fellow, but he
can't work miracles. He does not hold such complete mastery over the
wilderness that it will obey his lightest whisper. I read fairy tales
in my youth and they pleased me much, but alas! they were fairy
tales! The impossible doesn't happen!"
"Who's the great talker now? Your words were flowing then like the
trickling of water from a spout. But you're wrong, Will, about the
impossible. The impossible often happens. Great spirits like Tayoga
love the impossible. It draws them on, it arouses their energy, they
think it worth while. I've seen Tayoga more than once since he
started, as plainly as I see you, Will. Now, I shut my eyes and I
behold him once more. He's in the forest. The snow is pouring down. It
lies a foot deep on the ground, the boughs bend with it, and sometimes
they crack under it with a report like that of a rifle. The tops of
the bushes crowned with white bend their weight toward the ground, the
panthers, the wolves, and the wildcats all lie snug in their
dens. It's a dead world save for one figure. Squarely in the center of
it I see Tayoga, bent over a little, but flying straight forward at a
speed that neither you nor I could match, Will. His feet do not sink
in the snow. He skims upon it like a swallow through the air. His feet
are encased in something long and narrow. He has on snow shoes and he
goes like the wind!"
"You do have supreme confidence in the Onondaga, Lennox!"
"So would you if you knew him as I do, Will, a truth I've told you
several times already."
"But he can't provide for every emergency!"
"Must I tell you for the twentieth time that you don't know Tayoga as
I know him?"
"No, Lennox, but I'll wait and see what happens."
The fall of snow lasted the entire day and the following night. The
wilderness was singularly beautiful, but it was also inaccessible,
comfortable for those in the fort, but outside the snow lay nearly two
feet deep.
"I hope that vision of yours comes true," said Wilton to Robert, as
they looked at the forest. "They say the Highland Scotch can go into
trances or something of that kind, and look into the future, and I
believe the Indians claim the gift, but I've never heard that English
and Americans assumed the possession of such powers."
"I'm no seer," laughed Robert. "I merely use my imagination and
produce for myself a picture of things two or three days ahead."
"Which comes to the same thing. Well, we'll see. I take so great an
interest in the journey of your Onondaga friend that somehow I feel
myself traveling along with him."
"I know I'm going with him or I wouldn't have seen him flying ahead on
his snow shoes. But come, Will, I've promised to teach you how to sew
buckskin with tendons and sinews, and I'm going to see that you do
it."
The snow despite its great depth was premature, because on the fourth
day soft winds began to blow, and all the following night a warm rain
fell. It came down so fast that the whole earth was flooded, and the
air was all fog and mist. The creek rose far beyond its banks, and the
water stood in pools and lakes in the forest.
"Now, in very truth, our friend Tayoga has been compelled to seek a
lair," said Wilton emphatically. "His snow shoes would be the
sorriest of drags upon his feet in mud and water, and without them he
will sink to his knees. The wilderness has become impassable."
Robert laughed.
"I see no way out of it for him," said Wilton.
"But I do."
"Then what, in Heaven's name, is it?"
"I not only see the way for Tayoga, but I shut my eyes once more and I
see him using it. He has put away his snow shoes, and, going to the
thick bushes at the edge of a creek, he has taken out his hidden
canoe. He has been in it some time, and with mighty sweeps of the
paddle, that he knows so well how to use, it flies like a wild duck
over the water. Now he passes from the creek into a river flowing
eastward, and swollen by the floods to a vast width. The rain has
poured upon him, but he does not mind it. The powerful exercise with
the paddles dries his body, and sends the pleasant warmth through
every vein. His feet and ankles rest, after his long flight on the
snow shoes, and his heart swells with pleasure, because it is one of
the easiest parts of his journey. His rifle is lying by his side, and
he could seize it in a moment should an enemy appear, but the forest
on either side of the stream is deserted, and he speeds on unhindered.
There may be better canoemen in the world than Tayoga, but I doubt
it."
"Come, come, Lennox! You go too far! I can admit the possibility of
the snow shoes and their appearance at the very moment they're needed,
but the evocation of a river and a canoe at the opportune instant puts
too high a strain upon credibility."
"Then don't believe it unless you wish to do so," laughed Robert, "but
as for me I'm not only believing it, but I'm almost at the stage of
knowing it."
The flood was so great that all hunting ceased for the time, and the
men stayed under shelter in the fort, while the fires were kept
burning for the sake of both warmth and cheer. But they were on the
edge of the great Ohio Valley, where changes in temperature are often
rapid and violent. The warm rain ceased, the wind came out of the
southwest cold and then colder. The logs of the buildings popped with
the contracting cold all through the following night and the next dawn
came bright, clear and still, but far below zero. The ice was thick
on the creek, and every new pool and lake was covered. The trees and
bushes that had been dripping the day before were sheathed in silver
mail. Breath curled away like smoke from the lips.
"If Tayoga stayed in his canoe," said Wilton, "he's frozen solidly in
the middle of the river, and he won't be able to move it until a thaw
comes."
Robert laughed with genuine amusement and also with a certain scorn.
"I've told you many times, Will," he said, "that you didn't know all
about Tayoga, but now it seems that you know nothing about him."
"Well, then, wherein am I wrong, Sir Robert the Omniscient?" asked
Wilton.
"In your assumption that Tayoga would not foresee what was
coming. Having spent nearly all his life with nature he has naturally
been forced to observe all of its manifestations, even the most
delicate. And when you add to these necessities the powers of an
exceedingly strong and penetrating mind you have developed faculties
that can cope with almost anything. Tayoga foresaw this big freeze,
and I can tell you exactly what he did as accurately as if I had been
there and had seen it. He kept to the river and his canoe almost until
the first thin skim of ice began to show. Then he paddled to land, and
hid the canoe again among thick bushes. He raised it up a little on
low boughs in such a manner that it would not touch the water. Thus it
was safe from the ice, and so leaving it well hidden and in proper
condition, and situation, he sped on."
"Of course you're a master with words, Robert, and the longer they are
the better you seem to like 'em, but how is the Onondaga to make speed
over the ice which now covers the earth? Snow shoes, I take it, would
not be available upon such a smooth and tricky surface, and, at any
rate, he has left them far behind."
"In part of your assumption you're right, Will. Tayoga hasn't the
snow shoes now, and he wouldn't use 'em if he had 'em. He foresaw the
possibility of the freeze, and took with him in his pack a pair of
heavy moose skin moccasins with the hair on the outside. They're so
rough they do not slip on the ice, especially when they inclose the
feet of a runner, so wiry, so agile and so experienced as Tayoga. Once
more I close my eyes and I see his brown figure shooting through the
white forest. He goes even faster than he did when he had on the snow
shoes, because whenever he comes to a slope he throws himself back
upon his heels and lets himself slide down the ice almost at the speed
of a bird darting through the air."
"If you're right, Lennox, your red friend is not merely a marvel, but
a series of marvels."
"I'm right, Will. I do not doubt it. At the conclusion of the tenth
day when Tayoga arrives on the return from the vale of Onondaga you
will gladly admit the truth."
"There can be no doubt about my gladness, Lennox, if it should come
true, but the elements seem to have conspired against him, and I've
learned that in the wilderness the elements count very heavily."
"Earth, fire and water may all join against him, but at the time
appointed he will come. I know it."
The great cold, and it was hard, fierce and bitter, lasted two
days. At night the popping of the contracting timbers sounded like a
continuous pistol fire, but Willet had foreseen everything. At his
instance, Colden had made the young soldiers gather vast quantities of
fuel long ago from a forest which was filled everywhere with dead
boughs and fallen timber, the accumulation of scores of years.
Then another great thaw came, and the fickle climate proceeded to show
what it could do. When the thaw had been going on for a day and a
night a terrific winter hurricane broke over the forest. Trees were
shattered as if their trunks had been shot through by huge cannon
balls. Here and there long windrows were piled up, and vast areas were
a litter of broken boughs.
"As I reckon, and allowing for the marvels you say he can perform,
Tayoga is now in the vale of Onondaga, Lennox," said Wilton. "It's
lucky that he's there in the comfortable log houses of his own people,
because a man could scarcely live in the forest in such a storm as
this, as he would be beaten to death by flying timbers."
"This time, Will, you're wrong in both assumptions. Tayoga has
already been to the vale of Onondaga. He has spent there the half day
that he allowed to himself, and now on the return journey has left the
vale far behind him. I told you how sensitive he was to the changes of
the weather, and he knew it was coming several hours before it
arrived. He sought at once protection, probably a cleft in the rock,
or an opening of two or three feet under a stony ledge. He is lying
there now, just as snug and safe as you please, while this storm,
which covers a vast area, rages over his head. There is much that is
primeval in Tayoga, and his comfort and safety make him fairly enjoy
the storm. As he lies under the ledge with his blanket drawn around
him, he is warm and dry and his sense of comfort, contrasting his
pleasant little den with the fierce storm without, becomes one of
luxury."
"I suppose of course, Lennox, that you can shut your eyes and see him
once more without any trouble."
"In all truth and certainty I can, Will. He is lying on a stone shelf
with a stone ledge above him. His blanket takes away the hardness of
the stone that supports him. He sees boughs and sticks whirled past by
the storm, but none of them touches him. He hears the wind whistling
and screaming at a pitch so fierce that it would terrify one unused to
the forest, but it is only a song in the ears of Tayoga. It soothes
him, it lulls him, and knowing that he can't use the period of the
storm for traveling, he uses it for sleep, thus enabling him to take
less later on when the storm has ceased. So, after all, he loses
nothing so far as his journey is concerned. Now his lids droop, his
eyes close, and he slumbers while the storm thunders past, unable to
touch him."
"You do have the gift, Lennox. I believe that sometimes your words are
music in your own ears, and inspire you to greater efforts. When the
war is over you must surely become a public man--one who is often
called upon to address the people."
"We'll fight the war first," laughed Robert.
The storm in its rise, its zenith and its decline lasted several
hours, and, when it was over, the forest looked like a wreck, but
Robert knew that nature would soon restore everything. The foliage of
next spring would cover up the ruin and new growth would take the
place of the old and broken. The wilderness, forever restoring what
was lost, always took care of itself.
A day or two of fine, clear winter weather, not too cold, followed,
and Willet went forth to scout. He was gone until the next morning and
when he returned his face was very grave.
"There are Indians in the forest," he said, "not friendly warriors of
the Hodenosaunee, but those allied with the enemy. I think a
formidable Ojibway band under Tandakora is there, and also other
Indians from the region of the Great Lakes. They may have started
against us some time back, but were probably halted by the bad
weather. They're in different bodies now, scattered perhaps for
hunting, but they'll reunite before long."
"Did you see signs of any white men, Dave?" asked Robert.
"Yes, French officers and some soldiers are with 'em, but I don't
think St. Luc is in the number. More likely it's De Courcelles and
Jumonville, whom we have such good cause to remember."
"I hope so, Dave, I'd rather fight against those two than against
St. Luc."
"So would I, and for several reasons. St. Luc is a better leader than
they are. They're able, but he's the best of all the French."
That afternoon two men who ventured a short distance from Fort Refuge
were shot at, and one was wounded slightly, but both were able to
regain the little fortress. Willet slipped out again, and reported the
forest swarming with Indians, although there was yet no indication of
a preconcerted attack. Still, it was well for the garrison to keep
close and take every precaution.
"And this shuts out Tayoga," said Wilton regretfully to Robert. "He
may make his way through rain and flood and sleet and snow and
hurricane, but he can never pass those watchful hordes of Indians in
the woods."
Once more the Onondaga's loyal friend laughed. "The warriors turn
Tayoga back, Will?" he said. "He will pass through 'em just as if
they were not there. The time will be up day after tomorrow at noon,
and then he will be here."
"Even if the Indians move up and besiege us in regular form?"
"Even that, and even anything else. At noon day after tomorrow Tayoga
will be here."
Another man who went out to bring in a horse that had been left
grazing near the fort was fired upon, not with rifles or muskets but
with arrows, and grazed in the shoulder. He had, however, the presence
of mind to spring upon the animal's back and gallop for Fort Refuge,
where the watchful Willet threw open the gate to the stockade, let him
in, then quickly closed and barred it fast. A long fierce whining cry,
the war whoop, came from the forest.
"The siege has closed in already," said Robert, "and it's well that we
have no other men outside."
"Except Tayoga," said Wilton.
"The barrier of the red army doesn't count so far as Tayoga is
concerned. How many times must I tell you, Will, that Tayoga will come
at the time appointed?"
After the shout from the woods there was a long silence that weighed
upon the young soldiers, isolated thus in the wintry and desolate
wilderness. They were city men, used to the streets and the sounds of
people, and their situation had many aspects that were weird and
appalling. They were hundreds of miles from civilization, and around
them everywhere stretched a black forest, hiding a tenacious and cruel
foe. But on the other hand their stockade was stout, they had plenty
of ammunition, water and provisions, and one victory already to their
credit. After the first moments of depression they recalled their
courage and eagerly awaited an attack.
But the attack did not come and Robert knew it would not be made, at
least not yet. The Indians were too wary to batter themselves to
pieces against the palisade, and the Frenchmen with them, skilled in
forest war, would hold them back.
"Perhaps they've gone away, realizing that we're too strong for 'em,"
said Wilton.
"That's just what we must guard against," said Robert. "The Indian
fights with trick and stratagem. He always has more time than the
white man, and he is wholly willing to wait. They want us to think
they've left, and then they'll cut off the incautious."
The afternoon wore on, and the silence which had grown oppressive
persisted. A light pleasant wind blew through the forest, which was
now dry, and the dead bark and wintry branches rustled. To many of the
youths it became a forest of gloom and threat, and they asked
impatiently why the warriors did not come out and show themselves like
men. Certainly, it did not become Frenchmen, if they were there to
lurk in the woods and seek ambush.
Willet was the pervading spirit of the defense. Deft in word and
action, acknowledging at all times that Colden was the commander, thus
saving the young Philadelphian's pride in the presence of his men, he
contrived in an unobtrusive way to direct everything. The guards were
placed at suitable intervals about the palisade, and were instructed
to fire at anything suspicious, the others were compelled to stay in
the blockhouse and take their ease, in order that their nerves might
be steady and true, when the time for battle came. The cooks were also
instructed to prepare an unusually bountiful supper for them.
Robert was Willet's right hand. Next to the hunter he knew most about
the wilderness, and the ways of its red people. There was no
possibility that the Indians had gone. Even if they did not undertake
to storm the fort they would linger near it, in the hope of cutting
off men who came forth incautiously, and at night, especially if it
happened to be dark, they would be sure to come very close.
The palisade was about eight feet high, and the men stood on a
horizontal plank three feet from the ground, leaving only the head to
project above the shelter, and Willet warned them to be exceedingly
careful when the twilight came, since the besiegers would undoubtedly
use the darkness as a cover for sharp-shooting. Then both he and
Robert looked anxiously at the sun, which was just setting behind the
black waste.
"The night will be dark," said the hunter, "and that's bad. I'm afraid
some of our sentinels will be picked off. Robert, you and I must not
sleep until tomorrow. We must stay on watch here all the while."
As he predicted, the night came down black and grim. Vast banks of
darkness rolled up close to the palisade, and the forest showed but
dimly. Then the warriors proved to the most incredulous that they had
not gone far away. Scattered shots were fired from the woods, and one
sentinel who in spite of warnings thrust his head too high above the
palisade, received a bullet through it falling back dead. It was a
terrible lesson, but afterwards the others took no risks, although
they were anxious to fire on hostile figures that their fancy saw for
them among the trees. Willet, Robert and Colden compelled them to
withhold their fire until a real and tangible enemy appeared.
Later in the night burning arrows were discharged in showers and fell
within the palisade, some on the buildings. But they had pails, and an
unfailing spring, and they easily put out the flames, although one man
was struck and suffered both a burn and a bruise.
Toward midnight a terrific succession of war whoops came, and a great
number of warriors charged in the darkness against the palisade. The
garrison was ready, and, despite the darkness, poured forth such a
fierce fire that in a few minutes the horde vanished, leaving behind
several still forms which they stole away later. Another of the young
Philadelphians was killed, and before dawn he and his comrade who had
been slain earlier in the evening were buried behind the blockhouse.
At intervals in the remainder of the night the warriors fired either
arrows or bullets, doing no farther damage except the slight wounding
of one man, and when day came Willet and Robert, worn to the bone,
sought a little rest and sleep in the blockhouse. They knew that
Golden could not be surprised while the sun was shining, and that the
savages were not likely to attempt anything serious until the
following night So they felt they were not needed for the present.
Robert slept until nearly noon, when he ate heartily of the abundant
food one of the young cooks had prepared, and learned that beyond an
occasional arrow or bullet the forest had given forth no threat. His
own spirits rose high with the day, which was uncommonly brilliant,
with a great sun shining in the center of the heavens, and not a cloud
in the sky. Wilton was near the blockhouse and was confident about
the siege, but worried about Tayoga.
"You tell me that the Indians won't go away," he said, "and if you're
right, and I think you are, the Onondaga is surely shut off from Fort
Refuge."
Robert smiled.
"I tell you for the last time that he will come at the appointed
hour," he said.
A long day began. Hours that seemed days in themselves passed, and
quiet prevailed in the forest, although the young soldiers no longer
had any belief that the warriors had gone away.