Now, no sooner did I reach my camp with my prisoner than my people came crowding around us from their watch-fire, which burned dull because they had made a smudge of it, black flies being lively after dark.
I drew Nick aside and told him all.
"You shall take Johnny Silver," said I, "and set off instantly for Summer House and the Continental camp. You shall deliver a letter to Major Westfall, and then you shall search with your lanterns every face you encounter; for I am beginning to believe that I truly saw Stephen Watts and Lieutenant Hare in the orchard at Summer House Point this night. And if I did, then they are a pair o' damned spies, and should be taken; and suffer as such!"
"My God," says he, "Lady Johnson's brother!"
"And my one-time friend. Is it not horrible, Nick? But any hesitation makes me a traitor to my own people."
I sat down in the dull firelight, a block of wood for a seat, fished out my carnet, wrote a line to Major Westfall, and handed it to Nick.
Silver came with a lantern and both rifles.
"Use the canoe," said I, "and have a care that you reply clearly and promptly when challenged, for yonder Continentals are prone to shoot."
They went off with their rifles and the lantern, and I waited until I heard the dip of paddles in the dark.
"Throw a dry log on the fire, Godfrey," said I. And to Joe de Golyer: "Bring that prisoner here."
Joe fetched him, and he stood before me, arms trussed up and head hanging. Tahioni approached.
"Untie him," said I.
Whilst they were fumbling with the knotted rope of thrums, I said to Tahioni:
"Luysnes is on guard, I take it?"
"My French brother watches."
"That is well. Now, tell my Oneida brothers that here we have taken a very dangerous man; and that if he makes any move to escape from where he stands beside that fire, they shall not attempt to take himalive!"
The young warrior turned calmly and translated. I saw my Oneidas loosen their knives and hatchets. The Saguenay quietly strung his short, heavy bow, and, laying an arrow across the string, notched it.
"Thiohero!" I called.
"I listen, my elder brother," said the little maid of Askalege.
"You shall take a trade-rifle, move out one hundred paces to the west, and halt all who come. And fire on any who refuse to halt."
"I listen," she said coolly.
"You shall call to us if you need us."
"I continue to listen."
"And if there comes a wagon, then you shall take the horses by the head and lead them this way until the fire shines on their heads. Go, little sister."
She took a trade-rifle from the stack, primed it freshly, and crossed the circle on light, swift feet.
When she had gone into the darkness, I bade de Golyer kick the fire. He did so and it blazed ruddy, painting in sanguine colour the sombre, unhealthy visage of my prisoner.
"Search him," said I briefly.
Joe and my Oneida rummaged him to the buff. It was in his boots they discovered, at last, a sheaf of papers.
I could not read what was writ, for the writing was in strange signs and figures; so presently I gave over trying and looked up at my prisoner, who now had dressed again.
"You are Captain Moucher?"
He denied it hoarsely; but I, having now no vestige of doubt concerning this miserable man's identity, ignored his answer.
"What is this paper which was taken from your boot?"
He seemed to find no word of explanation, but breathed harder and watched my eyes.
"Is it writ in a military cipher?"
"I do not know."
"How came these papers in your boot?"
He stammered out that somebody who had cleansed his boots must have dropped them in, and that, in pulling on his boots that morning, he had neither seen nor felt the papers.
"Where did you dress this morning?"
"At the Johnson Arms in Johnstown."
"You wear the uniform of an officer in the Canajoharie Regiment. Are you attached to that regiment?"
He said he was; then contradicted himself, saying he had been obliged to borrow the clothing from an officer because, while bathing in the Mohawk at Caughnawaga, his own clothing had been swept into the water and engulfed.
Over this lie he was slow in speech, and stammered much, licking his dry lips, and his reddish, furtive eyes travelling about him as though his stealthy mind were elsewhere.
"Do you recollect that we supped in company at Johnson Hall—you and I—and not so long ago?" I demanded.
He had no remembrance.
"And Lieutenant Hare and Captain Watts were of the company?"
He denied acquaintance with these gentlemen.
"Or Hiakatoo?"
Had never heard of him.
I bade Joe lay more dry wood on the fire and kick it well, for the sphagnum moss still dulled it. And, when it flared redly, I rose and walked close to the prisoner.
"What are you doing here?"
He had merely come out of curiosity to see the camp at Summer House.
"In disguise?"
He had no other clothing, and meant no harm. If we would let him go he would engage to return to Albany and never again to wear any clothing to which he was not entitled.
"Oh. Who was your mate there in the orchard, who also wore the Canajoharie regimentals?" I demanded.
An acquaintance made en passant, nothing more. He did not even know his name.
"I'll tell you his name," said I. "That man was Lieutenant Hare. And you are Captain Moucher. You are spies in our camp. We've taken you; we ought to take him before midnight.
"The paper I have of you is writ in British military cipher.
"Now, before I send you to Colonel Dayton, with my report of this examination, what have you to confess that I might add to my report, in extenuation?"
He made no answer. Presently a fit of ague seized him, so that he could scarce stand. Then he reeled sideways and, by accident, set foot in the live coals. And instantly went clean crazed with fright.
As the Oneida caught him by the shoulder, to steady him, he shrieked and cowered, grasping Joe's arm in his terror.
"They mean to murder me!" he yelled. "Keep your savages away, I tell you!"—struggling between Tahioni and Joe—"I'll say what you wish, if they won't burn me!—--"
"Be silent," I said. "We mean no bodily harm to you. Compose yourself, Captain Moucher. Do you take me for a monster to threaten you with torture?"
But the awful fear of fire was in this whimpering wretch, and I was ashamed to have my Oneidas see a white man so stricken with cowardly terrors.
His honour—what there was of it—he sold in stammering phrases to buy mercy of us; and I listened in disgust and astonishment to his confession, which came in a pell-mell of tumbling words, so that I was put to it to write down what he babbled.
He had gone on his knees, held back from my feet by the Oneida; and his poltroonery so sickened me that I could scarce see what I wrote down in mycarnet.
Every word was a betrayal of comrades; every whine a plea for his own blotched skin.
To save his neck—if treachery might save it—he sold his King, his cause, his comrades, and his own manhood.
And so I learned of him that Stevie Watts, disguised, had been that night at Summer House with Lieutenant Hare; that they had brought news to Lady Johnson of Sir John's safe arrival in Canada; that they had met and talked to Claudia Swift; had counted our men and made a very accurate report, which was writ in the military cipher which we discovered, and a copy of which Captain Watts also carried upon his proper person.
I learned that Walter Butler, now a captain of Royalist Rangers, also had come into the Valley in disguise, for the purpose of spying and of raising the Tory settlers against us.
I learned that Brant and Guy Johnson had been in England, but were on their way hither.
I learned that our army in Canada, decimated by battle, by smallpox, by fever, was giving ground and slowly retreating on Crown Point; and that Arnold now commanded them.
I learned that we were to be invaded from the west, the north, and the south by three armies, and thousands of savages; that Albany must burn, and Tryon flame from Schenectady to Saint Sacrement.... And I wrote all down.
"Is there more?" I asked, looking at him with utter loathing.
"Howell's house," he muttered, "the log house of John Howell—tonight——"
"The cabin on the hard ridge yonder?"
"Yes.... A plot to massacre this post.... They meet there."
"Who?"
"King's people.... John Howell, Dries Bowman, the Cadys, the Helmers, Girty, Dawling, Gene Grinnis, Balty Weed——"
"Tonight!"
"Yes."
"Where are they now?"
"Hid in the tamaracks—in the bush—God knows where!—--"
"When do they rendezvous?"
"Toward midnight."
"At John Howell's cabin?"
He nodded, muttering.
I got up, took him by the arm and jerked him to his feet.
"Read this!" I said, and thrust the paper of cipher writing under his nose.
But he could not, saying that Steve Watts had writ it, and that he was to carry it express to Oswego.
Now, whilst I stood there, striving to think out what was best to do and how most prudently to conduct in the instant necessity confronting me, there came Thiohero's sweet, clear whistle of a Canada sparrow, warning us to look sharp.
Then I heard the snort of a horse and the rattle and bump of a wagon.
"Tie the prisoner," said I to Godfrey; and turned to see the little maid of Askalege, her rifle shouldered, leading in two horses, behind which rumbled the wagon carrying our pay, food, arms, and clothing sent from Johnstown.
Two armed Continental soldiers sat atop; one, a corporal, driving, t'other on guard.
I spoke to them; called my Indians to unload the wagon, and bade Thiohero sling our kettle and make soupaan for us all.
The Continentals were nothing loth to eat with us. Tahioni had killed some wood-duck and three partridges; and these, with some dozen wild pigeons from the Stacking Ridge, furnished our meat.
I heaped a wooden platter and Godfrey squatted by Captain Moucher to feed him; but the prisoner refused food and sat with head hanging and the shivers shaking him with coward's ague.
When the meal was ended, I took the Continentals aside, gave the Corporal my report to Colonel Dayton, and charged them to deliver my prisoner at Johnstown jail. This they promised to do; and, as all was ready, horses fed, and a long, slow jog to Johnstown, the Corporal climbed to his seat and took the reins, and the other soldier aided my prisoner to mount.
"Will you speak for me at the court martial?" pleaded Moucher, in hoarse and dreadful tones. "Remember, sir, as God sees me, my confession was voluntary, and I swear by my mother's memory that I now see the error and the wickedness of my ways! Say that I said this—in Christ's name——"
The Corporal touched his cocked hat, swung his powerful horses. I am sure they were of Sir William's stock and came from the Hall.
"Mr. Drogue!" wailed the doomed wretch, "let God curse me if I meant any harm——"
I think the soldier beside him must have placed his hand over the poor wretch's mouth, for I heard nothing more except the rattle of wheels and the corporal-driver a-whistling "The Little Red Foot."
In my absence that day my men had erected an open-face hut for our stores.
Here we set lanterns, and here divided the clothing, including the stockings given me by Penelope—which I distributed with a heavy heart.
There was laid aside new buckskin clothing and fresh underwear for Luysnes, for Nick, and for Johnny Silver.
Then I paid the men, and gave a cash bonus to every Indian, and also a new rifle each,—not the trade-gun, but good weapons carrying an ounce ball.
To each, also, a new hatchet, new knife, blanket, leggins, tobacco, paints, razor, mirror, ammunition, and a flask of sweet-smelling oil.
I think I never have seen any Iroquois so overjoyed as were mine. And as for my Saguenay, he instantly squatted by the fire, fixed his mirror on a crotched stick, and fell to adorning himself by the red glow of the coals.
But I had scant leisure for watching them, where they moved about laughing and gossiping excitedly, comparing rifles, trying locks and pans, sorting out finery, or smearing themselves with gaudy symbols.
For, not a hundred rods east of us, across the ridge, stood that log hut of Howell's; and the owl-haunted tamaracks stretched away behind it in a misty wilderness. And in that swampy forest, at this very moment, were hidden desperate men who designed our deaths—men I knew—neighbors at Fonda's Bush, like the Cadys, Helmers, and Dries Bowman!—men who lately served in my militia company, like Balty Weed and Gene Grinnis.
Now, as I paced the fire circle, listening and waiting for Nick and Johnny Silver, I could scarce credit what the wretch, Moucher, had told me, so horrid bloody did their enterprise appear to me.
That they should strive to kill us when facing us in proper battle, that I could comprehend. But to plan in the darkness!—to come by stealth in their farmer's clothes to surprise us in our sleep!—faugh!
"My God," says I to Godfrey, who paced beside me, "why have they not at least embodied to do us such a filthy business? And if they were only a company with some officer to make them respectable—militia, minute men, rangers, anything!"
"They be bloody-minded folk," said he grimly. "No coureur-du-bois is harder, craftier, or more heartless than John Howell; no forest runner more merciless than Charlie Cady. These be rough and bloody men, John. And I think we are like to have a rude fight of it before sun-up."
I thought so too, but did not admit as much. I had ten men. They mustered ten—if Moucher's accounts were true. And I did not doubt it, under the circumstances of his pusillanimous confession.
The River Reed came to me to show me her necklace of coloured glass. And I drew her aside, told her as much as I cared to, and bade her prepare her Oneidas for a midnight battle.
At that moment I heard the Canada sparrow. Thiohero answered, sweet and clear. A few seconds later Nick and Silver came in, carrying the canoe paddles.
"They've gone," said Nick, with an oath. "Two mounted men and a led horse rode toward Johnstown two hours since. They wore Canajoharie regimentals. Major Westfall sent a dozen riders after 'em; but men who came so boldly to spy us out are like to get away as boldly, too."
He plucked my arm and I stepped apart with him.
"Westfall's in his dotage; Dayton is too slow. Why don't they send up Willett or Herkimer?"
"I don't know," said I, troubled.
"Well," says Nick, "it's clear that Stevie Watts was there and has spoken with Lady Johnson. But what more is to be done? She's our prisoner. I wish to God they'd sent her to Albany or New York, where she could contrive no mischief. And that other lady, too. Lord! but Major Westfall is in a pother! And I wager Colonel Dayton will be in another, and at his wit's ends."
The business distressed me beyond measure, and I remained silent.
"By the way," he added, "your yellow-haired inamorata sends you a billet-doux. Here it is."
I took the bit of folded paper, stepped aside and read it by the firelight:
"Sir:"I venture to entertain a hope that some day it may please you to converse again with one whose offense—if any—remains a mystery to her still."P. G."
"Sir:
"I venture to entertain a hope that some day it may please you to converse again with one whose offense—if any—remains a mystery to her still.
"P. G."
I read it again, then crumpled it and dropped it on the coals. I had seen Steve Watts kiss her. That was enough.
"There's a devil's nest of Tories gathering in Howell's house tonight to cut our throats," said I coldly. "Should we take them with ten men, or call in the Continentals?"
"Who be they?" asked Nick, astounded.
"The old pack—Cadys, Helmers, Bowman, Weed, Grinnis. They are ten rifles."
He got very red.
"This is a domestic business," said I. "Shall we wash our bloody linen for the world to see what filth chokes Fonda's Bush?"
"No," said he, slowly, with that faint flare in his eyes I had seen at times, "let us clean our own house o' vermin, and make no brag of what is only our proper shame."
It lacked still an hour to midnight, which time I had set for our advance upon John Howell's house, and my Oneidas had not yet done painting, when Johnny Silver, who was on guard, whistled from his post, and I ran thither with Nick.
A man in leather was coming in through thechevaux-de-frise, and Johnny dropped a tamarack log across the ditch for him, over which he ran like a tree-martin, and so climbed up into the flare of Nick's lantern.
The man in forest runner's dress was Dave Ellerson, known to us all as a good neighbor and a staunch Whig; but we scarce recognized him in his stringy buckskins and coon-skin cap, with the ringed tail a-bobbing.
On his hunting shirt there was a singular device of letters sewed there in white cloth, which composed the stirring phrase, "Liberty or Death." And we knew immediately that he had become a soldier in the 11th Virginia Regiment, which is called Morgan's Rifles.
He seemed to have travelled far, though light, for he carried only rifle and knife, ammunition, and a small sack which flapped flat and empty; but his manner was lively and his merry gaze clear and untroubled as we grasped his powerful hands.
"Why, Dave!" said I, "how come you here, out o' the North?"
"I travel express from Arnold to Schuyler," said he. "Have you a gill of rum, John?"
Johnny Silver had not drunk his gill, and poured it into Dave's pannikin.
Down it went, and he smacked his lips. Then we took him back to the fire, where the Oneidas were still a-painting, and made him eat and drink and dry him by the flames.
"Is there a horse to be had at Summer House?" he demanded, his mouth full of parched corn.
"Surely," said I. And asked him news of the North, if he were at liberty to give us any account.
"The news I can not give you is what I shall not," said he, laughing. "But there's plenty besides, and damned bad."
"Bad?"
"Monstrous bad, John. For on my forest-running south from Chambly, I saw Sir John and his crew as they gained the Canadas! They seemed near dead, too, but they were full three hundred, and I but one, so I did not tarry to mark 'em with a stealthy bullet, but pulled foot for Saint Sacrement."
He grinned, bit a morsel from a cold pigeon, and sat chewing it reflectively and watching the Indians at their painting.
"You know what is passing in Canada?" he demanded abruptly.
"Nothing definite," said I.
"Listen, then. We had taken Chambly, Montreal, and St. John's. Arnold lay before Quebec. Sullivan commanded us. Six weeks ago he sent Hazen's regiment to Arnold. Then the Canadians and Indians struck us at the Cedars, and we lost five hundred men before we were out of it."
"What was the reason for such disaster?" I demanded, turning hot with wrath.
"Cowardice and smallpox," said he carelessly. "They were new troops sent up to reinforce us, and their general, Thomas, died o' the pox.
"And atop of that comes news of British transports in the St. Lawrence, and of British regulars and Hessians.
"So Sullivan sends the Pennsylvania Line to strike 'em. St. Clair marches, Wayne marches, Irving follows with his regiment. Lord, how they were peppered, the Pennsylvania Line! And Thompson was taken, and Colonel Irving, and they wounded Anthony Wayne; and the Line ran!"
"Ran!"
"By God, yes. And our poor little Northern Army is on the run today, with thirteen thousand British on their heels.
"They drove us out o' Chambly. They took the Cedars. Montreal fell. St. John's followed. Quebec is freed. We're clean kicked out o' Canada, and marching up Lake Champlain, our rear in touch with the red-coats.
"If we stand and face about at Crown Point, we shall do more than I hope for.
"Thomas is dead, Thompson and Irving taken, Arnold and Wayne wounded, the army a skeleton, what with losses by death, wounds, disease, and in prisoners.
"Had not Arnold broke into the Montreal shops and taken food and woolen clothing, I think we had been naked now."
"Good heavens!" said I, burning with mortification, "I had not heard of such a rout!"
"Oh, it was no rout, John," said he carelessly. "Sullivan marched us out of that hell-hole in good order—whatever John Adams chooses to say about our army."
"What does John Adams say?"
"Why, he says we are disgraced, defeated, dispirited, discontented, undisciplined, diseased, eaten up with vermin."
"My God!" exclaimed Nick.
"It's true enough," said Dave, coolly. "And when John Adams also adds that we have no clothing, no beds, no blankets, no medicines, and only salt pork and flour to eat and little o' these, why, he's right, too. Why not admit truth? Does it help to conceal it? Nenni, lads! It is best always to face it and endeavour to turn into a falsehood tomorrow what is disgracefully true today.
"So when I tell you that in three months our Northern Army has lost five thousand men by smallpox, camp fever, bullets, and privation—that out of five thousand who remain, two thousand are sick, why, it's the plain and damnable truth.
"But any soldier who loses sleep or appetite over such cursed news should be run through with a bayonet, for he's a rabbit and no man!"
After a silence: "Who commands them now?" I asked.
"Gates is to take them over at Crown Point, I hear."
This news chilled me, for Schuyler should have commanded. But the damned Yankees, plotting their petty New England plots to discredit our dear General, had plainly hoodwinked Congress; and now our generous and noble Schuyler had again fallen a victim to nutmeg jealousy and cunning.
"Well," said I, "God help us all in Tryon, now; for a vain ass is in the saddle, and the counsel of the brave and wise remains unheeded. Will Guy Carleton drive us south of Crown Point?"
"I think so," said Ellerson, carelessly.
"Then the war will come among us here in Tryon!"
"Straight as a storm from the North, John."
"When?"
"Oh, that? God knows. We shall hold the lakes as long as we can. But unless we are reinforced by Continentals—unless every Colony sends us a regiment of their Lines—we can not hope to hold Crown Point, and that's sure as shooting and plain as preaching."
"Very well," said I between clenched teeth, "then we here in Tryon had best go about the purging of that same county, and physic this district against a dose o' red-coats."
Ellerson laughed and rose with the lithe ease of a panther.
"I should be on my way to Albany," says he. "You tell me there are horses at the Summer House, John?"
"Certainly."
We shook hands.
"You find Morgan's agreeable?" inquired Nick.
"A grand corps, lad! Tim Murphy is my mate. And I think there's not a rifleman among us who can not shoot the whiskers off a porcupine at a hundred yards." And to me, with a nod toward my Oneidas: "They are painting. Do you march tonight, John?"
"A matter of cleaning out a Tory nest yonder," said I.
"A filthy business and not war," quoth he. "Well, God be with all friends to liberty, for all hell is rising up against us. A thousand Indians are stripped for battle on this frontier—and the tall ships never cease arriving crammed with red-coats and Germans.
"So we should all do our duty now, whether that same duty lie in emptying barrack slops, or in cleaning out a Tory nest, or in marching to drum and fife, or guarding the still places of the wilderness—it's all one business, John."
Again we shook hands all around, then, waving aside Joe de Golyer and his proffered lantern, the celebrated rifleman passed lightly into the shadows.
"Yonder goes the best shot in the North," said Nick.
"Saving only yourself and Jack Mount and Tim Murphy," remarked Godfrey Shew.
"As for the whiskers of a porcupine," quoth Nick, with the wild flare a-glimmering in his eyes, "why, I have never tried such a target. But I should pick any button on a red coat at a hundred yards—that is, if I cast and pare my own bullet, and load in my own fashion."
Silver swore that any rifle among us white men should shave an otter of his whiskers, as a barber trims a Hessian.
"Sacré garce!" cried he, "why should we miss—we coureurs-du-bois, who have learn to shoot by ze hardes' of all drill-masters—a empty belly!"
"We must not miss at Howell's house," said I, counting my people at a glance.
The Saguenay, ghastly in scarlet and white, came and placed himself behind me.
All the Oneidas were naked, painted from lock to ankle in terrific symbols.
Thiohero was still oiling her supple, boyish body when I started a brief description of the part each one of us was to act, speaking in the Oneida dialect and in English.
"Take these bloody men alive," I added, "if it can be done. But if it can not, then slay them. For every one of these that escapes tonight shall return one day with a swarm of hornets to sting us all to death in County Tryon!... Are you ready for the command?"
"Ready, John," says Nick.
"March!"
At midnight we had surrounded Howell's house, save only the east approach, which we still left open for tardy skulkers.
A shadowy form or two slinking out from the tamaracks, their guns trailing, passed along the hard ridge, bent nearly double to avoid observation.
We could not recognize them, for they were very shadows, vague as frost-driven woodcock speeding at dusk to a sheltered swamp.
But, as they arrived, singly and in little groups, such a silent rage possessed me that I could scarce control my rifle, which quivered to take toll of these old neighbors who were returning by stealth at night to murder us in our beds.
The Saguenay lay in the wild grasses on my left; the little maid of Askalege, in her naked paint, lay on my right hand. Her forefinger caressed the trigger of her new rifle; the stock lay close to her cheek. And I could hear her singing herKarennain a mouse's whisper to herself:
"Listen, John Drogue,[16]Though we all die,You shall survive!Listen, John Drogue,This will happen,And it is well,Because I love you."Why do I love you?Because you are a boy-chief,And we are both young,Thou and I.Why do I love you?Because you are my elder brother,And you speak to the OneidasVery gently."I am a prophetess;I see events beforehand;This is my Karenna:Though we all die tonight,You shall survive in Scarlet:And this is well,Because I love you."
"Listen, John Drogue,[16]Though we all die,You shall survive!Listen, John Drogue,This will happen,And it is well,Because I love you.
"Why do I love you?Because you are a boy-chief,And we are both young,Thou and I.Why do I love you?Because you are my elder brother,And you speak to the OneidasVery gently.
"I am a prophetess;I see events beforehand;This is my Karenna:Though we all die tonight,You shall survive in Scarlet:And this is well,Because I love you."
So, crooning her prophecy, she lay flat in the wild grasses, cuddling the rifle-stock close to her shoulder; and her song's low cadence was like the burden of some cricket amid the herbage.
"Tharon alone knows all," I breathed in her ear.
"Neah!" she murmured; and touched her cheek against mine.
"Only God knows who shall survive tonight," I insisted.
"Onhteh. Ra-ko-wan-enh,"[17]she murmured. "But I have seen you,niare,[18]through a mist, coming from this place, O-ne-kwen-da-ri-en.[19]And dead bodies lay about. Do you believe me?"
I made no reply but lay motionless, watching the tamaracks, ghostly in their cerements of silver fog. And I heard, through the low rhythm of her song, owls howling far away amid those spectral wastes, and saw the Oneida Dancers,[20]very small and pale above the void.
I stared with fierce satisfaction at Howell's house. There was no gleam of light visible behind the closed shutters; but I already had counted nine men who came creeping to that silent rendezvous. And now there arrived the tenth man, running and stooping low; and went in by the east side of the house.
I waited a full minute longer, then whistled the whitethroat's call.
"Now!" said I to Thiohero; and we rose and walked forward through the light mist which lay knee-deep over the ground.
We had not advanced ten paces when three men, whom I had not perceived, rose up on the ridge to our right.
One of these shouted and fired a gun, and all three dropped flat again before we could realize what they had been about.
But already, out of that shadowy house, armed men swarmed like black hornets from their nest, and we ran to cut them from the tamaracks, but could not mark their flight in the so great darkness.
Then Nick Stoner struck flint, and dropped his tinder upon the remnants of a hay-stack, where wisps of last year's marsh grass still littered the rick.
In the smoky glow which grew I saw that great villain, Simon Girty, fire his gun at us, then turn and run toward the water; and Dries Bowman took after him, shouting in his fear.
Very carefully I fired at Girty, but he was not scotched, and was lost in the dark with Dries.
Then, in the increasing glow of the marsh-hay afire, I saw and recognized Elias Cady, and his venomous son, Charlie; and called loudly upon them to halt.
But they plunged into the shore reeds; and John and Phil Helmer at their heels; and we fired our guns into the dark, but could not stop them or again even hope to glimpse them in their flight.
But the Oneidas had now arrived between the tamaracks and the log house, and my Rangers were swiftly closing in on the west and south, when suddenly a couple of loud musket shots came from the crescents in the bolted shutters, hiding the west window in a double cloud of smoke.
I called out, "Halt!" to my people, for it was death to cross that circle of light ahead while the marsh-hay burned.
There were at least five men now barricaded in Howell's house. I called to Tahioni, the Wolf, and he came crouching and all trembling with excitement and impatience, like a fierce hound restrained.
"Take your people," said I, "and follow those dirty cowards who are fleeing toward the tamaracks."
Instantly his terrific panther-cry shattered the silence, and the Oneidas' wild answer to his slogan hung quavering over the Drowned Lands like the melancholy pulsations of a bell.
The hay-rick burned less brightly now. I crept out to the dark edge of the wavering glare and called across to those in the log-house:
"If you will surrender I promise to send you to Johnstown and let a court judge you! If you refuse, we shall take you by storm, try you on the spot, and execute sentence upon you in that house! I allow you five minutes!"
At that, two of them fired in the direction from whence came my voice; and I heard their bullets passing, aimed too high.
Then John Howell's voice bawls out, "I know you, Drogue; and so help me God, I shall cut your throat before this business ends!—you dirty renegade and traitor to your King!"
Such a rage possessed me that I scarce knew what I was about, and I ran across the grass to the bolted door of the house, and fell to slashing at it with my hatchet like a madman.
They were firing now so rapidly that the smoke of their guns made a choking fog about the house; but the log cabin had no overhang, not being built for defense, and so they over-shot me whilst my hatchet battered splinters from the door and shook it almost from its hinges.
Some one was coughing in the thick, rifle-fog near me, and presently I heard Nick swearing and hammering at the door with his gun butt.
The French trappers, not so rash as we, lay close in the darkness, shooting steadily into the shutters at short range.
Shutters and door, though splintering, held; the defenders fired at my men's rifle-flashes, or strove to shoot at Nick and me, where we crouched low in the sheltered doorway; but they could not sufficiently depress the muzzles of their guns to hit us.
Suddenly, from out of the night, came a fire-arrow, whistling, with dry moss all aflame, and lodged on the roof of Howell's house.
Quoth Nick: "Your Tree-eater is in action, John. God send that the fire catch!"
From the darkness, Silver called out to me that the marsh-hay had nearly burned out, and what were he and Joe to do? Then came a-whizzing another fire-arrow, and another, but whether the dew was too heavy on the roof or the moss too damp, I do not know; only that when at length the roof caught fire, it was but a tiny blaze and flickered feebly, eating a slow way along the edges of the eaves.
Nick, who had been wrenching at the imbedded door stone, finally freed and lifted it, and hurled it at the bolted shutters. In they crashed. Then the door, too, burst open, and Tom Dawling rushed upon me with his rifle clubbed high above me.
"You damned Whig!" he shouted, "I'll knock your brains all over the grass!"
My hatchet in a measure fended the blow and eased its murderous force, but I stumbled to my knees under it; and Baltus Weed came to the window and shot me through the body.
At that, Gene Grinnis ran out o' the house to cut my throat, where like a crippled wild beast I floundered, a-kicking and striving to find my feet; and I saw Nick draw up and shoot Gene through the face, with a load of buck, so that where were his features suddenly became but a vast and raw hole.
Down he sprawled across my hurt legs; down tumbled John Howell, too, and Silver, a-clinging to him tooth and nail, their broad knives flashing and ripping and whipping into flesh.
Striving desperately to free me of Grinnis, and get up, I saw Tom Dawling throw his axe at Godfrey; and saw Luysnes shoot him, then seize him and cut his throat, even as he was falling.
Johnny Silver began bawling lustily for help, with John Howell atop of him, cursing him for a rebel and striving to disembowel him. De Golyer caught Howell by the throat, and Silver scrambled to his feet, his clothing in bloody ribbons. Then Joe's hatchet flashed level with terrific swiftness, crashing to its mark; and Howell pitched backward with his head clean split from one eye to the other, making of the top of his skull a lid which hung hinged only by the hairy skin.
Luysnes and the Saguenay were now somewhere inside the house a-chasing of Balty Weed; and I could hear Balty screaming, and the thud and clatter of loose logs as they dragged him down from the loft overhead.
Nick came panting to me where I sat on the bloody grass, feeling sick o' my wound and now vomiting.
"Are you bad?" he asked breathlessly.
"Balty shot me.... I don't know——"
Somebody knelt down behind me, and I laid back my head, feeling very sick and faint, but entirely conscious.
The awful screaming in the house had never ceased; Nick sat down on the grass and fumbled at my shirt with trembling fingers.
Presently the screaming ceased. Luysnes came out o' the house with a lighted lantern, followed by the Saguenay; and in the wavering radiance I saw behind them the feet of a man twitching above the floor.
"We hung the louse to the rafters," said Luysnes, "and your Indian asks your leave to scalp him as soon as he's done a-kicking."
"Let him have the scalp," said de Golyer, grimly. "He shot John Drogue through the body. Shine your lantern on him, Ben."
They crowded around me. Nick opened my shirt and drew off my leggins. I saw Johnny Silver, in tatters and all drenched with blood, come into the lantern's rays.
"Are you bad hurt, John?" I gasped.
"Bah! Non, alors. Onlee has Howell slash my shirt into leetle rags and I am scratch all raw. Zat ees nozzing, mon capitaine—a leetle cut like wiz a Barlow—like zat! Pouf! Bah! I laugh. I make mock!"
"Your ribs are broken, John," says Nick, still squatting beside me. "I think your bones turned the bullet, and it's not lodged in your belly at all, but in your right thigh.... Fetch a sop o' wet moss, Joe!"
De Luysnes also got up and went away to chop some stout alders for a litter. De Golyer was back in a moment, both hands full of dripping sphagnum; and Nick washed away the mess of blood.
After that I was sick at my stomach again; and not clear in my mind what they were about.
I gazed around out of fevered eyes, and saw dead men lying near me. Suddenly the full horror of this civil war seemed to seize my senses;—all the shame of such a conflict, a black disgrace upon us here in County Tryon.
"Nick!" I cried, "in God's name give those men burial."
"Let them lie, damn them!" said Godfrey, sullenly.
"But they were our neighbors! I—I can't endure such a business.... And there are wolves in the tamaracks."
"Let wolf eat wolf," muttered Luysnes. But he drew his knife and went into the house. And I heard Balty's body drop when he cut it down.
Nick came over to me, where I lay on a frame of alders, over which a blanket had been thrown, and he promised that a burial party should come out here as soon as they got me into camp.
So two of my men lifted the litter, and, feeling sick and drowsy, I closed my eyes and felt the slow waves of pain sweep me with every step the litter-bearers took.
I had been lying in a kind of stupor upon my blanket, aware of dark figures passing to and fro before the lurid radiance of our watch fire, yet not heeding what they said and did, save only when I saw Nick and Luysnes go away carrying two ditch-spades. And was vaguely contented to have the dead put safe from wolves.
Later, when I opened my burning eyes and asked for water, I saw Tahioni in the flushed light of dawn, and knew that my Indians had returned.
Nick filled my pannikin. When I had drunk, I felt very ill and could scarcely find voice to ask him how my Oneidas had made out in the tamaracks.
He admitted that they had not come up with the fugitives; and added that I was badly hurt and should be quiet and trouble my mind about nothing for the present.
One by one my Indians came gravely to gaze upon me, and I tried to smile and to speak to each, but my mind seemed confused, what with the burning of my body and my great weariness.
When again I unclosed my eyes and asked for water, I was lying under the open-faced shed, and it was brilliant sunshine outside.
Somebody had stripped me and had heated water in the kettle, and was bathing my body.
Then I saw it was the little maid of Askalege.
"Thiohero,—little sister?"
At the sound of my voice, she came and bent over me. La one hand she held a great sponge of steaming sphagnum.
Then came Nick, who leaned closer above me.
"Their young sorceress," said he, "has washed your body with bitter-bark and sumach, and has cleansed the wounds and stopped them with dry moss and balsam, so that they have ceased bleeding."
I turned my heavy eyes on the Oneida girl.
"Truly," said I, "I have come back through the mist, returning in scarlet.... My little sister is very wise."
She said nothing, but lifted a pannikin of cold water to my lips. It had bitter herbs in it, and, I think, a little gin. I satisfied my thirst.
"Little sister," I gasped, "is the hole that Balty made in my body so great that my soul shall presently escape?"
She answered calmly: "I have looked through the wound into your body; and I saw your soul there, watching me. Then I conjured your soul, which is very white, to remain within your body. And your soul, seeing that it was not the Eye of Tharon looking in to discover it, went quietly to sleep. And will abide within you."
She spoke in the Oneida dialect, and Nick listened impatiently, not understanding.
"What does the little Oneida witch say?" he demanded.
Her brother, Tahioni, the Wolf, answered calmly: "The River-reed is a witch and is as wise as the Woman of the Sounding Skies. The River-reed sees events beforehand."
"She says John Drogue will live?" demanded Nick.
"He shall surely live," said Thiohero, drawing the blanket over me.
"Well, then," said Nick, "in God's name let us get him to the Summer House, where the surgeon of the Continentals can treat him properly, and the ladies there nurse him——"
That roused me, and I strove to sit up, but could not.
"I shall not go to Summer House!" I cried. "If I am in need of a surgeon, bring him here; but I want no women near me!—I do not desire any woman at Summer House to nurse me or aid or touch me——"
In my angry excitement at the very remembrance of Lady Johnson and Claudia, and of Penelope, whom I had beheld in Steve Watts' arms—and of that man himself, who had come spying,—I forced my body upright, furious at the mere thought and swore I had rather die here in camp than be taken thither.
Then, suddenly my elbow crumpled under me, and I fell back in an agony of pain so great that presently the world grew swiftly black and I knew no more.
When I became conscious, I was lying under blankets upon a trundle-bed, within the four walls of a very small room.
I wore a night-shift which was not mine, being finer and oddly ruffled; and under it my naked body was as stiff as a pike pole, and bound up like a mummy. My right thigh, too, was stiffly swathed and trussed, and I thought I should stifle from the heat of the blankets.
My mind was clear; I was aware of no sharp pain, no fever; but felt very weak, and could have slept again, only that perspiration drenched me and made me restless even as I dozed.
Sometime afterward—the same day, I think—I awoke in some pain, and realized that I was lying on my right side and that the wound in my thigh was being dressed.
The place smelled rank, like a pharmacy, and slightly sickened me.
There were several people in the little room. I saw Nick kneeling beside the bed, holding a pewter basin full of steaming water, and a Continental officer with his wrist-bands tucked up, choosing forceps from a battered leather case.
I could not move my body; my head seemed too heavy to lift; but I was aware of a woman standing close to where my head rested. I could see her two feet in their buckled shoes, and her petticoat of cotton stuff printed in flowers.
When the surgeon had done a-packing my wound with lint, pain had left me weak and indifferent, and I lay heavily, with lids closed.
Also, I had seen and heard enough to satisfy what languid curiosity I might have possessed. For I was in the gun-room at Summer House, whither, it appeared, they had taken me, despite my command to the contrary.
But now I was too weary to resent it; too listless to worry; too incurious to wonder who it might be that was at any pains to care for my broken body at Summer House Point.
Nick came, later, and I opened my eyes, but made no effort to speak. He seemed pleased, however, and gave me a filthy and bitter draught, which I swallowed, but which so madded me that I swore at him.
Whereupon he smiled and wiped my lips and tucked in the accursed blankets that had been stifling me and which now scraped my unshaven chin.
"Damnation!" I whispered, "you smother me, drown me in sweat, and feed me gall and wormwood!"
And I closed my eyes to sleep; but found my mind not so inclined, and lay half dozing, conscious of the sunlight on the floor.
So I was awake when he arrived again with a pot o' broth.
"Can you not leave me in peace!" said I, so savagely that he laughed outright and bent over, stirring the broth and grinning down at me.
Spoonful by spoonful I swallowed the broth. There was wine in it. This made me drowsy.
To keep account of time, whether it were still this day or the next, or how the hours were passing, had been a matter of indifference to me. Or how the world wagged outside the golden dusk of this small room had interested me not at all.
My Continental surgeon, whom they called Dr. Thatcher, came twice a day and went smartly about his business.
Nick dosed me and fed me. I had asked no questions; but my mind had become sullen and busy; and now I was groping backward and searching memory to find the time and place when I had lost touch with the world and with the business which had brought me into these parts.
All was clearly linked up to the time that Balty shot me. Afterward, only fragments of the chain of events remained in my memory. I heard again the thud of Balty's body on the puncheon floor, when Luysnes cut him down from the rafters of Howell's house. I remember that I saw men take ditch-spades to bury the dead. I remember that my body seemed all afire and that I became enraged and forbade them to take me to Summer House.
Further—and of the blank spaces between—I had no recollection save that the whole world seemed burning up in darkness and that my body was being consumed like a fagot in some hellish conflagration, where the flames were black and gave no light.
This day Dr. Thatcher and Nick washed me and closed my wounds.
There had been, it appeared, some drains left in them. The stiff harness on my ribs they left untouched. I breathed, now, without any pain, but itched most damnably.
My closed wounds itched. I desired broth no longer and demanded meat. But got none and swore at Nick.
A barber from the Continental camp arrived to trim me. He took a beard from me that amazed me, and enough hair to awake the envy of a school-girl—for I refused to wear a queue, and bade him trim my pol à la Coureur-du-Bois.
Now this barber, who was a private soldier, seemed willing to gossip; and of him I asked my first questions concerning the outside world and train of events.
But I soon perceived that all he knew was the veriest camp gossip, and that his budget of rumours and reports was of no value whatever. For he said that our armies were everywhere victorious; that the British armies were on the run; and that the war would be over in another month. Everybody, quoth he, would become rich and happy, with General Washington for our King, and every general a duke or marquis, and every soldier a landed proprietor, with nothing to do save sit on his porch, smoke his pipe, and watch his slaves plow his broad acres.
When this sorry ass took his leave, I had long since ceased to listen to him.
I felt very well, except for the accursed itching where my flesh was mending, and rib-bones knitting.
Dr. Thatcher came in. He was booted, spurred, wore pistols and sword, and a military foot-mantle.
When he caught my eyes he smiled slightly and asked me how I did. And I expressed my gratitude as suitably as I knew how, saying that I was well and desired to rise and be about my business.
"In two weeks," he said, which took me aback.
"Do you know how long you have been here?" he asked, amused.
"Some three or four days, I suppose.
"A month today, Mr. Drogue."
This stunned me. He seated himself on the camp-stool beside my trundle-bed.
"What preys upon your mind, Mr. Drogue?" he asked pleasantly.
"Sir?"
"I ask you what it is that troubles you."
I felt a slow heat in my cheeks:
"I have nothing on my mind, sir, save desire to return to duty."
He said in his kindly way: "You would mend more quickly, sir, if your mind were tranquil."
I felt my face flush to my hair:
"Why do you suppose that my mind is uneasy, Doctor?"
"You have asked no questions. A sick man, when recovering, asks many. You seem to remain incurious, indifferent. Yet, you are in the house of old friends."
He looked at me out of his kind, grave eyes: "Also," he said, "you had many days of fever."
My face burned: I feared to guess what he meant, but now I must ask.
"Did I babble?"
"A feverish patient often becomes loquacious."
"Of—of whom did I—rave?" I could scarce force myself to the question. Then, as he also seemed embarrassed, I added: "You need not name her, Doctor. But I beg you to tell me who besides yourself overheard me."
"Only your soldier, Nicholas Stoner, and a Saguenay Indian, who squats outside your door day and night."
"Nobody else?"
"I think not."
"Has Lady Johnson heard me? Or Mistress Swift? Or—Mistress Grant?" I stammered.
"Why, no," said he. "These ladies were most tender and attentive when your soldiers brought you hither; but two days afterward, while you still lay unconscious,—and your right lung filling solid,—there came a flag from General Schuyler, and an escort of Albany Horse for the ladies. And they departed as prisoners the following morning, with their flag, to be delivered and set at liberty inside the British lines."
"They are gone?"
"Yes, sir. Lady Johnson, while happy in her prospective freedom, and hopeful of meeting her husband in New York City, seemed very greatly distressed to leave you here in such a plight. And Mistress Swift offered to remain and care for you, but our military authorities would not allow it."
I said nothing.
He added, with a faint smile: "Our authorities, I take it, were impatient to be rid of responsibility for these fair prisoners, Mr. Drogue. I know that Schuyler is vastly relieved."
"Has Stephen Watts been taken?" I asked abruptly. "Or Hare, or Butler?"
"Not that I have heard of."
So they had got clean away, that spying crew!—Watts and Hare and Walter Butler! Well, that was better. God knows I had a million times rather meet Steve Watts in battle than take him skulking here inside our lines a-spying on our camp, exchanging information with his unhappy sister and with Claudia, or slinking about the shrubbery by night to press his sweetheart's waist and lips——
I turned my hot face on the pillow and lay a-thinking. The doctor laid back my blanket, looked at my hurts, then covered me.
"You do well," he said. "In two weeks you shall be out o' bed. Bones must knit and wounds scar before you carry pack again. And before your lung is strong you shall need six months rest ere you take the field."
Aghast at such news, I asked him the true nature of my hurts, and learned that Balty's bullet had broken three ribs into my right lung, then, glancing, had made a hole clean through my thigh, but not splintering the bone.
"That Oneida girl of Thomas Spencer's saved you," said he, "for she picked out the burnt wadding and bits of cloth, cleaned and checked the hemorrhage, and purged you. And there was no gangrene.
"She did all that anybody could have done; but the cold had already seized your lung before she arrived, and it was that which involved you so desperately."
After a silence: "Good God, doctor!Six months!"
"Six months before you take the field, sir."
"A half year of idleness? Why, that can not be, sir——"
"It is better than eternity in a coffin, sir," said he quietly.
Then he came and took my hand, saying that orders had come directing him to join our Northern Army at Crown Point, and that he was to set off within the hour.
"A little nursing and continued rest are all you now require," said he; "and so I leave you without anxiety, Mr. Drogue."
I strove to express my deep gratitude for his service to me; he pressed my hand, smilingly:
"If you would hasten convalescence," said he, "seek to recover that serenity of mind which is a surer medicine than any in my phials."
At the door he turned and looked back to me:
"I think," said he in an embarrassed voice, "that you have really no true reason for unhappiness, Mr. Drogue. If you have, then my experience of men and women has taught me nothing."
With that he went; and I heard his sword and spurs through the hallway, and the outer door close.
What had he meant?
For a long while I pondered this. Then into my mind came another and inevitable question:Whathad I said in my delirium?
I was hungry when Nick came.
"Well," says he, grinning at me, "our Continental saw-bones permits this fat wild pigeon. And now I hope I shall have no more cursing to endure."
Tears came into my eyes and I held out my hand. It was blanched white, and bony, and lay oddly in his great, brown paw.
"Lord," says he, "what a fright you have given us, John, what with coughing all day and night like a sick bullock——"
"I am mending, Nick."
"So says Major Squills. Here, lad, eat thy pigeon. Does it smack? And here is a little Spanish wine in this glass to nourish you. I had three bottles of the Continentals ere they marched——"
"Marched! Have they departed?" I demanded in astonishment.
"Horse, foot, and baggage," said he cheerily. "When I say 'horse,' I mean young Jack-boots, for he departed first with the flag that took my Lady Johnson to New York."
"So everybody has gone," said I, blankly.
"Why, yes, John. The flag came from Schuyler and off went the ladies, bag, baggage, and servants.
"Then come Colonels Van Schaick and Dayton from Johnstown to inspect our works at this place and at Fish House. And two days later orders come to abandon Fish House and Summer House Point.... You do not remember hearing their drums?"
"No."
"You were very bad that day," he said soberly. "But when their music played you opened your eyes and nothing would do but you must rise and dress. Lord, how wild you talked, and I was heartily glad when their drumming died away on the Johnstown road."
"You mean to tell me that there is no longer any garrison on the Sacandaga?" I asked, amazed.
"None. And but a meagre one at Johnstown. It seems we need troops everywhere and have none to send anywhere. They've even taken your scout and your Oneidas."
"What!" I exclaimed.
"They left a week ago, John, to work on the new fort which is being fashioned out of old Fort Stanwix. So Dayton sends your scout thither to play with pick and mattock, and your Oneidas to prowl along Wood Creek and guard the batteaux."
"You tell me that the Sacandaga is left destitute of garrison or scouts!" I asked angrily. "And Tryon crawling alive with Tories!—and the Cadys and Helmers and Bowmans and Reeds and Butlers and Hares and Stephen Watts stirring the disloyal to violence in every settlement betwixt Schenectady and Ballston!"
"I tell you we are too few for all our need, John,—too few to watch all places threatened. Schuyler has but one regiment of Continentals now. Gates commands at Crown Point and draws to him all available men. His Excellency is pressed for men in the South, too. Albany is almost defenceless, Schenectady practically unguarded, and only a handful of our people guard Johnstown."
"Where are the militia?" I demanded.
"Farming—save when the district call sends a regiment on guard or to work on the forts. But Herkimer has them in hand against a crisis, and I have no doubt that those Palatines will turn out to a man if Sir John comes hither with his murderous hordes."
I sat in silence, picking the bones of my pigeon. Nick said:
"Colonel Dayton came in here and looked at you. And when he left he said to me that you had proven a valuable scout; and that, if you survived, he desired you to remain here at the Summer House with me and with your Saguenay."
"For what purpose?" I demanded, sullenly.
"On observation."
"A scout of three! To cover the Sacandaga! Do they think we have wings? Or are a company of tree-cats with nine lives apiece?"
"Well," said Nick, scratching his ear in perplexity, "I know not what our colonels and our generals are thinking; but the soldiers are gone, and our doctor has now departed, so if Dayton leaves us four people alone here in the Summer House it must be because there is nothing for the present to apprehend, either from Sir John or from any Indian or Tory marauders."
"Fourpeople?" I repeated. "I thought you said we were but three here."
"Why," said he, "I mean that we are three men—three rifles!"
"Is there a servant woman, also?"
He looked at me oddly.
"The Caughnawaga girl came back."
"What!"
"The Scottish girl, Penelope."
"Came back! When?"
"Oh, that was long ago—after the flag left.... It seems she had meant to travel only to Mayfield with them.... She had not said so to anybody. But in the dark o' dawn she rides in on your mare, Kaya, having travelled all night long."
"'Why,' says I, 'what do you here on John Drogue's horse in the dark o' dawn?'
"'If there's danger,' says she calmly, 'this sick man should have a horse to carry him to Mayfield fort.'
"Which was true enough; and I said so, and stabled your mare where Lady Johnson's horses had left a warm and empty manger."
"Well," said I harshly, as he remained silent.
"Lord, Jack, that is all I know. She has cooked for you since, and has kept this house in order, washed dishes, fed the chickens and ducks and pig, groomed your horse, hoed the garden, sewed bandages, picked lint, knitted stockings and soldiers' vests——"
"Why?" I demanded.
"I asked her that, John. And she answered that there was nobody here to care for a sick man's comfort, and that Dr. Thatcher had told her you would die if they moved you to Johnstown hospital.
"I thought she'd become frightened and leave when the Continentals marched out; they all came—the officers—where she sat a-knitting by the apple-tree; but she only laughed at their importunities, made light of any dangers to be apprehended, and refused a seat on their camp wagon. And it pleased me, John, to see how doleful and crestfallen were some among those same young blue-and-buffs when they were obliged to ride away that morning and leave here there a-sewing up your shirt where Balty's bullet had rent it."
A slight thrill shot me through. But it died cold. And I thought of Steve Watts, and of her in his embrace under the lilacs.
If she now remained here it was for no reason concerning me. It was because she thought her lover might return some night and take her in his arms again. That was the reason.
And with this miserable conclusion, a more dreadful doubt seized me. What of the loyalty of a girl whose lover is a King's man?
I remembered how, in the blossoming orchard, she had whispered to me that she was a friend to liberty.
Was that to be believed of a maid whose lover came into our camp a spy?
I lay back on my pillow and closed my eyes. What was this girl to me that I should care one way or the other?
Nick took my platter and went away, leaving me to sleep as I seemed to desire it.
But I had no desire to sleep. And as I lay there, I became sensible that my entire and battered body was almost imperceptibly a-tremble.