CHAPTER XXIII. THE FINAL FIGHT
Shif'less Sol and Tom Ross were also looking under the mats, and thethree would have recognized those figures anywhere. The taller wasTimmendiquas, the other Thayendanegea. The thin light from the windowfell upon their faces, and Henry saw that both were sad. Haughty andproud they were still, but each bore the look that comes only fromcontinued defeat and great disappointment. It is truth to say thatthe concealed three watched them with a curiosity so intense thatall thought of their own risk was forgotten. To Henry, as well as hiscomrades, these two were the greatest of all Indian chiefs.
The White Lightning of the Wyandots and the Joseph Brant of the Mohawksstood for a space side by side, gazing out of the window, taking a lastlook at the great Seneca Castle. It was Thayendanegea who spoke first,using Wyandot, which Henry understood.
"Farewell, my brother, great chief of the Wyandots," he said. "You havecome far with your warriors, and you have been by our side in battle.The Six Nations owe you much. You have helped us in victory, and youhave not deserted us in defeat. You are the greatest of warriors, theboldest in battle, and the most skillful."
Timmendiquas made a deprecatory gesture, but Thayendanegea went on:
"I speak but the truth, great chief of the Wyandots. We owe you much,and some day we may repay. Here the Bostonians crowd us hard, and theMohawks may yet fight by your side to save your own hunting grounds."
"It is true," said Timmendiquas. "There, too, we' must fight theAmericans."
"Victory was long with us here," said Thayendanegea, "but the rebelshave at last brought an army against us, and the king who persuadedus to make war upon the Americans adds nothing to the help that he hasgiven us already. Our white allies were the first to run at the Chemung,and now the Iroquois country, so large and so beautiful, is at the mercyof the invader. We perish. In all the valleys our towns lie in ashes.The American army will come to-morrow, and this, the great SenecaCastle, the last of our strongholds, will also sink under the flames.I know not how our people will live through the Winter that is yet tocome. Aieroski has turned his face from us."
But Timmendiquas spoke words of courage and hope.
"The Six Nations will regain their country," he said. "The greatLeague of the Ho-de-no-sau-nee, which has been victorious for so manygenerations, cannot be destroyed. All the tribes from here to theMississippi will help, and will press down upon the settlements. I willreturn to stir them anew, and the British posts will give us arms andammunition."
The light of defiance shone once more in the eyes of Thayendanegea.
"You raise my spirits again," he said. "We flee now, but we shall comeback again. The Ho-de-no-saunee can never submit. We will ravage alltheir settlements, and burn and destroy. We will make a wilderness wherethey have been. The king and his men will yet give us more help."
Part of his words came true, and the name of the raiding Thayendanegeawas long a terror, but the Iroquois, who had refused the requestedneutrality, had lost their Country forever, save such portions as thevictor in the end chose to offer to them.
"And now, as you and your Wyandots depart within the half hour, I giveyou a last farewell," said Thayendanegea.
The hands of the two great chiefs met in a clasp like that of the whiteman, and then Timmendiquas abruptly left the Council House, shutting thedoor behind him. Thayendanegea lingered a while at the window, andthe look of sadness returned to his face. Henry could read many of thethoughts that were passing through the Mohawk's proud mind.
Thayendanegea was thinking of his great journey to London, of thepower and magnificence that he had seen, of the pride and glory ofthe Iroquois, of the strong and numerous Tory faction led by SirJohn Johnson, the half brother of the children of Molly Brant,Thayendanegea's own sister, of the Butlers and all the others who hadsaid that the rebels would be easy to conquer. He knew better now,he had long known better, ever since that dreadful battle in the darkdefile of the Oriskany, when the Palatine Germans, with old Herkimer attheir head, beat the Tories, the English, and the Iroquois, and made thetaking of Burgoyne possible. The Indian chieftain was a statesman,and it may be that from this moment he saw that the cause of both theIroquois and their white allies was doomed. Presently Thayendanegea leftthe window, walking slowly toward the door. He paused there a moment ortwo, and then went out, closing it behind him, as Timmendiquas had done.The three did not speak until several minutes after he had gone.
"I don't believe," said Henry, "that either of them thinks, despitetheir brave words, that the Iroquois can ever win back again."
"Serves 'em right," said Tom Ross. "I remember what I saw at Wyoming."
"Whether they kin do it or not," said the practical Sol, "it's time forus to git out o' here, an' go back to our men."
"True words, Sol," said Henry, "and we'll go."
Examining first at the window and then through the door, openedslightly, they saw that the Iroquois village bad become quiet. Thepreparations for departure had probably ceased until morning. Forthstole the three, passing swiftly among the houses, going, with silentfoot toward the orchard. An old squaw, carrying a bundle from a house,saw them, looked sharply into their faces, and knew them to be white.She threw down her bundle with a fierce, shrill scream, and ran,repeating the scream as she ran.
Indians rushed out, and with them Braxton Wyatt and his band. Wyattcaught a glimpse of a tall figure, with two others, one on each side,running toward the orchard, and he knew it. Hate and the hope to captureor kill swelled afresh. He put a whistle to his lip and blew shrilly.It was a signal to his band, and they came from every point, leading thepursuit.
Henry heard the whistle, and he was quite sure that it was Wyatt who hadmade the sound. A single glance backward confirmed him. He knew Wyatt'sfigure as well as Wyatt knew his, and the dark mass with him wascertainly composed of his own men. The other Indians and Tories, inall likelihood, would turn back soon, and that fact would give him thechance he wished.
They were clear of the town now, running lightly through the orchard,and Shif'less Sol suggested that they enter the woods at once.
"We can soon dodge 'em thar in the dark," he said.
"We don't want to dodge 'em," said Henry.
The shiftless one was surprised, but when he glanced at Henry's face heunderstood.
"You want to lead 'em on an' to a fight?" he said.
Henry nodded.
"Glad you thought uv it," said Shif'less Sol.
They crossed the very corn field through which they had come, BraxtonWyatt and his band in full cry after them. Several shots were fired, butthe three kept too far ahead for any sort of marksmanship, and they werenot touched. When they finally entered the woods they curved a little,and then, keeping just far enough ahead to be within sight, but notclose enough for the bullets, Henry led them straight toward the camp ofthe riflemen. As he approached, he fired his own rifle, and utteredthe long shout of the forest runner. He shouted a second time, andnow Shif'less Sol and Tom Ross joined in the chorus, their great crypenetrating far through the woods.
Whether Braxton Wyatt or any of his mixed band of Indians and Toriessuspected the meaning of those great shouts Henry never knew, but thepursuit came on with undiminished speed. There was a good silver moonnow, shedding much light, and he saw Wyatt still in the van, withhis Tory lieutenant close behind, and after them red men and white,spreading out like a fan to inclose the fugitives in a trap. The bloodleaped in his veins. It was a tide of fierce joy. He had achieved bothof the purposes for which he had come. He had thoroughly scouted theSeneca Castle, and he was about to come to close quarters with BraxtonWyatt and the band which he had made such a terror through the valleys.
Shif'less Sol saw the face of his young comrade, and he was startled.He had never before beheld it so stern, so resolute, and so pitiless. Heseemed to remember as one single, fearful picture all the ruthless andterrible scenes of the last year. Henry uttered again that cry which wasat once a defiance and a signal, and from the forest ahea
d of him it wasanswered, signal for signal. The riflemen were coming, Paul, Long Jim,and Heemskerk at their head. They uttered a mighty cheer as they saw theflying three, and their ranks opened to receive them. From the Indiansand Tories came the long whoop of challenge, and every one in eitherband knew that the issue was now about to be settled by battle, andby battle alone. They used all the tactics of the forest. Both sidesinstantly dropped down among the trees and undergrowth, three or fourhundred yards apart, and for a few moments there was no sound save heavybreathing, heard only by those who lay close by. Not a single humanbeing would have been visible to an ordinary eye there in the moonlight,which tipped boughs and bushes with ghostly silver. Yet no area so smallever held a greater store of resolution and deadly animosity. On oneside were the riflemen, nearly every one of whom had slaughtered kin tomourn, often wives and little children, and on the other the Tories andIroquois, about to lose their country, and swayed by the utmost passionsof hate and revenge.
"Spread out," whispered Henry. "Don't give them a chance to flank us.You, Sol, take ten men and go to the right, and you, Heemskerk, take tenand go to the left."
"It is well," whispered Heemskerk. "You have a great head, MynheerHenry."
Each promptly obeyed, but the larger number of the riflemen remainedin the center, where Henry knelt, with Paul and Long Jim on one side ofhim, and Silent Tom on the other. When he thought that the two flankingparties had reached the right position, he uttered a low whistle, andback came two low whistles, signals that all was ready. Then the linebegan its slow advance, creeping forward from tree to tree and frombush to bush. Henry raised himself up a little, but he could not yet seeanything where the hostile force lay hidden. They went a little farther,and then all lay down again to look.
Tom Ross had not spoken a word, but none was more eager than he. He wasalmost flat upon the ground, and he had been pulling himself along by asort of muscular action of his whole body. Now he was so still thathe did not seem to breathe. Yet his eyes, uncommonly eager now, weresearching the thickets ahead. They rested at last on a spot of brownshowing through some bushes, and, raising his rifle, he fired with sureaim. The Iroquois uttered his death cry, sprang up convulsively, andthen fell back prone. Shots were fired in return, and a dozen riflemenreplied to them. The battle was joined.
They heard Braxton Wyatt's whistle, the challenging war cry of theIroquois, and then they fought in silence, save for the crack of therifles. The riflemen continued to advance in slow, creeping fashion,always pressing the enemy. Every time they caught sight of a hostileface or body they sent a bullet at it, and Wyatt's men did the same. Thetwo lines came closer, and all along each there were many sharp littlejets of fire and smoke. Some of the riflemen were wounded, and twowere slain, dying quietly and without interrupting their comrades, whocontinued to press the combat, Henry always leading in the center, andShif'less Sol and Heemskerk on the flanks.
This battle so strange, in which faces were seen only for a moment, andwhich was now without the sound of voices, continued without a moment'scessation in the dark forest. The fury of the combatants increased asthe time went on, and neither side was yet victorious. Closer and closercame the lines. Meanwhile dark clouds were piling in a bank in thesouthwest. Slow thunder rumbled far away, and the sky was cut atintervals by lightning. But the combatants did not notice the heralds ofstorm. Their attention was only for each other.
It seemed to Henry that emotions and impulses in him had culminated.Before him were the worst of all their foes, and his pitiless resolvewas not relaxed a particle. The thunder and the lightning, although hedid not notice them, seemed to act upon him as an incitement, and withlow words he continually urged those about him to push the battle.
Drops of rain fell, showing in the moonshine like beads of silver onboughs and twigs, but by and by the smoke from the rifle fire, presseddown by the heavy atmosphere, gathered among the trees, and the moon waspartly hidden. But file combat did not relax because of the obscurity.Wandering Indians, hearing the firing, came to Wyatt's relief, but,despite their aid, he was compelled to give ground. His were the mostdesperate and hardened men, red and white, in all the allied forces, butthey were faced by sharpshooters better than themselves. Many of themwere already killed, others were wounded, and, although Wyatt andColeman raged and strove to hold them, they began to give back, and sohard pressed were they that the Iroquois could not perform the sacredduty of carrying off their dead. No one sought to carry away the Tories,who lay with the rain, that had now begun to fall, beating upon them.
So much had the riflemen advanced that they came to the point wherebodies of their enemies lay. Again that fierce joy surged up in Henry'sheart. His friends and he were winning. But he wished to do more thanwin. This band, if left alone, would merely flee from the Seneca Castlebefore the advance of the army, and would still exist to ravage and slayelsewhere.
"Keep on, Tom! Keep on!" he cried to Ross and the others. "Never letthem rest!"
"We won't! We ain't dreamin' o' doin' sech a thing," replied theredoubtable one as he loaded and fired. "Thar, I got another!"
The Iroquois, yielding slowly at first, began now to give way faster.Some sought to dart away to right or left, and bury themselves in theforest, but they were caught by the flanking parties of Shif'less Soland Heemskerk, and driven back on the center. They could not retreatexcept straight on the town, and the riflemen followed them step forstep. The moan of the distant thunder went on, and the soft rain fell,but the deadly crackle of the rifles formed a sharper, insistent notethat claimed the whole attention of both combatants.
It was now the turn of the riflemen to receive help. Twenty or morescouts and others abroad in the forest were called by the rifle fire,and went at once into the battle. Then Wyatt was helped a second time bya band of Senecas and Mohawks, but, despite all the aid, they could notwithstand the riflemen. Wyatt, black with fury and despair, shouted tothem and sometimes cursed or even struck at them, but the retreatcould not be stopped. Men fell fast. Every one of the riflemen was asharpshooter, and few bullets missed.
Wyatt was driven out of the forest and into the very corn field throughwhich Henry had passed. Here the retreat became faster, and, with shoutsof triumph, the riflemen followed after. Wyatt lost some men in theflight through the field, but when he came to the orchard, having theadvantage of cover, he made another desperate stand.
But Shif'less Sol and Heemskerk took the band on the flanks, pouring ina destructive fire, and Wyatt, Coleman, and a fourth of his band, allthat survived, broke into a run for the town.
The riflemen uttered shout after shout of triumph, and it was impossibleto restrain their pursuit. Henry would have stopped here, knowing thedanger of following into the town, especially when the army was near atband with an irresistible force, but he could not stay them. He decidedthen that if they would charge it must be done with the utmost fire andspirit.
"On, men! On!" he cried. "Give them no chance to take cover."
Shif'less Sol and Heemskerk wheeled in with the flanking parties, andthe riflemen, a solid mass now, increased the speed of pursuit. Wyattand his men had no chance to turn and fire, or even to reload. Bulletsbeat upon them as they fled, and here perished nearly all of that savageband. Wyatt, Coleman, and only a half dozen made good the town, wherea portion of the Iroquois who had not yet fled received them. But theexultant riflemen did not stop even there. They were hot on the heels ofWyatt and the fugitives, and attacked at once the Iroquois who came totheir relief. So fierce was their rush that these new forces were drivenback at once. Braxton Wyatt, Coleman, and a dozen more, seeing no otherescape, fled to a large log house used as a granary, threw themselvesinto it, barred the doors heavily, and began to fire from the upperwindows, small openings usually closed with boards. Other Indians fromthe covert of house, tepee, or tree, fired upon the assailants, and afresh battle began in the town.
The riflemen, directed by their leaders, met the new situation promptly.Fired upon from all sides, at least twen
ty rushed into a house someforty yards from that of Braxton Wyatt. Others seized another house,while the rest remained outside, sheltered by little outhouses, trees,or inequalities of the earth, and maintained rapid sharpshooting inreply to the Iroquois in the town or to Braxton Wyatt's men in thehouse. Now the combat became fiercer than ever. The warriors utteredyells, and Wyatt's men in the house sent forth defiant shouts. Fromanother part of the town came shrill cries of old squaws, urging ontheir fighting men.
It was now about four o'clock in the morning. The thunder and lightninghad ceased, but the soft rain was still falling. The Indians had lightedfires some distance away. Several carried torches. Helped by these, and,used so long to the night, the combatants saw distinctly. The five laybehind a low embankment, and they paid their whole attention to the bighouse that sheltered Wyatt and his men. On the sides and behind theywere protected by Heemskerk and others, who faced a coming swarm.
"Keep low, Paul," said Henry, restraining his eager comrade. "Thosefellows in the house can shoot, and we don't want to lose you. There,didn't I tell you!"
A bullet fired from the window passed through the top of Paul's cap, butclipped only his hair. Before the flash from the window passed, Long Jimfired in return, and something fell back inside. Bullets came from otherwindows. Shif'less Sol fired, and a Seneca fell forward banging half outof the window, his naked body a glistening brown in the firelight. Buthe hung only a few seconds. Then he fell to the ground and lay still.The five crouched low again, waiting a new opportunity. Behind them, andon either side, they heard the crash of the new battle and challengingcries.
Braxton Wyatt, Coleman, four more Tories, and six Indians were stillalive in the strong log house. Two or three were wounded, but theyscarcely noticed it in the passion of conflict. The house was averitable fortress, and the renegade's hopes rose high as he heardthe rifle fire from different parts of the town. His own band had beenannihilated by the riflemen, led by Henry Ware, but he had a sanguinehope now that his enemies had rushed into a trap. The Iroquois wouldturn back and destroy them.
Wyatt and his comrades presented a repellent sight as they crouched inthe room and fired from the two little windows. His clothes and thoseof the white men had been torn by bushes and briars in their flight, andtheir faces had been raked, too, until they bled, but they had paidno attention to such wounds, and the blood was mingled with sweat andpowder smoke. The Indians, naked to the waist, daubed with vermilion,and streaked, too, with blood, crouched upon the floor, with themuz'zles of their rifles at the windows, seeking something human tokill. One and all, red and white, they were now raging savages, Therewas not one among them who did not have some foul murder of woman orchild to his credit.
Wyatt himself was mad for revenge. Every evil passion in him was up andleaping. His eyes, more like those of a wild animal than a human being,blazed out of a face, a mottled red and black. By the side of him thedark Tory, Coleman, was driven by impulses fully as fierce.
"To think of it!" exclaimed Wyatt. "He led us directly into a trap, thatWare! And here our band is destroyed! All the good men that we gatheredtogether, except these few, are killed!"
"But we may pay them back," said Coleman. "We were in their trap, butnow they are in ours! Listen to that firing and the war whoop! There areenough Iroquois yet in the town to kill every one of those rebels!"
"I hope so! I believe so!" exclaimed Wyatt. "Look out, Coleman! Ah, he'spinked you! That's the one they call Shif'less Sol, and he's the bestsharpshooter of them all except Ware!"
Coleman had leaned forward a little in his anxiety to secure a goodaim at something. He had disclosed only a little of his face, but in aninstant a bullet had seared his forehead like the flaming stroke of asword, passing on and burying itself in the wall. Fresh blood drippeddown over his face. He tore a strip from the inside of his coat, boundit about his head, and went on with the defense.
A Mohawk, frightfully painted, fired from the other window. Like a flashcame the return shot, and the Indian fell back in the room, stone dead,with a bullet through his bead.
"That was Ware himself," said Wyatt. "I told you he was the best shot ofthem all. I give him that credit. But they're all good. Look out!There goes another of our men! It was Ross who did that! I tell you, becareful! Be careful!"
It was an Onondaga who fell this time, and he lay with his head on thewindow sill until another Indian pulled him inside. A minute later aTory, who peeped guardedly for a shot, received a bullet through hishead, and sank down on the floor. A sort of terror spread among theothers. What could they do in the face of such terrible sharpshooting?It was uncanny, almost superhuman, and they looked stupidly at oneanother. Smoke from their own firing had gathered in the room, and itformed a ghastly veil about their faces. They heard the crash of therifles outside from every point, but no help came to them.
"We're bound to do something!" exclaimed Wyatt. "Here you, Jones, stickup the edge of your cap, and when they fire at it I'll put a bullet inthe man who pulls the trigger."
Jones thrust up his cap, but they knew too much out there to be takenin by an old trick. The cap remained unhurt, but when Jones in hiseagerness thrust it higher until he exposed his arm, his wrist wassmashed in an instant by a bullet, and he fell back with a howl of pain.Wyatt swore and bit his lips savagely. He and all of them began to fearthat they were in another and tighter trap, one from which there was noescape unless the Iroquois outside drove off the riflemen, and of thatthey could as yet see no sign. The sharpshooters held their place behindthe embankment and the little outhouse, and so little as a finger, even,at the windows became a sure mark for their terrible bullets. A Seneca,seeking a new trial for a shot, received a bullet through the shoulder,and a Tory who followed him in the effort was slain outright.
The light hitherto had been from the fires, but now the dawn was coming.Pale gray beams fell over the town, and then deepened into red andyellow. The beams reached the room where the beleaguered remains ofWyatt's band fought, but, mingling with the smoke, they gave a new andmore ghastly tint to the desperate faces.
"We've got to fight!" exclaimed Wyatt. "We can't sit here and be takenlike beasts in a trap! Suppose we unbar the doors below and make a rushfor it?"
Coleman shook his head. "Every one of us would be killed within twentyyards," he said.
"Then the Iroquois must come back," cried Wyatt. "Where is Joe Brant?Where is Timmendiquas, and where is that coward, Sir John Johnson? Willthey come?"
"They won't come," said Coleman.
They lay still awhile, listening to the firing in the town, which swayedhither and thither. The smoke in the room thinned somewhat, and thedaylight broadened and deepened. As a desperate resort they resumed firefrom the windows, but three more of their number were slain, and, bitterwith chagrin, they crouched once more on the floor out of range. Wyattlooked at the figures of the living and the dead. Savage despair tore athis heart again, and his hatred of those who bad done this increased.It was being served out to him and his band as they had served it outto many a defenseless family in the beautiful valleys of the border.Despite the sharpshooters, he took another look at the window, but keptso far back that there was no chance for a shot.
"Two of them are slipping away," he exclaimed. "They are Ross and theone they call Long Jim! I wish I dared a shot! Now they're gone!"
They lay again in silence for a time. There was still firing inthe town, and now and then they heard shouts. Wyatt looked at hislieutenant, and his lieutenant looked at him.
"Yours is the ugliest face I ever saw," said Wyatt.
"I can say the same of yours-as I can't see mine," said Coleman.
The two gazed once more at the hideous, streaked, and grimed faces ofeach other, and then laughed wildly. A wounded Seneca sitting with hisback against the wall began to chant a low, wailing death song.
"Shut up! Stop that infernal noise!" exclaimed Wyatt savagely.
The Seneca stared at him with fixed, glassy eyes and continued hischant. Wyatt turned
away, but that song was upon his nerves. He knewthat everything was lost. The main force of the Iroquois would notcome back to his help, and Henry Ware would triumph. He sat down on thefloor, and muttered fierce words under his breath.
"Hark!" suddenly exclaimed Coleman. "What is that?"
A low crackling sound came to their ears, and both recognized itinstantly. It was the sound of flames eating rapidly into wood, and ofthat wood was built the house they now held. Even as they listened theycould hear the flames leap and roar into new and larger life.
"This is, what those two, Ross and Hart, were up to!" exclaimed Wyatt."We're not only trapped, but we're to be burned alive in our trap!"
"Not I," said Coleman, "I'm goin' to make a rush for it."
"It's the only thing to be done," said Wyatt. "Come, all of you that areleft!"
The scanty survivors gathered around him, all but the wounded Seneca,who sat unmoved against the wall and continued to chant his death chant.Wyatt glanced at him, but said nothing. Then he and the others rusheddown the stairs.
The lower room was filled with smoke, and outside the flames wereroaring. They unbarred the door and sprang into the open air. A showerof bullets met them. The Tory, Coleman, uttered a choking cry, threw uphis arms, and fell back in the doorway. Braxton Wyatt seized one of thesmaller men, and, holding him a moment or two before him to receive thefire of his foe, dashed for the corner of the blazing building. The manwhom he held was slain, and his own shoulder was grazed twice, but hemade the corner. In an instant he put the burning building between himand his pursuers, and ran as he had never run before in all his life,deadly fear putting wings on his heels. As he ran he heard the dull boomof a cannon, and he knew that the American army was entering the SenecaCastle. Ahead of him he saw the last of the Indians fleeing for thewoods, and behind him the burning house crashed and fell in amid leapingflames and sparks in myriads. He alone had escaped from the house.
CHAPTER XXIV. DOWN THE OHIO
"We didn't get Wyatt," said Henry, "but we did pretty well,nevertheless."
"That's so," said Shif'less Sol. "Thar's nothin' left o' his band buthisself, an' I ain't feelin' any sorrow 'cause I helped to do it. Iguess we've saved the lives of a good many innocent people with thismorning's work."
"Never a doubt of it," said Henry, "and here's the army now finishing upthe task."
The soldiers were setting fire to the town in many places, and in twohours the great Seneca Castle was wholly destroyed. The five took nopart in this, but rested after their battles and labors. One or two hadbeen grazed by bullets, but the wounds were too trifling to be noticed.As they rested, they watched the fire, which was an immense one, fed byso much material. The blaze could be seen for many miles, and the ashesdrifted over all the forest beyond the fields.
All the while the Iroquois were fleeing through the wilderness to theBritish posts and the country beyond the lakes, whence their allies hadalready preceded them. The coals of Little Beard's Town smoldered fortwo or three days, and then the army turned back, retracing its stepsdown the Genesee.
Henry and his comrades felt that their work in the East was finished.Kentucky was calling to them. They had no doubt that Braxton Wyatt, nowthat his band was destroyed, would return there, and he would surelybe plotting more danger. It was their part to meet and defeat him. Theywished, too, to see again the valley, the river, and the village inwhich their people had made their home, and they wished yet more to lookupon the faces of these people.
They left the army, went southward with Heemskerk and some others of theriflemen, but at the Susquehanna parted with the gallant Dutchman andhis comrades.
"It is good to me to have known you, my brave friends," said Heemskerk,"and I say good-by with sorrow to you, Mynheer Henry; to you, MynheerPaul; to you, Mynheer Sol; to you, Mynheer Tom; and to you, MynheerJim."
He wrung their hands one by one, and then revolved swiftly away to hidehis emotion.
The five, rifles on their shoulders, started through the forest. Whenthey looked back they saw Cornelius Heemskerk waving his hand to them.They waved in return, and then disappeared in the forest. It was a longjourney to Pittsburgh, but they found it a pleasant one. It was yetdeep autumn on the Pennsylvania hills, and the forest was glowing withscarlet and gold. The air was the very wine of life, and when theyneeded game it was there to be shot. As the cold weather hung off, theydid not hurry, and they enjoyed the peace of the forest. They realizednow that after their vast labors, hardships, and dangers, they neededa great rest, and they took it. It was singular, and perhaps not sosingular, how their minds turned from battle, pursuit, and escape, togentle things. A little brook or fountain pleased them. They admired themagnificent colors of the foliage, and lingered over the views from thelow mountains. Doe and fawn fled from them, but without cause. At nightthey built splendid fires, and sat before them, while everyone in histurn told tales according to his nature or experience.
They bought at Pittsburgh a strong boat partly covered, and at the pointwhere the Allegheny and the Monongahela unite they set sail down theOhio. It was winter now, but in their stout caravel they did not care.They had ample supplies of all kinds, including ammunition, and theirhearts were light when they swung into the middle of the Ohio and movedwith its current.
"Now for a great voyage," said Paul, looking at the clear stream withsparkling eyes.
"I wonder what it will bring to us," said Shif'less Sol.
"We shall see," said Henry.
The Scouts of the Valley Page 23
