Scene—New York City(EnterGeneral Sir Wm. Howe and Mrs. ——, preceded by Fame in cap and bells, flourishing a bladder.)Fame(speaks)"Without wit, without wisdom, half stupid, half drunk,And rolling along arm-in-arm with his Punk,Comes gallant Sir William, the warrior (by proxy)To harangue his soldiers (held up by his Doxy)!"Sir Wm.(speaks)"My boys, I'm a-going to send you to Tryon,To Johnstown, whereyou'llget as groggy as I am!By a Tory from there I have just been informedThat there's nobody there, so the town shall be stormed!For if nobody's there and nobody near it,My army shall conquer that town, never fear it!"(EnterJoe Gallopaway, a refugee Tory)Joe"Brave soldiers, go fight that we all may get rich!"Regular Soldiers"We'll fetch you a halter, you * * * * !Get out! And go live in the woods upon nuts,Or we'll give you our bayonets plump in your guts!Do you think we are fighting to feed such a crewAs Butler, Sir John, Mr. Singler and you?"(EnterSir John Johnson)Sir John"Come on, my brave boys! Now! as bold as a lion!And march at my heels to the County called Tryon;My lads, there's no danger, for this you should know,That I'd let it alone if I thought it was so!So point all your noses towards the DominionAnd we'll all live like lords is my honest opinion!"Scene—Buck Island Trail(EnterFame, Sir John, and his Royal Greens)Fame"In cunning and canting, deceit and disguise,In breaking parole by inventing cheap lies,Sir John is a match for the worst of his species,But in this undertaking he'll soon go to pieces.He'll fall to the rear, for he'd rather go last,Crying, 'Forward, my boys! Let me see you all past!For his Majesty's service (so reads my commission)Requires I push forward the whole expedition!"Sir John"I care not a louse for the United States,—For General Schuyler or General Gates!March forward, my lads, and account for each sinner,While Butler, St. Leger, and I go to dinner.For plenty's in Tryon of eating and drinking,Who'd stay in New York to be starving and stinking."March over the Mohawk! March over, march over,You'll live like a parcel of hogs in sweet clover!"Scene—Outside Fort Stanwix(A council of war. At a distance the new American flag flying above the bastions)Sir John"I'm sorry I'm here, for I'm horribly scared,But how did I know that they'd all be prepared?The fate of our forray looks darker and darker,The state of our larder grows starker and starker,I fear that a round-shot or one of their carkers[33]May breech my new breeches like poor Peter Parker's![34]Oh, say, if my rear is uncovered, what then!—"(EnterWalter Butler in a panic)Butler"Held! Schuyler is coming with ten thousand men!"(A canon shot from the Fort)Sir John(falls flat)"I'm done! A cannon ball of thirty poundHas hit me where Sir Peter got his wound.I'm done! I'm all undone! So don't unbutt'n'm;But say adieu for me to Clairette Putnam!"[35](Entera swarm of surgeons)Surgeons"Compose yourself, good sir—forget your fright;We promise you you are not slain outright.The wound you got is not so mortal deepBut bleeding, cupping, patience, rest, and sleep,With blisters, clysters, physic, air and dietWill set you up again if you'll be quiet!"Sir John"So thick, so fast the balls and bullets flew,Some hit me here, some there, some thro' and thro',Beneath my legs a score of hosses fell,Shot under me by twice as many shell;And though my soldiers falter and beseech,Forward I strode, defiant to the breech,And there, as History my valour teaches,I fell as Cæsar fell, and lost—my breeches!His face lay in his toga, in defeat,So let me hide my face within my seat,My requiem the rebel cannons roar,My duty done, my bottom very sore.Tell Willett he may keep his flour and pork,For I am going back to dear New York."(Exit on a litter to the Rogue's March)
Scene—New York City
(EnterGeneral Sir Wm. Howe and Mrs. ——, preceded by Fame in cap and bells, flourishing a bladder.)
Fame(speaks)
"Without wit, without wisdom, half stupid, half drunk,And rolling along arm-in-arm with his Punk,Comes gallant Sir William, the warrior (by proxy)To harangue his soldiers (held up by his Doxy)!"
Sir Wm.(speaks)
"My boys, I'm a-going to send you to Tryon,To Johnstown, whereyou'llget as groggy as I am!By a Tory from there I have just been informedThat there's nobody there, so the town shall be stormed!For if nobody's there and nobody near it,My army shall conquer that town, never fear it!"
(EnterJoe Gallopaway, a refugee Tory)
Joe
"Brave soldiers, go fight that we all may get rich!"
Regular Soldiers
"We'll fetch you a halter, you * * * * !Get out! And go live in the woods upon nuts,Or we'll give you our bayonets plump in your guts!Do you think we are fighting to feed such a crewAs Butler, Sir John, Mr. Singler and you?"
(EnterSir John Johnson)
Sir John
"Come on, my brave boys! Now! as bold as a lion!And march at my heels to the County called Tryon;My lads, there's no danger, for this you should know,That I'd let it alone if I thought it was so!So point all your noses towards the DominionAnd we'll all live like lords is my honest opinion!"
Scene—Buck Island Trail
(EnterFame, Sir John, and his Royal Greens)
Fame
"In cunning and canting, deceit and disguise,In breaking parole by inventing cheap lies,Sir John is a match for the worst of his species,But in this undertaking he'll soon go to pieces.He'll fall to the rear, for he'd rather go last,Crying, 'Forward, my boys! Let me see you all past!For his Majesty's service (so reads my commission)Requires I push forward the whole expedition!"
Sir John
"I care not a louse for the United States,—For General Schuyler or General Gates!March forward, my lads, and account for each sinner,While Butler, St. Leger, and I go to dinner.For plenty's in Tryon of eating and drinking,Who'd stay in New York to be starving and stinking."March over the Mohawk! March over, march over,You'll live like a parcel of hogs in sweet clover!"
Scene—Outside Fort Stanwix
(A council of war. At a distance the new American flag flying above the bastions)
Sir John
"I'm sorry I'm here, for I'm horribly scared,But how did I know that they'd all be prepared?The fate of our forray looks darker and darker,The state of our larder grows starker and starker,I fear that a round-shot or one of their carkers[33]May breech my new breeches like poor Peter Parker's![34]Oh, say, if my rear is uncovered, what then!—"
(EnterWalter Butler in a panic)
Butler
"Held! Schuyler is coming with ten thousand men!"
(A canon shot from the Fort)
Sir John(falls flat)
"I'm done! A cannon ball of thirty poundHas hit me where Sir Peter got his wound.I'm done! I'm all undone! So don't unbutt'n'm;But say adieu for me to Clairette Putnam!"[35]
(Entera swarm of surgeons)
Surgeons
"Compose yourself, good sir—forget your fright;We promise you you are not slain outright.The wound you got is not so mortal deepBut bleeding, cupping, patience, rest, and sleep,With blisters, clysters, physic, air and dietWill set you up again if you'll be quiet!"
Sir John
"So thick, so fast the balls and bullets flew,Some hit me here, some there, some thro' and thro',Beneath my legs a score of hosses fell,Shot under me by twice as many shell;And though my soldiers falter and beseech,Forward I strode, defiant to the breech,And there, as History my valour teaches,I fell as Cæsar fell, and lost—my breeches!His face lay in his toga, in defeat,So let me hide my face within my seat,My requiem the rebel cannons roar,My duty done, my bottom very sore.Tell Willett he may keep his flour and pork,For I am going back to dear New York."
(Exit on a litter to the Rogue's March)
"If we fight at Stanwix," says Penelope, "God send the business end as gaily as your broadside, Nick!"
And so, amid laughter, our last evening together came to an end, and it was time to part.
Nick gave Penelope a hearty smack, grinned broadly at me, seized my hands and whispered: "What did I tell you of the Scotch girl of Caughnawaga, who hath a way with her which is the undoing of all innocent young men?"
"Idiot!" said I fiercely, "I am not undone in such a manner!" Like two bear-cubs we clutched and wrestled; then he hugged me, laughed, and broke away.
"Farewell, comrades," he cried, snatching sack and musket from the corner. "If I can not fife the red-coats into hell to the Rogue's March, or my brother John drum them there to the Devil's tattoo, then my daddy shall persuade 'em thither with musket-music! Three stout Stoners and three lanky Livingstons, and all in the same regiment! Hurrah!"
And off and down the tavern stairs he ran, clattering and clanking, and shouting out a fond good-bye to Burke, who had forgiven him the goat.
Standing in the candle-light by the window, where a million rainwashed stars twinkled in the depthless ocean of the night, I rested my brow against the cool, glazed pane, lost in most bitter reflexion.
Penelope had gone to her chamber; behind me the dishevelled table stood, bearing the candles and the débris of our last supper; a nosegay of bright flowers—Nick's parting token—lay on the floor, where they had fallen from Penelope's bosom.
After a while I left the window and sat down, taking my head between my hands; and I had been sitting so for some time in ugly, sullen mood, when a noise caused me to look up.
Penelope stood by the door, her yellow hair about her face and shoulders, and still combing of it while her brown eyes regarded me with an odd intentness.
"Your light still blazed from your window," she said. "I had some misgiving that you sat here brooding all alone."
I felt my face flush, for it had deeply humiliated me that she should know how I was offered no employment while others had been called or permitted to seek relief from inglorious idleness.
She flung the bright banner of her hair over her right shoulder, caressed the thick and shining tresses, and so continued combing, still watching me, her head a little on one side.
"All know you to be faithful, diligent and brave," said she. "You should not let it chafe your pride because others are called to duty before you are summoned. Often it chances that Merit paces the ante-chamber while Mediocrity is granted audience. But Opportunity redresses such accidents."
"Opportunity," I repeated sneeringly, "—where is she?—for I have not seen or heard of that soft-footed jade who, they say, comes a-knocking once in a life-time; and thereafter knocks at our door no more."
"Oh, John Drogue—John Drogue," said she in her strange and wistful way, "you shall hear the clear summons on your door very soon—all too soon for one of us,—for one of us, John Drogue."
Her brown eyes were on me, unabashed; by touch she was dividing the yellow masses of her hair into two equal parts. And now she slowly braided each to peg them for the night beneath her ruffled cap.
When she had braided and pegged her hair, she took the night-cap from her apron pocket and drew it over her golden head, tying the tabs under her chin.
"It is strange," she said with her wistful smile, "that, though the world is ending, we needs must waste in sleep a portion of what time remains to us.... And so I am for bed, John Drogue.... Lest that same tapping-jade come to your door tonight and waken me, also, with her loud knocking."
"Why do you say so? Have you news?"
"Did I not once foresee a battle in the North? And men in strange uniforms?"
"Yes," said I, smiling away the disappointment of a vague and momentary hope.
"I think that battle will happen very soon," she said gravely.
"You said that I should be there,—with that pale shadow in its shroud. Very well; only that I be given employment and live to see at least one battle, I care not whether I meet my weird in its winding-sheet. Because any man of spirit, and not a mouse, had rather meet his end that way than sink into dissolution in aged and toothless idleness."
"If you were not a very young and untried soldier," said she, "you would not permit impatience to ravage you and sour you as it does. And for me, too, it saddens and spoils our last few days together."
"Our last few days? You speak with a certainty—an authority——"
"I know the summons is coming very soon."
"If I could but believe in your Scottish second-sight——"
"Would you be happy?"
"Happy! I should deem myself the most fortunate man on earth!—if I could believe your Scottish prophecy!"
She came nearer, and her eyes seemed depthless dusky in her pale face.
"If that is all you require for happiness, John Drogue," said she in her low, still voice, "then you may take your pleasure of it. I tell you Iknow! And we have but few hours left together, you and I."
Spite of common sense and disbelief in superstitions I could not remain entirely unconcerned before such perfect sincerity, though that she believed in her own strange gift could scarcely convince me.
"Come," said I smilingly, "it may be so. At all events, you cheer me, Penelope, and your kindness heartens me.... Forgive my sullen temper;—it is hard for a man to think himself ignored and perhaps despised. And my ears ache with listening for that same gentle tapping upon my door."
"I hear it now," she said under her breath.
"I hear nothing."
"Alas, no! Yet, that soft-footed maid is knocking on your door.... If only you had heart to hear."
"One does not hear with one's heart," said I, smiling, and stirred to plague her for her mixed metaphor.
"I do," said she, faintly.
After a little silence she turned to go; and I followed, scarce knowing why; and took her hand in the doorway.
"Little prophetess," said I, "who promises me what my heart desires, will you touch your lips to mine as a pledge that your prophecy shall come true?"
She looked back over her shoulder, and remained so, her cheek on her right shoulder.
"Your heart desires a battle, John Drogue; your idle vanity my lips.... But you may possess them if you will."
"I do love you dearly, Penelope Grant."
She said with a breathless little smile:
"Would you love me better if my prophecy came true this very night?"
But I was troubled at that, and had no mind to sound those unventured deeps which, at such moments, I could feel vaguely astir within me. Nor yet did I seriously consider what I truly desired of this slender maid within the circle of my arms, nor what was to come of such sudden encounters with their swift smile and oddly halting breath and the heart, surprised, rhyming rapidly and unevenly in a reckless measure which pleasured less than it embarrassed.
She loosed her hands and drew away from me, and leaned against the wall, not looking toward me.
"I think," she said in a stifled voice, "you are to have your wish this night.... Do you hear anything?"
In the intense stillness, straining my ears, I fancied presently that I heard a distant sound in the night. But if it had been so it died out, and the beat of my heart was louder. Then, of a sudden, I seemed to hear it again, and thought it was my pulses startled by sudden hope.
"What is that sound?" I whispered. "Do you hear it?"
"Aye."
"I hear it also.... Is it imagination? Is there a horse on the highway? Why, I tell you there is!... Thereis! Do you think he rides express?"
"Out o' the North, my lord," she whispered. And suddenly she turned, gave me a blind look, stretched out one hand.
"Whydo you think that horseman comes for me!" I said. My imagination caught fire, flamed, and I stood shivering and crushing her fingers in my grasp. "Why—why—do you think so?" I stammered. "He's turned into William Street! He gallops this way! Damnation! He heads toward the Hall!—No!No!By God, he is in our street, galloping—galloping——"
Like a pistol shot came a far cry in the darkness: "Express-ho! I pass! I pass!" The racket of iron-shod hoofs echoed in the street; doors and windows flew open; a confusion of voices filled my ears; the rattling roar of the hoofs came to a clashing halt.
"Jimmy Burke's Tavern!" shouted a hoarse voice.
"Ye're there, me gay galloper!" came Burke's bantering voice. "An' phwat's afther ye that ye ride the night like a banshee? Is it Sir John that's chasin' ye crazy, Jock Gallopaway?"
"Ah-h," retorted the express, "fetch a drink for me and tell me is there a Mr. Drogue lodging here? Hey? Upstairs? Well, wait a minute——"
I still had Penelope's hand in mine as in the grip of a vise, so excited was I, when the express came stamping up the stairs in his jack-boots and pistols—a light-horseman of the Albany troop, who seemed smart enough in his mud-splashed helmet and uniform.
"You are Mr. Drogue, sir?"
"I am."
He promptly saluted, fished out a letter from his sack and offered it.
In my joy I gave him five shillings in hard money, and then, dragging Penelope by the hand, hastened to break the numerous and heavy seals and open my letter and read it by the candle's yellow flare.
"Headquarters Northern Dist:Dept: of Tryon County.Albany, N. Y.August 1st, 1777.Confidential"To John Drogue, Esqr,Lieut: Rangers.Sir,"An Oneida runner arrived today, who gives an account that GenlSt. Leger, with the corps of Sir John Johnson and Colonel John Butler, including a thousand savages under Joseph Brant, has been detached from the army of GenlBurgoyne, and is marching on Fort Schuyler."You are directed to take the field instantly with a scout of Oneida Indians, who await you at a rendezvous marked upon the secret map which I enclose herewith."You will cross the Buck Island trail somewhere between Rocky River and the Mohawk, and observe St. Leger's line of communications, cutting off such small posts as prove not too strong, taking prisoners if possible, and ascertaining St. Leger's ultimate objective, which may be Johnstown or even Schenectady."Having satisfied yourself concerning these matters, you will send your despatch by a runner to Albany, and instantly move your detachment toward Saratoga, where you should come into touch with our Northern forces under General Gates, and there render a verbal report to General Gates in person."You are strictly cautioned to destroy this letter after reading, and to maintain absolute secrecy concerning its contents. The map you may retain, but if you are taken you should endeavour to destroy it."Sir, I have the honour to be, etc., etc.,"Ph. Schuyler,"Maj: Gen'l."
"Headquarters Northern Dist:Dept: of Tryon County.Albany, N. Y.August 1st, 1777.
Confidential
"To John Drogue, Esqr,Lieut: Rangers.
Sir,
"An Oneida runner arrived today, who gives an account that GenlSt. Leger, with the corps of Sir John Johnson and Colonel John Butler, including a thousand savages under Joseph Brant, has been detached from the army of GenlBurgoyne, and is marching on Fort Schuyler.
"You are directed to take the field instantly with a scout of Oneida Indians, who await you at a rendezvous marked upon the secret map which I enclose herewith.
"You will cross the Buck Island trail somewhere between Rocky River and the Mohawk, and observe St. Leger's line of communications, cutting off such small posts as prove not too strong, taking prisoners if possible, and ascertaining St. Leger's ultimate objective, which may be Johnstown or even Schenectady.
"Having satisfied yourself concerning these matters, you will send your despatch by a runner to Albany, and instantly move your detachment toward Saratoga, where you should come into touch with our Northern forces under General Gates, and there render a verbal report to General Gates in person.
"You are strictly cautioned to destroy this letter after reading, and to maintain absolute secrecy concerning its contents. The map you may retain, but if you are taken you should endeavour to destroy it.
"Sir, I have the honour to be, etc., etc.,
"Ph. Schuyler,"Maj: Gen'l."
Twice I read the letter before I twisted it to a torch and burned it in the candle flame.
Then I called out to the express: "Say to the personage who sent you hither that his letter is destroyed, and his orders shall be instantly obeyed. Burke has fresh horses for those who ride express."
Off downstairs he went in his jack-boots, equipments jingling and clanking, and I unfolded my map but scarce could hold it steady in my excitement.
Immediately I perceived that I did not need the map to find the rendezvous, for, as Brent-Meester, I had known that wilderness as perfectly as I knew the streets in Johnstown.
So I made another torch of the map, laughing under my breath to think that Sir William's late forest warden should require such an article.
All this time, too, I had forgotten Penelope; and turned, now, and saw her watching me, slim and motionless and white as snow.
When her eyes met mine she strove to smile, asking me whether indeed she had not proven a true prophetess.
As she spoke, suddenly a great fear possessed me concerning her; and I stood staring at her in a terrible perplexity.
For now there seemed to be nothing for it but to leave her here, the Schenectady road already being unsafe, or so considered by Schuyler until more certain information could be obtained.
"Do you leave tonight?" she asked calmly.
"Yes, immediately."
She cast a glance at my rifle standing in the corner, and at my pack, which I had always ready in the event of such sudden summons.
Now I went over to the corner where my baggage lay, lifted the pack and strapped it; put on powder horn, bullet pouch, and sack, slung my knife and my light war-hatchet, and took my cap and rifle.
The moment of parting was here. It scared and confused me, so swiftly had it come upon us.
As I went toward her she turned and walked to the door, and leaned against the frame awaiting me.
"If trouble comes," I muttered, "the fort is strong.... But I wish to God you were in Albany."
"I shall do well enough here.... Will you come again to Johnstown?"
"Yes. Good-bye."
"Good-bye, John Drogue."
"Will you care for Kaya?"
"Yes."
"And if I do not return you are to have all with which I die possessed. I have written it."
"In that event I keep only my memory of you. The rest I offer to the needy—in your name."
Her voice was steady, and her hand, too, where it lay passive in mine. But it crisped and caught my fingers convulsively when I kissed her; and crept up along my fringed sleeve to my shoulder-cape, and grasped the green thrums.
And now her arm lay tightly around my neck, and I looked down into the whitest face I ever had gazed upon.
"I love you dearly," I said, "and am deep in love.... I want you, Penelope Grant."
"I want you," she said.
My heart was suffocating me:
"Shall we exchange vows?" I managed to say.
"What vows, sir?"
"Such as engage our honour. I want you to wife, Penelope Grant."
"Dear lad! What are you saying? You should travel widely and at leisure before you commit your honour to an unconsidered vow. I desire that you first see great cities, other countries, other women—of your own caste.... And then ... if you return ... and are still of the same mind ... concerning me...."
"Butyou? There are other men in the world. And I must have your vows before I go!"
"Oh, if it be only mine you desire, then I promise you, John Drogue, to look at no man with kindness in your absence, think of no man excepting you, pray for none save only His Excellency and General Schuyler, dream of none, God willing, but you. And to remain in deed and thought and word and conduct constant and faithful to you alone."
"Then," said I, trembling, "I also promise——"
"No!"
"But I——"
"Wait! For God's sake mind what you say; for I will not have it that your honour should ever summon you hither and not your heart! No! Let be as it is."
Her sudden warmth and the quick flush of determination on her face checked and silenced me.
She said very coolly: "Any person of sense must know that a marriage is unsuitable between a servant to Douw Fonda and John Murray DrogueForbes, Laird of Northesk, and a Stormont to boot!"
"Where got you thatForbes?" I demanded, astonished and angry.
She laughed. "Because I know the clan,my lord!"
"How do you know?" I repeated, astounded.
"Because it is my own clan and name. Drogue-Forbes, Grant-Forbes!—a claymore or a pair of scissors can snip the link when some Glencoe or Culloden of adversity scatters families to the four winds and seven seas.... Well, sir, as the saying is in Northesk, 'a Drogue stops at nothing but a Forbes. And a Grant is as stubborn.' Did you ever hear that?"
"Yes.... Andyouare a Forbes of Northesk?"
"Like yourself, sir, westop before a liaison."
Her rapier wit confused and amazed me; her sudden revelation of our kinship confounded me.
"Good God," said I, "why have you never told me this, Penelope?"
She shook her yellow head defiantly: "A would na," quoth she, her chin hanging down, but the brown eyes of her watching me. "And it was a servant-maid you asked to wife you, and none other either.... D'ye ken that, you Stormont lad? It was me—me!—who may wear theBeadlaidh, too!—me who can cry 'Lonach! Lonach! Creag Ealachaidh!' with as stout a heart and clean a pride as you, Ian Drogue, Laird o' Northesk!—laird o' my soul and heart—my lord—my dear, dear lord——"
She flung her arms across her face and burst into a fit of weeping; and as I caught her in my arms she leaned so on my breast, sobbing out her happiness and fears and pride and love, and her gratitude to God that I should have loved her for herself in the body of a maid-servant, and that I had bespoken her fairly where in all the land no man had offered more than that which she might take from him out of his left hand.
So, for a long while, we stood there together, clasped breast to breast, dumb with tenderness and mazed in the spell of first young love.
I stammered my vows, and she now opposed me nothing, only clinging to me the closer, confident, submissive, acquiescent in all I wished and asked and said.
There were ink, paper, a quill, and sand in her chamber. We went thither, and I wrote out drafts upon Schenectady, and composed letters of assurance and recognition, which would be useful to her in case of necessity.
I got Jimmy Burke out o' bed and shewed him all I had writ, and made him witness our signatures and engaged him to appear if necessary.
These papers and money drafts, together with Penelope's papers and letters she had of Douw Fonda and of the Patroon, were sufficient to establish her with the new will I made and had witnessed at the fort a week before.
And so, at midnight, in her little chamber at Burke's Inn, I parted from Penelope Grant,—dropped to my knee and kissed her feet, who had been servant to the county gentry and courted by the county quality, but had been mistress of none in all the world excepting only of herself.
When I was ready she handed me my rifle, buckled up my shoulder sack, smoothed my fringed cape with steady hands, walked with me to her chamber door.
Her face rested an instant against mine, but there were no tears, no trembling, only the swift passion of her lips; and then—"God be with you, John Drogue!" And so, with gay courage, closed her chamber door.
I turned and stumbled out along the corridor, carrying my rifle and feeling my way to the hand-rail, down the creaking stairway, and out into the starry night.
That night I lay on my blanket in the forest, but slept only three hours, and was awake in the gates of morning before the sun rose, ready to move on to the Wood of Brakabeen, our rendezvous in Schoharie.
Never shall I forget that August day so crowded with events.
And first in the yellow flare of sun-up, on the edge of a pasture where acres of dew sparkled, I saw a young girl milking; and went to her to beg a cup of new milk.
But she was very offish until she learned to what party I belonged, and then gave me a dipper full of sweet milk.
When I had satisfied my thirst, she took me by the hand and drew me into a grove of pines where none could observe us. And here she told me her name, which was Angelica Vrooman, and warned me not to travel through Schoharie by any highway.
For, said she, the district was all smouldering with disloyalty, and the Tories growing more defiant day by day with news of Sir John's advance and McDonald also on the way from the southward to burn the place and murder all.
"My God, sir," says she, in a very passion of horror and resentment, "I know not how we, in Schoharie, shall contrive, for Herkimer has called out our regiment and they march this morning to their rendezvous with the Palatine Regiment.
"What are we to do, sir? The Middle Fort alone is defensible; the Upper and Lower Forts are still a-building, and sodders still at labour, and neither ditch nor palisade begun."
"You have your exempts," said I, troubled, "and your rangers."
"Our exempts work on the forts; our rangers are few and scattered, and Colonel Harper knows not where to turn for a runner or a rifleman!
"General Schuyler has writ to my father and says how he desires General Ten Broeck to order out the whole of the militia, only that he fears that they will behave like the Schenectady and Schoharie militia have done and that very few will march unless provision is made for their families' security.
"A man rides express today to the garrison in the Highlands to pray for two hundred Continentals. Which is only just, as we are exposed to McDonald and Sir John, and have already sent most of our men to the Continental Line, and have left only our regiment, which marches today, and the remainder all disaffected and plotting treason."
"Plotting treason? What do you mean, child?" I demanded anxiously.
"Why, sir, Captain Mann and his company refuse to march. He declares himself a friend to King George, has barricaded Brick House,[36]is collecting Indians and Tories, and swears he will join McDonald's outlaws and destroy us unless we lay down our arms and accept royal protection."
"Why—why the filthy dog!" I stammered, "I have never heard the like of such treason!"
"Can you help us, sir?" she asked earnestly.
"I shall endeavour to do so," said I, red with wrath.
"Our people have planned to seize and barricade Stone House," said she. "My father rides express to Albany. Why, sir, so put to it are we that Henry Hager, an aged exempt of over seventy years, is scouting for our party. Is our situation not pitiful?"
"Have all the young men gone? Have you no brothers to defend this house?"
"No, sir.... I have a lover.... He is Lieutenant Wirt, of the Albany Light Horse. But he has writ to my father that he can not leave his cavalry to help us."
It was sad enough; and I promised the girl I would do what I could; and so left her, continuing on along the fences in the shadow of the woods.
It was not long afterward when I heard military music in the distance. And now, from a hill, I saw long files of muskets shining in the early sun.
It was the Canajoharie Regiment marching with fife, drum, and bugle-horn to join Herkimer; and so near they passed at the foot of the low hill where I stood that I could see and recognize their mounted officers; and saw, riding with them, Spencer, the Oneida interpreter, splendidly horsed; and Colonel Cox, old George Klock's smart son-in-law, who, when Brant asked him if he were not related to that thieving villain of the Moonlight Survey, replied: "Yes, I am, but what is that to you, you s—- of an Indian!"
I saw and recognized Colonels Vrooman and Zielie, Majors Becker and Eckerson, and Larry Schoolcraft, the regimental adjutant; and, sitting upon their transport waggon, Dirck Larraway, Storm Becker, Jost Bouck of Clavarack, and Barent Bergen of Kinderhook.
So, in the morning sunshine, marched the 15th N. Y. Militia, carrying in its ranks the flower of the district's manhood and the principal defenders of the Schoharie Valley.
Very soberly I turned away into the woods.
For it was a strange and moving and dreadful sight I had beheld, knowing personally almost every man who was marching there toward the British fire, and aware that practically every soldier in those sturdy ranks had a brother, or father, or son, or relative of some description in the ranks of the opposing party.
Here, indeed, were the seeds of horror that civil war sprouts! For I think that only the Hager family, and perhaps the Beckers, were all mustered in our own service. But there were Tory Vroomans, Swarts, Van Dycks, Eckersons, Van Slycks—aye, even Tory Herkimer, too, which most furiously saddened our brave old General Honikol.
Well, I took to the forest as I say, but it was so thick and the travelling so wearisome, that I bore again to the left, and presently came out along the clearings and pasture fences.
Venturing now to travel the highway for a little way, and being stopped by nobody, I became more confident; and when I saw a woman washing clothes by the Schoharie Creek, I did not trouble to avoid her, but strode on.
She heard me coming, and looked up over her shoulder; and I saw she was a notorious slattern of the Valley, whose name, I think, was Staats, but who was commonly known as Rya's Pup.
"Aha!" says she, clearing the unkempt hair from her ratty face. "What is Forbes o' Culloden doing in Schoharie? Sure," says she, "there must be blood to sniff in the wind when a Northesk bloodhound comes here a-nosing northward!"
"Well, Madame Staats," said I calmly, "you appear to know more about Culloden than do I myself. Did that great loon, McDonald, tell you all these old-wives' tales?"
"Ho-ho!" says she, her two hands on her hips, a-kneeling there by the water's edge, "the McDonalds should know blood, too, when they smell it."
"You seem to be friends with that outlaw. And do you know where he now is?" I asked carelessly.
"If I do," says the slut, with an oath, "it is my own affair and none of the Forbes or Drogues or such kittle-cattle either;—mark that, my young cockerel, and journey about your business!"
"You are not very civil, Madame Staats."
"Why, you damned rebel," says she, "would you teach me manners?"
"God forbid, madam," said I, smiling. "I'd wear gray hairs ere you learned your a-b-c."
"You'll wear no hair at all when McDonald is done with you," she cries, and bursts into laughter so shocking that I go on, shivering and sad to see in any woman such unkindness.
About noon I saw Lawyer's Tavern; and from the fences north of the house I secretly observed it for a long while before venturing thither.
John Lawyer, whatever his political complexion, welcomed me kindly and gave me dinner.
I asked news, and he gave an account that Brick House was now but a barracks full of Tories and Schoharie Indians, led by Sethen and Little David or Ogeyonda, a runner, who now took British money and wore scarlet paint.
"We in this valley know not what to do," said he, "nor dare, indeed, do aught save take protection from the stronger party, as it chances to be at the moment, and thank God we still wear our proper hair."
And, try as I might, I could not determine to which party he truly belonged, so wary was mine host and so fearful of committing himself.
The sun hung low when I came to the Wood of Brakabeen; and saw the tall forest oaks, their tops all rosy in the sunset, and the great green pines wearing their gilded spires against the evening sky.
Dusk fell as I traversed the wood, where, deep within, a cool and ferny glade runs east and west, and a small and icy stream flows through the nodding grasses of the swale, setting the wet green things and spray-drenched blossoms quivering along its banks.
And here, suddenly, in the purple dusk, three Indians rose up and barred my way. And I saw, with joy, my three Oneidas, Tahioni the Wolf, Kwiyeh the Screech-owl, Hanatoh the Water-snake, all shaven, oiled, and in their paint; and all wearing the Tortoise and The Little Red Foot.
So deeply the encounter affected me that I could scarce speak as I pressed their extended hands, one after another, and felt their eager, caressing touch on my arms and shoulders.
"Brother," they said, "we are happy to be chosen for the scout under your command. We are contented to have you with us again.
"We were told by the Saguenay, who passed here on his way to the Little Falls, that you had recovered of your hurts, but we are glad to see for ourselves that this is so, and that our elder brother is strong and well and fit once more for the battle-trail!"
I told them I was indeed recovered, and never felt better than at that moment. I inquired warmly concerning each, and how fortune had treated them. I listened to their accounts of stealthy scouting, of ambushes in silent places, of death-duels amid the eternal dusk of shaggy forests, where sunlight never penetrated the matted roof of boughs.
They shewed me their scalps, their scars, their equipment, accoutrement, finery. They related what news was to be had of the enemy, saying that Stanwix was already invested by small advance parties of Mohawks under forester officers; that trees had been felled across Wood Creek; that the commands of Gansevoort and Willett occupied the fort on which soldiers still worked to sod the parapets.
Of McDonald, however, they knew nothing, and nothing concerning Burgoyne, but they had brazenly attended the Iroquois Federal Council, when their nation was summoned there, and saw their great men, Spencer and Skenandoa treated with cold indifference when the attitude of the Oneida nation was made clear to the Indian Department and the Six Nations.
"Then, brother," said Tahioni sadly, "our sachems covered themselves in their blankets, and Skenandoa led them from the last Onondaga fire that ever shall burn in North America."
"And we young warriors followed," added Kwiyeh, "and we walked in silence, our hands resting on our hatchets."
"The Long House is breaking in two," said the Water-snake. "In the middle it is sinking down. It sags already over Oneida Lake. The serpent that lives there shall see it settling down through the deep water to lie in ruins upon the magic sands forever."
After a decent silence Tahioni patted the Little Red Foot sewed on the breast of my hunting shirt.
"If we all are to perish," he said proudly, "they shall respect our scalps and our memory. Haih! Oneida! We young men salute our dying nation."
I lifted my hatchet in silence, then slowly sheathed it.
"Is our Little Maid of Askalege well?" I asked.
"Thiohero is well. The River-reed makes magic yonder in the swale," said Tahioni seriously.
"Is Thiohero here?" I exclaimed.
Her brother smiled: "She is a girl-warrior as well as our Oneida prophetess. Skenandoa respects and consults her. Spencer, who worships your white God and is still humble before Tharon, has said that my sister is quite a witch. All Oneidas know her to be a sorceress. She can make a pair of old moccasins jump about when she drums."
"Where is she now?"
"Yonder in the glade dancing with the fire-flies."
I walked forward in the luminous dusk, surrounded by my Oneidas. And, of a sudden, in the swale ahead I saw sparks whirling up in clouds, but perceived no fire.
"Fire-flies," whispered Tahioni.
And now, in the centre of the turbulent whirl of living sparks, I saw a slim and supple shape, like a boy warrior stripped for war, and dancing there all alone amid the gold and myriad greenish dots of light eddying above the swale grass.
Swaying, twisting, graceful as a thread of smoke, the little sorceress danced in a perfect whirlwind of fire-flies, which made an incandescent cloud enveloping her.
And I heard her singing in a low, clear voice the song that timed the rhythm of her naked limbs and her painted body, from which the cinctured wampum-broidered sporran flew like a shower of jewels:
"Wood o' Brakabeen,Hiahya!Leaves, flowers, grasses green,Dancing where you leanAbove the stream unseen,Hiahya!Dance, little fireflies,Like shooting stars in winter skies;Dance, little fireflies,As the Oneida Dancers whirl,Where silver clouds unfurl,Revealing a dark HeavenAnd Sisters Seven.Hiahya! Wood o' Brakabeen!Hiahya! Grasses green!You shall tell me what they meanWho ride hither,Who 'bide thither,Who creep unseenIn red coats and in green;Who come this way,Who come to slay!Hiahya! my fireflies!Tell me all you knowAbout the foe!Where hath he hidden?Whither hath he ridden?Where are the Maquas in their paint,Who have forgotten their Girl-Sainte?[37]Hiahya!I am The River-Reed!Hiahya!All things take heed!Naked, without drum or maskI do my magic task.Fireflies, tell me what I ask!..."
"Wood o' Brakabeen,Hiahya!Leaves, flowers, grasses green,Dancing where you leanAbove the stream unseen,Hiahya!Dance, little fireflies,Like shooting stars in winter skies;Dance, little fireflies,As the Oneida Dancers whirl,Where silver clouds unfurl,Revealing a dark HeavenAnd Sisters Seven.Hiahya! Wood o' Brakabeen!Hiahya! Grasses green!You shall tell me what they meanWho ride hither,Who 'bide thither,Who creep unseenIn red coats and in green;Who come this way,Who come to slay!Hiahya! my fireflies!Tell me all you knowAbout the foe!Where hath he hidden?Whither hath he ridden?Where are the Maquas in their paint,Who have forgotten their Girl-Sainte?[37]Hiahya!I am The River-Reed!Hiahya!All things take heed!Naked, without drum or maskI do my magic task.Fireflies, tell me what I ask!..."
"He-he!" chuckled The Water-snake, "Thiohero is quite a witch!"
We seated ourselves. If the Little Maid of Askalege, whirling in her dance, perceived us through her veil of living phosphorescence, she made no sign.
And it was a long time before she stood still, swayed outward, reeled across the grass, and fell face down among the ferns.
As I sprang to my feet Tahioni caught my arm.
"Remain very silent and still, my elder brother," he said gravely.
For a full hour, I think, the girl lay motionless among the ferns. The cloud of fire-flies had vanished. Rarely one sparkled distantly now, far away in the glade.
The delay, in the darkness, seemed interminable before the girl stirred, raised her head, slowly sat upright.
Then she lifted one slim arm and called softly to me:
"Nai, my Captain!"
"Nai, Thiohero!" I answered.
She came creeping through the herbage and gathered herself cross-legged beside me. I took her hands warmly, and released them; and she caressed my arms and face with velvet touch.
"It is happiness to see you, my Captain," she said softly.
"Nai! Was I not right when I foretold your hurt at the fight near the Drowned Lands?"
"Truly," said I, "you are a sorceress; and I am deeply grateful to you for your care of me when I lay wounded by Howell's house."
"I hear you. I listen attentively. I am glad," she said. "And I continue to listen for your voice, my Captain."
"Then—have you talked secretly with the fire-flies?" I asked gravely.
"I have talked with them."
"And have they told you anything, little sister?"
"The fire-flies say that many green-coats and Maquas have gone to Stanwix," she replied seriously, "and that other green-coats,—who now wearredcoats,—are following from Oswego."
I nodded: "Sir John's Yorkers," I said to Tahioni.
"Also," she said, "there are with them men instrange uniforms, which are not American, not British."
"What!" I exclaimed, startled in spite of myself.
"Strange men in strange dress," she murmured, "who speak neither English nor French nor Iroquois nor Algonquin."
Then, all in an instant, it came to me what she meant—what Penelope had meant.
"You mean the Chasseurs from Buck Island," said I, "the Hessians!"
But she did not know, only that they wore gray and green clothing and were tall, ruddy men—taller for the odd caps they wore, and their long legs buttoned in black to the hips.
"Hessians," I repeated. "Hainault riflemen hired out to the King of England by their greedy and contemptible German master and by that great ass, George Third, shipped hither to stir in us Americans a hatred for himself that never shall be extinguished!"
"Are their scalps well haired?" inquired Tahioni anxiously.
It seemed a ludicrous thing to say, and I was put to it to stifle my sudden mirth.
"They wear pig-tails in eel-skins, and stiffened with pomade that stinks from New York to Albany," said I.
Then my mood sobered again; and I thought of Penelope's vision and wondered whether I was truly fated to meet my end in combat with these dogs of Germans.
The Screech-owl had made a fire. Also, before my arrival he had killed an August doe, and a haunch was now a-roasting and filling my nostrils with a pleasant odour.
We spread our blankets and ate our parched corn, watching our meat cooking.
"And McDonald?" I inquired of Thiohero, who sat close to me and rested her head on my shoulder while eating her parched com.
"My fire-flies tell me," said she gravely, "that the outlaws travel this way, and shall hang on the Schoharie in ambush."
"When?"
"When there is a battle near Stanwix."
"Oh. Shall McDonald come to Brakabeen?"
"Yes."
I gazed absently at the fire, slowly chewing my parched corn.
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 also find Sir John's line of communication and penetrate his purpose?
On a leaf of mycarnetI made a map which was shaped like an immense right-angle triangle, its apex Fort Stanwix in the west; its base Schoharie Creek; the Mohawk River its perpendicular; its hypothenuse my bee's-flight to Oneida.
The only certain information I possessed was that Sir John and St. Leger had sailed from Buck Island to Oswego, and from there were marching somewhere. I guessed, of course, that they were approaching the Mohawk by way of Oneida Lake; yet, even so, they might have detached McDonald's outlaws and sent them to Otsego; or they might be coming upon us in full force from that same direction, with flanking war parties flung out toward Stanwix to aid their strategy.
One thing, however, seemed almost certain, and that was the direction their waggons must take from Oneida Lake; for I did not think Sir John would attempt Otsego in any force after his tragic dose of a pathless wilderness the year before.
I saw very plainly, however, that I must now give up any attempt to scout for McDonald's painted demons on the Schoharie until I had discovered 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 this hazardous business with my handful of scouts. The easier way was instantly to face about, secure two good canoes at Schoharie, make directly for the Mohawk River, and follow it westward by water day and night.
But the surer way to run across Sir John's trail—and perhaps McDonald's—was to take to the western forests, follow the hypothenuse of 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 blanket that night; and I was loath to leave the Schoharie and ashamed to turn tail to McDonald's ragamuffins, when the entire district was in so great distress, 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 devising punishment for him, even though in the meanwhile he should carry fire and sword through Schoharie,—perhaps menace Schenectady,—perhaps Albany itself.
No, there was no other choice; and finally I realized this, after a night passed in agonized indecision, and asking God's guidance to aid my inexperience 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 them the map I had made in mycarnet, told them what I had decided, and invited opinions from everybody. I added that there now was no time for any customary formalities of deliberation so dear to all Indians: I told them that Tharon and God were one; and that our ancestors understood and approved what we were about to do.
Then I laid a handful of dry sticks upon the ground, pretended that this was a fire; warmed my hands at it; lighted an imaginary pipe; puffed it and passed it around in pantomime.
Still employing symbols to reassure these young Oneida warriors concerning time-honoured formalities which they dared not disregard, I drew a circle in the air with my finger, cut it twice with an imaginary horizontal line to indicate a sunrise and a sunset, then turned to Tahioni and bade him answer my speech ofyesterdayafter anight's deliberation.
The young warrior replied gravely that he and his comrades had consulted, and were of one mind with me. He said that it was with sorrow that they turned their backs on McDonald, who was a great villain and who surely would now be coming to Schoharie to murder and destroy; but thatit did no good to sever the tail of a snake. He said that the fanged head of the Tory Serpent was somewhere east of Oneida Lake; that if we scouted swiftly and thoroughly in that direction we could very soon surmise where the poisonous head was about to strike, by discovering and then observing the direction in which the body of the serpent was travelling.
One by one I asked my young men for an opinion: the youthful warriors were unanimous.
Then I turned and gazed fearfully at Thiohero, knowing well enough that these other adolescents would obey her blindly, and in dread lest her own dreams should sway her judgment and counsel her to advise us to some folly. She was their prophetess; there was nothing to do without her sanction. I could not order these Oneidas; I could only attempt to use them through their own instincts and personal loyalty to myself.
The early sun gilded the painted body of their sorceress, making of her clan ensign and the Little Red Foot two brilliant and jewelled symbols.
She stood lithely upright, one smooth knee nestling to the other, her feet in their ankle moccasins planted parallel and close together, and her body all glistening like a gold dragon-fly.
From her painted cincture hung her war-sporran,—a narrow cascade of pale blue wampum barred with scarlet and lined with winter weasel. Hatchet and knife swung from either hip; powder-horn and bullet-wallet dangled beneath her arm-pits. A war bow and a quiver full of scarlet arrows hung at her back. Her hair, shoulder-short and glossy-thick, was bound above the brows by a tight scarlet circlet. From this, across her left ear, sagged a heron's feather.
Never had I beheld such wild and supple grace in any living thing save only in a young panther clothed in the soft, dun-gold of her wedding fur.
"Thiohero," I said, "little sister to whom has been given an instinct more delicate than ours, and senses more subtle, and a wisdom both human and superhuman,—you who listen when the forest trees talk one to another under the full moon's lustre,—you who understand the speech of our lesser comrades that fly through the air paths on bright wings, or run through the dusky woodlands on four furry feet—you who speak secretly with the mighty dead; who whisper and laugh with fairies and little people and stone-throwers; who with your magic drum can make worn-out and cast-off moccasins dance; whose ancestress ate live coals to frighten away the Flying Heads; whose forefathers destroyed the Stonish Giants;we Oneidas of the clan of the Little Red Footare now of one mind concerning the war-trail we ought to take and follow to the end!
"Little sister; we desire to know your opinion.Hiero!"
Then the Little Maid of Askalege folded her arms, looking me intently in the eyes.
"Brother, and my Captain," she said very quietly, "a year ago I told you that you should come from Howell's housein scarlet. And it was so.
"And while you lay at Summer House a Caughnawaga woman, with yellow hair, washed the scarlet from your body.
"And there came a day when, we met under apple-trees in green fruit—this Yellow Haired woman and I. And, stopping, we confronted each the other; and looked deeply into one another's minds.
"Brother: when I discovered that Yellow Hair was in love with you I became angry. But when I discovered that this young woman alsowas a sorceress, then I became afraid.
"Brother: there was a vision in her mind, and I also beheld the scene she gazed at.
"Brother: we saw a battle in the North, and men in strange uniforms, and cannon smoke. And webothwere looking uponyou; and upon a shape near you, which stood wrapped to the head in white garments.
"Brother: I do not know what that shape may have been which stood robed in white like a Chief of the Eight Plumed Ones.
"But at that moment we both understood—the Yellow Haired one and I—that you must surely travel to this place we gazed at.
"So it makes no difference where you decide to go; all trails lead to that appointed place; and you shall surely come there at the hour appointed, though you travel the world over and across before you shall at last arrive.
"Brother: we Oneida, of the Allied Clan of the Little Red Foot, are now of one mind with our elder brother. He is our chief and Captain. He has spoken as an Oneida to Oneidas. We understand. We thank him for his love offered. We thank him for his kinship offered. We accept; and, in our turn, we offer to our elder brother and Captain our love and our kinship. We take him among us as an Oneida.
"At this our fire—for alas! no fire shall burn again at Onondaga, nor at Oneida Lake, nor at The Wood's Edge, nor at Thendara—I, Thiohero, Sorceress of Askalege, andOyaneh, 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 of club-moss. Then, straightening up, she lifted her arms and held the chaplet 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!" she added in a strangled voice: "Now I have finished. Now show me theman!"
"He is here!" cried the excited Oneidas. "He wears the antlers!"
Tahioni stretched out his hand; it was trembling when he touched the red foot 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 meant that she must have knowledge that a great man and chief among the Oneida lay dead somewhere at that very moment.
Slowly the girl turned her head from one to another; a veiled look drowned her gaze; the young men were quivering in the imminence of a revelation based upon knowledge which could be explained only by sorcery.
Then the Little Maid of Askalege took a dry stick from the pretended fire, crumbled it, touched her lips with the powder in sign of personal and 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 the Oneidas staring at their prophetess.
"Therefore," she whispered, "I acquaint you that we have chosen this young man to take his place; we lift the antlers; we give him the same name,—Hahyion!"[38]
"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 what knowledge she presumed to predict the death of Spencer, and to raise me up 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 must act quickly.
"Come, then," said I in a shaky voice, "we People of the Rock must march on the Gates of Sunset. If my fate lies there, why then I am due to die in that place!... Make ready, Oneidas!"
The Screech-owl found a hollow under a windfall; and here we hurriedly hid our heavier baggage.
Then, when all had completed painting the Little Red Foot on their bellies, 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 was good en route; but to cover this great triangle of forests we were obliged to use the tactics of hunting wolves and, from some given point, circle the surrounding country, in hopes of cutting the hidden British trail we sought.
This delayed us; but it was the only way. And, like trained hunting dogs, we even quartered and cut up the wilderness, halting and encircling Cherry Valley on the second day out, because I knew how familiar was Walter Butler with that region and with the people who inhabited it, and suspected that he might be likely to lead his first attack over ground he knew so well.
Ah, God!—had I known then what all the world knows now! And I erred only in guessing at the time of Cherry Valley's martyrdom, not in estimating the ferocious purpose of young Walter Butler.
On the afternoon of our second day out from Schoharie, while we were still beating up the bush of the Cherry Valley district, I left my Indians and went alone down into the pretty settlement in quest of information and also to renew our scanty stock of provisions. I found the lovely place almost deserted, save for a few old men of the exempts working on a sort of fort around Colonel Clyde's house, and a few women and 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 my friend 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, with Sir 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, his engaging sister whom I had admired so often at the Hall, and who was beloved like a daughter by Sir William.
I shall never forget the amazement of these delightful and kindly people when I appeared at their door in Cherry Valley, nor their affectionate hospitality when they learned my purpose and my errand.
A sack of provisions was immediately provided me; their kindness and courtesy seemed inexhaustible, although even now the shadow of terror lay over Cherry Valley. Their young men under Colonels Clyde and Campbell had gone to join Herkimer; they were utterly destitute of defense against McDonald or Sir John if Schoharie were invaded, or if Stanwix fell, or if Herkimer gave way before St. Leger.
They asked news of me very calmly, and I told them all I had learned and something of the sinister rumours which now were current in the Mohawk and Schoharie Valleys.
They, in their turn, knew nothing positive of Sir John, but had heard that he was marching on Stanwix with St. Leger and Brant, and that a thousand savages were with them.
My sojourn at the Wells house was brief; the family was evidently very anxious but not gloomy; even the children smiled courageously when I made my adieux; and my dear little friend, Janet, led me by the hand to the edge of the brush-field, through which I must travel to regain the forest, and kissed me at our parting.
On the wood's edge, I paused and looked back at the place called Cherry Valley, lying so peacefully in the sunshine, where in the fields grain already 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 late afternoon, where tasseled corn like ranks of plumed Indians, covered vale and hillock; and clover and English grass grew green again after the first haying; and on some orchard trees the summer apples glimmered rosy ripe or lush gold among the leaves;—ah, God!—if I could have known what another year was to bring to Cherry Valley!
There was no sound in the still settlement except a dull and distant stirring made by the workmen sodding parapets on the new and unfinished fort.
From where I stood I could see the Wells house, and the little children at play in the dooryard; and Peter Smith, a servant, drawing water, who one day was to see his master's family in their blood.
I could make out Colonel Campbell's house, too, and the chimney of Colonel Clyde's house; and had a far glimpse of the residence of the Reverend Mr. Dunlop, the aged minister of Cherry Valley.
From a gilded weather-cock I was able to guess about where Captain M'Kean should reside; and Mr. Mitchell's barn I discovered, also. But M'Kean and his rangers must now be marching with Herkimer's five regiments to meet the hordes of St. Leger.
The sun sank blood-red behind the unbroken forests, and the sky over Cherry Valley seemed to be all afire as I turned away and entered the twilight 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 found not a trace of Sir John or of anybody in that trackless wilderness; and so camped at last, exhausted and discouraged.
On the fourth day, toward sunset, the Screech-owl, roaming far out on our western flank, returned with news of a dead and stinking fire in the woods, and fish heads rotting in it; and he thought the last ember burnt out some four days since.
He took us to it in the dark, and his was a better woodcraft than I could boast, who had been Brent-Meester, too. At dawn we examined the ashes, but discovered nothing; and we were eating our parched corn and discussing the matter of the fire when, very far away in the west, a shot sounded; and in that same second we were on our feet and listening like damned men for the last trumpet.
My heart made a deadened rataplan like a muffled drum, and seemed to deafen me, so terribly intent was I.
Tahioni stretched out like a panther sunning on a log; and laid his ear flat against the earth. Seconds grew to minutes; nobody stirred; no other sound came from the westward.
Presently I turned and signalled in silence; my Indians crawled noiselessly to their allotted intervals, extending our line north and south; then, trailing my rifle, I stole forward through an open forest, beneath the ancient and enormous trees of which no underbrush grew in the eternal twilight.
Nothing stirred. There were no animals here, no birds, no living creature that I could hear or see,—not even an insect.
Under our tread the mat of moist dead leaves gave back no sound; the silence in this dim place was absolute.
We had been creeping forward for more than an hour, I think, before I discovered the first sign of man in that spectral region.
I was breasting a small hillock set with tall walnut trees, in hopes of obtaining a better view ahead, and had just reached the crest, and, lying flat, was lifting my head for a cautious survey, when my eye caught a long, wide streak of sunlight ahead.
My Indians, too, had seen this tell-tale evidence which indicated either a stream or a road. But we all knew it was a road. We could see the sunshine dappling it; and we crawled toward it, belly dragging, like tree-cats stalking a dappled fawn.
Scarce had we come near enough to observe this road plainly, and the crushed ferns and swale grasses in the new waggon ruts, when we heard horses 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 astonishment and perplexity, from theeast, and travelling the wrong way.
I cautioned my Oneidas fiercely against firing unless I so signalled them; we lay waiting in an excitement well nigh unendurable, while nearer and nearer came the leisurely sound of the advancing horses.
And now we saw them!—three red-coat dragoons riding very carelessly westward on this wide, well-trodden road which now I knew must lead to Oneida Lake.
I could see the British horsemen plainly. The day was hot; the sun beat down on their red jackets and helmets; they sat their saddles wearily; their faces were wet with perspiration, and they had loosened jacket and neck-cloth, and their pistols were in holster, and their guns slung upon their backs.
It was plain that these troopers had no thought of precaution nor entertained any apprehension of danger on this road, which must lie in the rear of their army, and must also be their route of communication between the Lake and the Mohawk.
Slap, slop, clink! they trampled past us where my Oneidas lay a-tremble like crouched cats to see the rats escaping on their runway.
But my ears had caught another sound,—the distant noise of wheels; and I guessed that this was a waggon which the three horsemen should have escorted, but, feeling entirely secure, had let their horses take their own gait, and so had straggled on far ahead of the convoy with which they should have kept in touch.
The waggon was far away. It approached slowly. Already the horsemen had ridden clear out o' sight; and we crept to the edge of the road and lay flat in the weeds, waiting, listening.
Twice the approaching vehicle halted as though to rest the horses; the dragoons must have been a long way ahead by this time, for it was some minutes since the sound of their horses' hoofs had died away in the woods.