CHAPTER XXVIII
OYANEH!
The problem which I must now solve staggered me. How was it possible,with my little scout of five, to discover McDonald's approach and alsofind Sir John's line of communication and penetrate his purpose?
On a leaf of my _carnet_ I made a map which was shaped like an immenseright-angle triangle, its apex Fort Stanwix in the west; its baseSchoharie Creek; the Mohawk River its perpendicular; its hypothenuse mybee's-flight to Oneida.
The only certain information I possessed was that Sir John and St. Legerhad sailed from Buck Island to Oswego, and from there were marchingsomewhere. I guessed, of course, that they were approaching the Mohawkby way of Oneida Lake; yet, even so, they might have detached McDonald'soutlaws and sent them to Otsego; or they might be coming upon us in fullforce from that same direction, with flanking war parties flung outtoward Stanwix to aid their strategy.
One thing, however, seemed almost certain, and that was the directiontheir waggons must take from Oneida Lake; for I did not think Sir Johnwould attempt Otsego in any force after his tragic dose of a pathlesswilderness the year before.
I saw very plainly, however, that I must now give up any attempt toscout for McDonald's painted demons on the Schoharie until I haddiscovered Sir John's objective and traced his line of communications.And I realized that I must now move quickly.
There were only two logical methods left open to me to accomplish thishazardous business with my handful of scouts. The easier way wasinstantly to face about, secure two good canoes at Schoharie, makedirectly for the Mohawk River, and follow it westward by water day andnight.
But the surer way to run across Sir John's trail--and perhapsMcDonald's--was to take to the western forests, follow the hypothenuseof the great triangle, and, travelling lightly and swiftly northwest,headed straight for Oneida Lake.
This was what, finally, I decided to attempt as I lay on my blanketthat night; and I was loath to leave the Schoharie and ashamed to turntail to McDonald's ragamuffins, when the entire district was in so greatdistress, and Brakabeen farms a rat's nest of disloyal families.
But there seemed to be no other way to conduct if I obeyed my orders,too;--no better method of discovering McDonald and of devisingpunishment for him, even though in the meanwhile he should carry fireand sword through Schoharie,--perhaps menace Schenectady,--perhapsAlbany itself.
No, there was no other choice; and finally I realized this, after anight passed in agonized indecision, and asking God's guidance to aid myinexperience in this so terrible a crisis.
At dawn my Indians began to paint.
After we had eaten a bowl of samp I called them around me, shewed themthe map I had made in my _carnet_, told them what I had decided, andinvited opinions from everybody. I added that there now was no time forany customary formalities of deliberation so dear to all Indians: I toldthem that Tharon and God were one; and that our ancestors understood andapproved what we were about to do.
Then I laid a handful of dry sticks upon the ground, pretended that thiswas a fire; warmed my hands at it; lighted an imaginary pipe; puffed itand passed it around in pantomime.
Still employing symbols to reassure these young Oneida warriorsconcerning time-honoured formalities which they dared not disregard, Idrew a circle in the air with my finger, cut it twice with an imaginaryhorizontal line to indicate a sunrise and a sunset, then turned toTahioni and bade him answer my speech of _yesterday_ after a _night'sdeliberation_.
The young warrior replied gravely that he and his comrades hadconsulted, and were of one mind with me. He said that it was with sorrowthat they turned their backs on McDonald, who was a great villain andwho surely would now be coming to Schoharie to murder and destroy; butthat _it did no good to sever the tail of a snake_. He said that thefanged head of the Tory Serpent was somewhere east of Oneida Lake; thatif we scouted swiftly and thoroughly in that direction we could verysoon surmise where the poisonous head was about to strike, bydiscovering and then observing the direction in which the body of theserpent was travelling.
One by one I asked my young men for an opinion: the youthful warriorswere unanimous.
Then I turned and gazed fearfully at Thiohero, knowing well enough thatthese other adolescents would obey her blindly, and in dread lest herown dreams should sway her judgment and counsel her to advise us to somefolly. She was their prophetess; there was nothing to do without hersanction. I could not order these Oneidas; I could only attempt to usethem through their own instincts and personal loyalty to myself.
The early sun gilded the painted body of their sorceress, making of herclan ensign and the Little Red Foot two brilliant and jewelled symbols.
She stood lithely upright, one smooth knee nestling to the other, herfeet in their ankle moccasins planted parallel and close together, andher body all glistening like a gold dragon-fly.
From her painted cincture hung her war-sporran,--a narrow cascade ofpale blue wampum barred with scarlet and lined with winter weasel.Hatchet and knife swung from either hip; powder-horn and bullet-walletdangled beneath her arm-pits. A war bow and a quiver full of scarletarrows hung at her back. Her hair, shoulder-short and glossy-thick, wasbound above the brows by a tight scarlet circlet. From this, across herleft ear, sagged a heron's feather.
Never had I beheld such wild and supple grace in any living thing saveonly in a young panther clothed in the soft, dun-gold of her weddingfur.
"Thiohero," I said, "little sister to whom has been given an instinctmore delicate than ours, and senses more subtle, and a wisdom both humanand superhuman,--you who listen when the forest trees talk one toanother under the full moon's lustre,--you who understand the speech ofour lesser comrades that fly through the air paths on bright wings, orrun through the dusky woodlands on four furry feet--you who speaksecretly with the mighty dead; who whisper and laugh with fairies andlittle people and stone-throwers; who with your magic drum can makeworn-out and cast-off moccasins dance; whose ancestress ate live coalsto frighten away the Flying Heads; whose forefathers destroyed theStonish Giants; _we Oneidas of the clan of the Little Red Foot_ are nowof one mind concerning the war-trail we ought to take and follow to theend!
"_Little sister_; we desire to know your opinion. _Hiero!_"
Then the Little Maid of Askalege folded her arms, looking me intently inthe eyes.
"_Brother_, and my Captain," she said very quietly, "a year ago I toldyou that you should come from Howell's house _in scarlet_. And it wasso.
"And while you lay at Summer House a Caughnawaga woman, with yellowhair, washed the scarlet from your body.
"And there came a day when, we met under apple-trees in greenfruit--this Yellow Haired woman and I. And, stopping, we confronted eachthe other; and looked deeply into one another's minds.
"_Brother_: when I discovered that Yellow Hair was in love with you Ibecame angry. But when I discovered that this young woman also _was asorceress_, then I became afraid.
"_Brother_: there was a vision in her mind, and I also beheld the sceneshe gazed at.
"_Brother_: we saw a battle in the North, and men in strange uniforms,and cannon smoke. And we _both_ were looking upon _you_; and upon ashape near you, which stood wrapped to the head in white garments.
"_Brother_: I do not know what that shape may have been which stoodrobed in white like a Chief of the Eight Plumed Ones.
"But at that moment we both understood--the Yellow Haired one andI--that you must surely travel to this place we gazed at.
"So it makes no difference where you decide to go; all trails lead tothat appointed place; and you shall surely come there at the hourappointed, though you travel the world over and across before you shallat last arrive.
"_Brother_: we Oneida, of the Allied Clan of the Little Red Foot, arenow of one mind with our elder brother. He is our chief and Captain. Hehas spoken as an Oneida to Oneidas. We understand. We thank him for hislove offered. We thank him for his kinship offered. We accept; and, inour turn, we offer to our elder brother
and Captain our love and ourkinship. We take him among us as an Oneida.
"At this our fire--for alas! no fire shall burn again at Onondaga, norat Oneida Lake, nor at The Wood's Edge, nor at Thendara--I, Thiohero,Sorceress of Askalege, and _Oyaneh_, salute an Oneida chief and Sachem.Hail Royaneh!"
"Hai! Royaneh!" shouted the young warriors in rising excitement.
The girl come to me slowly, stooped and tore from the ground a strand ofclub-moss. Then, straightening up, she lifted her arms and held thechaplet of moss over my head,--symbol of the chief's antlers.
"O nen ti eh o ya nen ton tah ya qua wen ne ken...."
Her young voice faltered, broke:
"Tah o nen sah gon yan nen tah ah tah o nen ti ton tah ken yahtas!" sheadded in a strangled voice: "Now I have finished. Now show me the_man_!"
"He is here!" cried the excited Oneidas. "He wears the antlers!"
Tahioni stretched out his hand; it was trembling when he touched the redfoot sewed on my hunting shirt.
"What is his name, O Thiohero, whom you have raised up among the Oneida?Who mourn a great man dead?"
A deep silence fell among them; for what their prophetess had done meantthat she must have knowledge that a great man and chief among the Oneidalay dead somewhere at that very moment.
Slowly the girl turned her head from one to another; a veiled lookdrowned her gaze; the young men were quivering in the imminence of arevelation based upon knowledge which could be explained only bysorcery.
Then the Little Maid of Askalege took a dry stick from the pretendedfire, crumbled it, touched her lips with the powder in sign of personaland intimate mourning.
"Spencer, Interpreter and Oneida Chief, shall die this week in battle,"she said in a dull voice.
A murmur of horror and rage, instantly checked and suppressed, left theOneidas staring at their prophetess.
"Therefore," she whispered, "I acquaint you that we have chosen thisyoung man to take his place; we lift the antlers; we give him the samename,--Hahyion!"[38]
[Footnote 38: Haghriron, of the Great Rite, in the Canienga dialect.]
"Haih! Hahyion!" shouted the Oneidas with up-flung hands.
I was dumb. I could not speak. I dared not ask this girl why and by whatknowledge she presumed to predict the death of Spencer, and to raise meup in his place and give me the same name.
In spite of me her magic made me shudder.
But now that I was truly an Oneida, and in absolute authority, I mustact quickly.
"Come, then," said I in a shaky voice, "we People of the Rock must marchon the Gates of Sunset. If my fate lies there, why then I am due to diein that place!... Make ready, Oneidas!"
The Screech-owl found a hollow under a windfall; and here we hurriedlyhid our heavier baggage.
Then, when all had completed painting the Little Red Foot on theirbellies, I stepped swiftly ahead of them and turned northwest.
"March," I said in a low voice.
We travelled as the honey-bee flies, and as rapidly while the going wasgood en route; but to cover this great triangle of forests we wereobliged to use the tactics of hunting wolves and, from some given point,circle the surrounding country, in hopes of cutting the hidden Britishtrail we sought.
This delayed us; but it was the only way. And, like trained huntingdogs, we even quartered and cut up the wilderness, halting andencircling Cherry Valley on the second day out, because I knew howfamiliar was Walter Butler with that region and with the people whoinhabited it, and suspected that he might be likely to lead his firstattack over ground he knew so well.
Ah, God!--had I known then what all the world knows now! And I erredonly in guessing at the time of Cherry Valley's martyrdom, not inestimating the ferocious purpose of young Walter Butler.
* * * * *
On the afternoon of our second day out from Schoharie, while we werestill beating up the bush of the Cherry Valley district, I left myIndians and went alone down into the pretty settlement in quest ofinformation and also to renew our scanty stock of provisions. I foundthe lovely place almost deserted, save for a few old men of the exemptsworking on a sort of fort around Colonel Clyde's house, and a few womenand children who had not yet gone off to Schenectady or Albany.
I stopped at the house of the Wells family. John Wells, the father of myfriend Bob, had been one of the Judges of the Tryon County courts,sitting on the bench with old John Butler, who now was invading us, withSir John, in arms.
Bob was away on military duty, but there were in the house his mother,his wife, his four little children, his brother Jack, and Janet, hisengaging sister whom I had admired so often at the Hall, and who wasbeloved like a daughter by Sir William.
I shall never forget the amazement of these delightful and kindly peoplewhen I appeared at their door in Cherry Valley, nor their affectionatehospitality when they learned my purpose and my errand.
A sack of provisions was immediately provided me; their kindness andcourtesy seemed inexhaustible, although even now the shadow of terrorlay over Cherry Valley. Their young men under Colonels Clyde andCampbell had gone to join Herkimer; they were utterly destitute ofdefense against McDonald or Sir John if Schoharie were invaded, or ifStanwix fell, or if Herkimer gave way before St. Leger.
They asked news of me very calmly, and I told them all I had learned andsomething of the sinister rumours which now were current in the Mohawkand Schoharie Valleys.
They, in their turn, knew nothing positive of Sir John, but had heardthat he was marching on Stanwix with St. Leger and Brant, and that athousand savages were with them.
My sojourn at the Wells house was brief; the family was evidently veryanxious but not gloomy; even the children smiled courageously when Imade my adieux; and my dear little friend, Janet, led me by the hand tothe edge of the brush-field, through which I must travel to regain theforest, and kissed me at our parting.
On the wood's edge, I paused and looked back at the place called CherryValley, lying so peacefully in the sunshine, where in the fields grainalready was turning golden green; and fat cattle grazed their pastures;and wisps of smoke drifted from every chimney.
That is my memory of Cherry Valley in the sunny tranquillity of lateafternoon, where tasseled corn like ranks of plumed Indians, coveredvale and hillock; and clover and English grass grew green again afterthe first haying; and on some orchard trees the summer apples glimmeredrosy ripe or lush gold among the leaves;--ah, God!--if I could haveknown what another year was to bring to Cherry Valley!
There was no sound in the still settlement except a dull and distantstirring made by the workmen sodding parapets on the new and unfinishedfort.
From where I stood I could see the Wells house, and the little childrenat play in the dooryard; and Peter Smith, a servant, drawing water, whoone day was to see his master's family in their blood.
I could make out Colonel Campbell's house, too, and the chimney ofColonel Clyde's house; and had a far glimpse of the residence of theReverend Mr. Dunlop, the aged minister of Cherry Valley.
From a gilded weather-cock I was able to guess about where CaptainM'Kean should reside; and Mr. Mitchell's barn I discovered, also. ButM'Kean and his rangers must now be marching with Herkimer's fiveregiments to meet the hordes of St. Leger.
The sun sank blood-red behind the unbroken forests, and the sky overCherry Valley seemed to be all afire as I turned away and entered thetwilight of the woods, lugging my sack of provisions on my back.
That night my Indians and I lay within rifle-shot of the Mohawk River;and at dawn we made a crow-flight of it toward Oneida Lake; and foundnot a trace of Sir John or of anybody in that trackless wilderness; andso camped at last, exhausted and discouraged.
On the fourth day, toward sunset, the Screech-owl, roaming far out onour western flank, returned with news of a dead and stinking fire in thewoods, and fish heads rotting in it; and he thought the last ember burntout some four days since.
He took us to it in the dark, and his was a better woo
dcraft than Icould boast, who had been Brent-Meester, too. At dawn we examined theashes, but discovered nothing; and we were eating our parched corn anddiscussing the matter of the fire when, very far away in the west, ashot sounded; and in that same second we were on our feet and listeninglike damned men for the last trumpet.
My heart made a deadened rataplan like a muffled drum, and seemed todeafen me, so terribly intent was I.
Tahioni stretched out like a panther sunning on a log; and laid his earflat against the earth. Seconds grew to minutes; nobody stirred; noother sound came from the westward.
Presently I turned and signalled in silence; my Indians crawlednoiselessly to their allotted intervals, extending our line north andsouth; then, trailing my rifle, I stole forward through an open forest,beneath the ancient and enormous trees of which no underbrush grew inthe eternal twilight.
Nothing stirred. There were no animals here, no birds, no livingcreature that I could hear or see,--not even an insect.
Under our tread the mat of moist dead leaves gave back no sound; thesilence in this dim place was absolute.
We had been creeping forward for more than an hour, I think, before Idiscovered the first sign of man in that spectral region.
I was breasting a small hillock set with tall walnut trees, in hopes ofobtaining a better view ahead, and had just reached the crest, and,lying flat, was lifting my head for a cautious survey, when my eyecaught a long, wide streak of sunlight ahead.
My Indians, too, had seen this tell-tale evidence which indicated eithera stream or a road. But we all knew it was a road. We could see thesunshine dappling it; and we crawled toward it, belly dragging, liketree-cats stalking a dappled fawn.
Scarce had we come near enough to observe this road plainly, and thecrushed ferns and swale grasses in the new waggon ruts, when we heardhorses coming at a great distance.
Down we drop, each to a tree, and lie with levelled pieces, while slop!thud! clink! come the horses, nearer, nearer; and, to my astonishmentand perplexity, from the _east_, and travelling the wrong way.
I cautioned my Oneidas fiercely against firing unless I so signalledthem; we lay waiting in an excitement well nigh unendurable, whilenearer and nearer came the leisurely sound of the advancing horses.
And now we saw them!--three red-coat dragoons riding very carelesslywestward on this wide, well-trodden road which now I knew must lead toOneida Lake.
I could see the British horsemen plainly. The day was hot; the sun beatdown on their red jackets and helmets; they sat their saddles wearily;their faces were wet with perspiration, and they had loosened jacket andneck-cloth, and their pistols were in holster, and their guns slung upontheir backs.
It was plain that these troopers had no thought of precaution norentertained any apprehension of danger on this road, which must lie inthe rear of their army, and must also be their route of communicationbetween the Lake and the Mohawk.
Slap, slop, clink! they trampled past us where my Oneidas lay a-tremblelike crouched cats to see the rats escaping on their runway.
But my ears had caught another sound,--the distant noise of wheels; andI guessed that this was a waggon which the three horsemen should haveescorted, but, feeling entirely secure, had let their horses take theirown gait, and so had straggled on far ahead of the convoy with whichthey should have kept in touch.
The waggon was far away. It approached slowly. Already the horsemen hadridden clear out o' sight; and we crept to the edge of the road and layflat in the weeds, waiting, listening.
Twice the approaching vehicle halted as though to rest the horses; thedragoons must have been a long way ahead by this time, for it was someminutes since the sound of their horses' hoofs had died away in thewoods.
And now, near and ever nearer, creeps the waggon; and now it seems closeat hand; and now we see it far away down the road, slowly moving towardus.
But it is no baggage-wain,--no transport cart that approaches us. Thetwo horses are caparisoned in bright harness; the driver wears a redwaistcoat and is a negro, and powdered. The vehicle is a private coachwhich lurches, though driven cautiously.
"Good God!" said I, "that is Sir John's family coach! Tahioni, holdyour Oneidas! For I mean to find out who rides so carelessly to OneidaLake, confiding too much in the army which has passed this way!"
Slowly, slowly the coach drew near our ambush. I recognized Colas as thecoachman _pro tem_; I knew the horses and the family coach; saw theJohnson arms emblazoned on the panels as I rose from the roadside weeds.
"Colas!" I said quietly.
The negro pulled in his horses and sat staring at me, astounded.
I walked leisurely past the horses to the window of the coach. Andthere, seated, I saw Polly Johnson and Claudia Swift.
There ensued a terrible silence and they gazed upon me as though theywere looking upon a dead man.
"Jack Drogue!" whispered Claudia, "how--how come you here?"
I bowed, my cap in my hand, but could not utter a word.
"Jack! Jack, are--are you alone?" faltered Lady Johnson. "Good heavens,what does this mean, I beg of you?----"
"Where are your people, Polly?" I asked in a dead voice.
"My--my people? Do you mean my husband?"
"I mean him.... And his troops. Where are they at this moment?"
"Do you not know that the army is before Stanwix?"
"I know it now," said I gravely.
"Mercy on us, Jack!" cried Claudia, finding her voice shrilly; "will younot tell us how it is that we meet you here on the Oneida road and closeto our own army?"
I shook my head: "No, Claudia, I shall not tell you. But I must ask youhow you came here and whither you now are bound. And you must answer."
They gazed at my sombre face with an intentness and anxiety that made mesadder than ever I was in all my life.
Then, without a word, Lady Johnson laid aside the silken flap of her redfoot-mantle. And there my shocked eyes beheld a new born baby nursing ather breast.
"We accompanied my husband from Buck Island to Oswego," she saidtremulously. "And, as the way was deemed so utterly secure, we took boatat Oneida Lake and brought our horses.... And now are returning--neverdreaming of danger from--from your people--Jack."
I stared at the child; I stared at her.
"In God's name," I said, "get forward then, and hail your horsemenescort. Say to them that the road is dangerous! Take to your batteauand get you to Oswego as soon as may be. And I strictly enjoin you, comenot this way again, for there is now no safety in Tryon for man or womanor child, nor like to be while red-coat or green remains within thisnew-born nation!
"And you, Claudia, say to Sir Frederick Haldimand that he has lighted inTryon a flame that shall utterly consume him though he hide behind theramparts of Quebec itself! Say that to him!"
Then I stepped back and bade Colas drive on as fast as he dare. And whenhe cracked his long whip, I stood uncovered and looked upon the woman Ionce had loved, and upon the other woman who had been my childhoodplaymate; and saw her child at her breast, and her pale face bowed aboveit.
And so out of my life passed these two women forever, without any wordor sign save for the white faces of them and the deadly fear in theireyes.
I stood there in the Oneida Road, watching their coach rolling andswaying until it was out of view, and even the noise of it had utterlydied away.
Then I walked slowly back to the wood's edge; in silence my Oneidas rosefrom the weeds and stood around me where I halted, the sleeve of mybuckskin shirt across my eyes.
Then, when I was ready, I turned and went forward, swiftly, in asoutheasterly direction; and heard their padded footsteps fallinglightly at my heels as I Hastened toward the Mohawk, a miserable, sad,yet angry man.
* * * * *
All that long, hot day we travelled; and in the afternoon black cloudshid the sun, and presently a most furious thunder storm burst on us inthe woods, so that we were obliged to shelter us under the hemlocks a
ndlie there while rain roared and lightning blinded, and deafening thundershook the ground we lay on.
It was over in an hour. The forest dripped and steamed as we unwrappedour rifles and started on.
Twice, it seemed to me, far to the east I heard a duller, vaguer noiseof thunder; and my Indians also noticed it.
Later, with the sky all blue above, it came again--dull, distant shockswith no rolling echo trailing after.
Tahioni came to me, and I saw in his uneasy eyes what I also nowdivined. For to the bravest Indian the sound of cannon is a terror andan abomination. And I now had become very sure that it was cannon weheard; for Stanwix lay far across the wilderness in that direction, andthe heavy, lifeless, and superheated air might carry the solemn soundfrom a great distance.
But I said nothing, not choosing to share my conclusions with theseyoung warriors who, though they had taken scalps at Big Eddy, were yetscarcely tried in war.
* * * * *
That night we lay near an old trail which I knew ran to Otsego andpassed by Colonel Croghan's new house.
And on this trail, early the following morning, we encountered two menwhom my Indians, instead of taking as they should have done, instantlyshot down. Which betrayed their inexperience in war; and I rated themroundly.
The two dead men were _blue-eyed_ Indians in all the horror of theirshameful paint and forest dress.
I knew one of them, for when Tahioni washed their lifeless visages andlaid them on their backs, there, to my hot indignation, I beheld youngThomas Hare, brother to Lieutenant Henry Hare and to Captain James Hare,of the Indian Service.
Horror-stricken, bitterly mortified, I gazed down at the dead featuresof these two renegades who had betrayed their own race and colour; andmy Indians, watching me, understood when I turned and spat upon theground; and so they scalped both--which otherwise they had not dared inmy presence.
We found on them every evidence that they were serving as a scout forMcDonald. Probably when we encountered them they had been on their wayto Sir John at Stanwix with verbal intelligence. But now it was idle tosurmise what they might have been able to tell us.
We found upon their bodies no papers to shew where McDonald might belurking; and so, as I would not trouble to bury the carrion, my Oneidasdespoiled them, hid their weapons, pouched their money and ammunition,and left them lying on the trail for their more respectable relatives,the wolves, to devour.
* * * * *
Now, on the Otsego trail, which was but a vile one and nigh impassablewith undergrowth, we beat toward the Mohawk like circling hounds castout and at fault to find a scent.
And at evening of that day, the seventh of August, I saw a man in thewoods, and, watching, ordered my Indians to surround him and bring himin alive.
Judge, then, of my chagrin when presently comes walking up, and arm inarm with my Oneidas, one Daniel Wemple in his militia regimentals, aTorloch farmer whom I knew.
"Great God, John!" says he, "what are you doing here with your tamepanthers and a pair o' raw scalps that smell white in my nostrils?"
I told him, and asked in turn for news.
"You know nothing?" he demanded.
"Nothing, Dan, only that we heard cannon to the eastward yesterday."
"Well," says he, "there has been a bloody fight at Oriska, John; andTryon must mourn her sons.
"For our fine regiments marched into an ambuscade on our way to driveSir John from Stanwix, which he had invested. Colonel Cox is dead, andMajors Eisinlord and Klepsattle and Van Slyck. Colonel Paris is taken,and our brigade surgeon, Younglove, and Captain Martin of the batteauxservice. John Frey, Major of brigade, is missing, and so is ColonelBellinger. Scarce an inferior officer but is slain or taken; our deadsoldiers are carted off by waggon-loads; our wounded lie in theiralder-litters. And among them our general,--old Honikol Herkimer!--and Imyself saw that brave Oneida die--our interpreter, Spencer----"
A cry escaped me, instantly checked as I looked at Thiohero. The girlcame and rested her arm on my left shoulder and gazed steadily at themilitia man.
He passed his hand wearily through his hair: "Only one regiment ran," hesaid dully. "I shall not name it to you because it was not entirelytheir fault; and afterward they lost heavily and fought bravely. Butthis is a dreadful blow to Tryon, John Drogue."
"We were routed, then?"
"No. We drove them from the field pell mell! We cut Brant's savages topieces. We went at Sir John's Greens with our bayonets and tore the gutsout of them! We put the fear o' God into Butler's green-coats, too, andthere'll be caterwauling in Canada when the news is carried, for I sawyoung Stephen Watts[39] dead in his blood, and Hare running off with abroken arm a-flapping and he a-screaming like a singed wildcat----"
[Footnote 39: Captain Watts was left for dead but ultimately recovered.]
"Steve Watts! Dead!"
"I saw him. I saw one of our soldiers take his watch from his body. God!What a shambles was there at Oriska!"
But I was thinking of young Stevie Watts, Polly Johnson's brother, andmy one-time friend, lying dead in his blood. And I thought of hisboyish passion for Penelope. And her kindness for him. And rememberedhow last I had seen him.... And now he lay dead; and I had seen hissister but a few hours ago--seen her for the last time I should everbehold her.
I drew a breath like a deep and painful sigh.
"And the Fort?" I asked in a low voice.
"Stanwix holds fast, John Drogue. Willett is there, and Gansevoort withthe 3rd New York of the Line."
"Have you news of McDonald, Dan?"
"None."
"Whither do you travel express?"
"To Johnstown with the news if I can get there."
I warned him concerning conditions in Schoharie. We shook hands, and Iwatched the brave militia man stride away through the forest all alone.
When we camped that night, Thiohero touched her brow and breasts withashes from our fire. That was her formal symbol of mourning for Spencer.Later we all should mourn him in due ceremony.
Then she came and lay down close against me and rested her child's faceon my hollow'd arm. And so slept all night long, trembling in herdreams.
I know not how it chanced that I erred in my scouting and lostdirection, but on the tenth day of August my Indians and I came out intoa grassy place where trees grew thinly.
The first thing I saw was an Indian, hanging by the heels from a tree,and lashed there with the traces from a harness.
At the same time one of my Oneidas discovered a white man lying with hisfeet in a pool of water. But when Tahioni drew the cocked hat from hishead to see his countenance, hair and skin stuck to it, and a mosthorrid smell filled the woods.
And now, everywhere, we beheld evidences of the Oriska combat, for herelay a soldier's empty knapsack, and yonder a ragged shirt, and there arusting tin cup, and here a boot all bloody and slit to the toe.
And now, looking about me, I suddenly comprehended that we were nearerto Stanwix Fort than to Oriska; and had no business any nearer to eitherplace.
We now were in a most perilous region and must proceed with everycaution, for in this forest Brant's Iroquois must be roaming everywherein the rear of the troops which had invested Stanwix.
My Oneidas understood this without explanation from me; and they and Ialso became further alarmed when, to our astonishment, we came upon abroad road running through a forest where I swear no road had existed atwelve-month past.
Where this road led, and from whence, neither my Oneidas nor I knew. Itwas a raw and new road, yet it had been heavily travelled both ways byhorse, foot, and waggons. It seemed to have as many windings as theKennyetto at Fonda's Bush; and I saw it had been builded to run clear ofhills and swampy land, as though made for a traffic heavier than a logroad might easily sustain.
We left the road but scouted eastward along its edge, I desiring tolearn more of it; for it seemed to bear toward Wood Creek; and if therewere enemy batteaux
to be seen I wished to count them.
Suddenly Thiohero touched my arm,--caught my sleeve convulsively.
"Hahyion--Royaneh--my elder brother--O my white Captain!" she stammered,clinging to me in her excitement, "here is the _place_! Here is theplace I saw in my vision! Here I saw strange uniforms and cannonsmoke--and a strange white shape--and you--O Hahyion--my Captain!----"
I looked around me, suddenly chilled and shivering in spite of the heatof a summer afternoon. But I perceived nobody except my Oneidas. We wereon a long, sparsely-wooded hillock where juniper spread waist high.Below I could see the new road curving sharply to the eastward. Butnobody moved down there; there was not a sound to be heard, not amovement in the forest. All around us was still as death.
Something about the abrupt bend in the empty road below me attracted myattention. I examined it intently for a while, then, cautioning myIndians, I ventured to move forward and around the south slope of thehillock, wading waist-deep in juniper, in order to get a look at whatmight lie behind the bend in this road of mystery.
The road appeared to end abruptly just around the curve, as though ithad been opened only so far and then abandoned. This first amazed me andthen alarmed me, because I knew it could not be so as I had seen on theroadbed evidences of recent and heavy travel.
I stood peering down at it where it seemed to stop short against thegreen and tangled barrier of the woods which blocked it like a livingabattis----
God! It _was_ an abattis!--a mask!
As I realized this I saw a man in a strange, outlandish uniform run outfrom the green and living barrier, look up at me where I stood in thejuniper, shout out something _in German_, and stand pointing up at mewhile a score of soldiers, all in this same outlandish uniform, swarmedout upon the road and started running toward where I stood.
Then I came to my senses, clapped my rifle to my cheek and fired,stopping one of these strange soldiers and curing him of his runninghabits forever.
To me arrived swiftly my Oneidas, and dropped in the juniper, kneelingand firing upon the soldiers below. Two among them fell down flat on theroad, and then the others turned and fled straight into their greenbarrier of branches. From there they fired at us wildly, keeping up astrange, hoarse shouting.
"Hessian chasseurs!" I exclaimed. "These troops can be no other than thefilthy Germans hired by King George to come here and cut our throats!"
"_Those men wear the uniform I saw in my vision of this place!_"whispered Thiohero, quietly reloading her rifle. "I think that this istruly your battle, my Captain."
Then, as her prophecy of cannon came into my mind, there was a blindingflash from that green barrier below; a vast cloud blotted it from view;the pine beside which I stood shivered as though thunder-smitten; andthe entire top of it crashed down upon us, burying us all in lashing,writhing branches.
So stunned and stupefied was I that I lay for an instant without motion,my ears still deafened by that clap of thunder.
But now I floundered to my feet amid the pine-top's debris; around merose my terrified Oneidas, nearly paralyzed with fright.
"Come," said I, "we should pull foot ere they blow us into pieces withtheir damned artillery. Thiohero, where are you?"
"I come, Royaneh!"
"Tahioni! Kwiyeh! Hanatoh!" I called anxiously.
Then I saw them all creeping like weasels from under the green debris.
"Hasten," I muttered, "for we shall have all the Iroquois in NorthAmerica on our backs in another moment."
As we started to retreat, the Germans emptied their muskets after us;but I did not think anybody had been hit.
We now were running in single file, our rifles a-trail, Tahioni leading,and I some distance in the rear, turning my head over my shoulder frommoment to moment to see if we were followed.
And now, as I ran on, I understood that this accursed road had been madeexpressly to transport their siege artillery; that their guns were stillin transit; that they had masked a cannon and manned it with Hessianchasseurs to keep their gun-road safe against surprise from any partyscouting out of Oriska.
Lord, what an ambuscade! And what an escape for us!
As I jogged on at the heels of my Indians, still dazed and shaken by thedeadly surprise of it all, I saw Thiohero, who was some little distancein front of me, reel sideways as though out o' breath, and stand stillnear a beech tree, holding her scarlet blanket against her body.
When I came up to her she was leaning against the tree, clutching herblanket to her face and breast with both hands. But she heard me andlifted her head from the gaily coloured folds.
"Hahyion--Royaneh!" she panted, "_this_ was your battle.... And now--itis over ... and you shall live!..."
My Oneidas had halted and were looking back at us. And now they returnedrapidly and clustered around us.
"Are you exhausted, little sister?" I demanded, drawing nearer. "Are youhurt----"
"Listen--my brother and--my Captain!" she burst out breathlessly."_This_ was the battle of my vision!--the strange uniforms--thecannon-cloud--the white shape!... I saw it near you where--where youstood in the cannon smoke!--a shape like mist at sunrise.... Haihee! Itwas the face and shape of the Caughnawaga girl!... It was Yellow Hairwho floated there beside you in the cannon smoke!--covered to her eyesin white and flowers----"
The Little Maid of Askalege clutched her gay blanket closer to herbreast and began to sway gently on her feet as though the thumping of adistant partridge were a witch-drum.
"Haihya Hahyion!" she whispered--"Thiohero Oyaneh salutes--herCaptain.... I speak--as one dying.... Haiee! Haie--e! Yellow Hair is--isquite--a witch!----"
Her voice failed; down on her knees she sank. And, as I snatched herfrom the ground and lifted her, she looked up into my face and smiled.Then, in a long-drawn sigh, her soul escaped between my arms that couldnot stay its flight to Tharon.
Her face became as wax; her head fell forward on my breast; her eyesrolled upward. And, as I pressed her in my arms, all my body grew warmand wet with bright blood pouring from her softly parted lips.
The Little Red Foot Page 28