CHAPTER X
THE LETTER OF THE FOUR
The building into which Henry was taken was built of brick and roughstone, two stories in height, massive and very strong. The door whichclosed the entrance was of thick oak, with heavy crosspieces, and thetwo rows of small windows, one above the other, were fortified with ironbars, so close together that a man could not pass between. Henry's quickeye noticed it all, as they entered between the British guards at thedoor. The house inside was divided into several rooms, none containingmore than a rude pallet bed, a small pine table, a tin pitcher, a cup ofwater, and a pine stool.
Henry followed Holderness into one of these rooms, and promptly sat onthe pine stool by the window. Holderness looked at him with a mixture ofadmiration and pity.
"I'm sorry, old chap," he said, "that I have to lock you up here. Comenow, do be reasonable. These rebels are bound to lose, and, if you can'tjoin us, take a parole and go somewhere into Canada until all thetrouble is over."
Henry laughed lightly, but his heart warmed again toward youngHolderness who had come from some easy and sheltered spot in England,and who knew nothing of the wilderness and its hardships and terrors.
"Don't you be sorry for me," he said. "As for this room, it's betterthan anything that I've been used to for years. And so far as giving aparole and going into Canada, I wouldn't dream of such a thing. It wouldinterfere with my plans. I'm going back into the South to fight againstyour people and the Indians."
"But you're a prisoner!"
"For the present, yes, but I shall not remain so."
"You can't escape."
"I always escape. It's true I was never before in so strong a prison,but I shall go. I am willing to tell you, Lieutenant Holderness, becauseothers will tell you anyhow, that I have outside four very faithful andskillful friends. Nothing would induce them to desert me, and among uswe will secure my escape."
Into the look of mingled admiration and pity with which Holderness hadregarded Henry crept a touch of defiance.
"You're deucedly confident, old chap," he said. "You don't seem to thinkthat we amount to much here, and yet Colonel de Peyster has undoubtedlysaved you from the Indians. You should be grateful to him for thatmuch."
Henry laughed. This ingenuous youth now amused him.
"What makes you think it was Colonel de Peyster or any other English orTory officer who saved me from the Indians? Well, it wasn't. If ColonelBird and your other white friends had had their way when I was taken Ishould have been burned at the stake long before this. It was theWyandot chief, Timmendiquas, known in our language as White Lightning,who saved me."
The young officer's red face flushed deeper red.
"I knew that we had been charged with such cruelties," he said, "but Ihad hoped that they were not true. Now, I must leave you here, and, uponmy soul, I do not wish you any harm."
He went out and Henry felt a heavy key turn in the lock. A minute or twoafter he had gone the prisoner tried the door, and found that it wasmade of heavy oak, with strong crosspieces of the same material. Heexerted all his great strength, and, as he expected, he could not shakeit. Then he went back to the pine stool, which he drew up near a barredwindow, and sitting there watched as well as he could what was passingin the great court.
Henry had too much natural wisdom and experience to beat his headuselessly against bars. He would remain quiet, preserving the strengthof both body and mind, until the time for action came. Meanwhile he wasusing his eyes. He saw some of the chiefs pass, always accompanied bywhite officers. But he saw officers alone, and now and then women, bothred and white. He also saw the swarthy faces of woods runners, and amongthem, one whose face and figure were familiar, that same Pierre LouisLajeunais, whom he had met outside the fort.
Lajeunais carried his rifle on one shoulder and a pack of furs on theother. It was a heavy pack, probably beaver skins, but he moved easily,and Henry saw that he was very strong. Henry regarded him thoughtfully.This man had been friendly, he had access to the fort, and he might beinduced to give him aid. He did not see just then how Lajeunais could beof help to him, but he stored the idea in the back of his head, readyfor use if there should be occasion.
He presently saw Timmendiquas go by with Colonel de Peyster on one sideof him and Colonel Caldwell on the other. Henry smiled. Evidently theywere paying assiduous court to the Wyandot, and well they might. Withoutthe aid of the powerful Indian tribes the British at Detroit could donothing. In a few moments they were gone and then the twilight began tocome over the great western post. From his window Henry caught a view ofa distant reach of the broad river, glittering gold in the western sun.It came ultimately from one great lake and would empty into another.Paul's words returned to him. Those mysterious and mighty great lakes!would he live to see them with his comrades? Once in his earlycaptivity with the Indians he had wandered to the shores of the farthestand greatest of them all, and he remembered the awe with which he hadlooked upon the vast expanse of waters like the sea itself. He wished togo there again. Hundreds of stories and legends about the mighty chainhad come from the Indians and this view of the river that flowed fromthe upper group stirred again all his old curiosity. Then he rememberedhis position and with a low laugh resumed his seat on the pine stool.
Yet he watched the advance of the night. It seemed that the vastwilderness was coming down on Detroit and would blot it out completely,fortress, soldiers, village and all. In a little while the darknesscovered everything save a few flickering lights here and there. Henrysat at the window a while, gazing absently at the lights. But his mindwas away with his comrades, Paul, Shif'less Sol, Long Jim and SilentTom, the faithful four with whom he had passed through a world ofdangers. Where were they now? He had no doubt that they were nearDetroit. It was no idle boast that he made to Colonel de Peyster when hesaid they would help rescue him. He awaited the result with absoluteconfidence. He was in truth so lacking in nervous apprehension that whenhe lay down on the rude pallet he was asleep in two minutes.
He was awakened the next morning by Lieutenant Holderness who informedhim that in the daytime, for the present at least, he would be allowedthe liberty of the court. He could also eat outside.
"I'm grateful," said Henry. "I wish to thank Colonel de Peyster, orwhoever the man may be who has given me this much liberty."
"It is Colonel de Peyster, of course," said the ruddy one.
But Henry shrewdly suspected that his modicum of liberty was due toTimmendiquas, or rather the fear of de Peyster that he would offendTimmendiquas, and weaken the league, if he ill treated the prisoner.
Henry went outside and bathed his face at a water barrel. Then at theinvitation of Holderness he joined some soldiers and Canadian Frenchmenwho were cooking breakfast together beside a great fire. They made roomreadily at the lieutenant's request and Henry began to eat. He noticedacross the fire the brown face of Lajeunais, and he nodded in a friendlymanner. Lajeunais nodded in return and his black eyes twinkled. Henrythought that he saw some significance in the twinkle, but when he lookedagain Lajeunais was busy with his own breakfast. Then the incidentpassed out of his mind and he quickly found himself on good terms withboth soldiers and woods runners.
"You give your parole," said Lajeunais, "an' go North wiz me on thegreat huntin' an' trappin'. We will go North, North, North, beyon' theGreat Lakes, an' to other lakes almost as great, a thousan', twothousan' miles beyon' the home of white men to trap the silver fox, thepine marten an' the other furs which bring much gold. Ah, le bon Dieu,but it is gran'! an' you have ze great figure an' ze great strength tostan' ze great cold. Then come wiz me. Ze great lakes an' woods of zefar North is better zan to fret your life out here in ze prison. Youcome?"
He spoke entreatingly, but Henry smiled and replied in a tone full ofgood humor:
"It's a tempting offer, and it's very kind of you, Monsieur Lajeunais,but I cannot accept it. Neither am I going to fret my life out withinthese walls. I'm going to escape."
All the soldiers and woods r
unners laughed together except Lajeunais.Henry's calm assurance seemed a great joke to them, but the Frenchmanwatched him shrewdly. He was familiar with men of the woods, and itseemed to him that the great youth was not boasting, merely stating afact.
"Confidence is ze gran' thing," he said, "but these walls are high an'the ears are many."
While Henry sat there with the men, Colonel de Peyster passed. Thecommander was in an especially good humor that morning. He was convincedthat his negotiations with the Indian were going well. He had sworn toTimmendiquas again that if the Western tribes would fight for the King,the King would help them in return should their villages be attacked.More presents had been distributed judiciously among the chiefs. Therenegades also were at work. All of Girty's influence, and it was large,had been brought to bear in favor of the invasion, and it seemed to dePeyster that everything was now settled. He saw Henry sitting by thefire, gave him an ironical look, and, as he passed, sang clearly enoughfor the captive to hear a song of his own composition. He called it "TheDrill Sergeant," written to the tune of "The Happy Beggars," and thefirst verse ran:
Come, stand well to your order, Make not the least false motion; Eyes to the right, Thumb, muzzle height; Lads, you have the true notion. Here and there, Everywhere That the King's boys may be found, Fight and die, Be the cry, 'Ere in battle to give ground.
De Peyster was not only a soldier, but being born in New York and havinggrown up there he prided himself upon being a man of the world withaccomplishments literary and otherwise. The privilege of humming one'sown poetry is great and exalting, and the commander's spirits, alreadyhigh, rose yet higher. The destruction of Kentucky was not only going tobe accomplished, it was in fact accomplished already. He would extirpatethe impudent settlers west of the mountains, and, when the King'sauthority was reestablished everywhere and the time came for rewards, hewould ask and receive a great one.
As Colonel de Peyster walked toward the western gate a Tory soldier,with bruises and excitement upon his face, and a torn uniform upon hisbody, hurried toward him, accompanied by Lieutenant Holderness.
"This is Private Doran, sir," said Holderness, "and he has an importantletter for you."
Colonel de Peyster looked critically at Private Doran.
"You seem to have been manhandled," he said.
"I was set upon by a band of cutthroats," said Private Doran, the memoryof his wrongs becoming very bitter, "and they commanded me upon pain ofdeath to deliver this letter to you."
He held out a dirty sheet of folded paper.
Colonel de Peyster felt instinctively that it was something that wasgoing to be of great interest, and, before he opened it, he tapped itwith a thoughtful forefinger.
"Where did you get this?"
"About five o'clock this morning," replied Private Doran with hesitationand in an apologetic tone, "I was on guard on the western side of thevillage, near the woods. I was watching as well as I could with my eyesopen, and listening too, but I neither heard nor saw anything when fourmen suddenly threw themselves upon me. I fought, but how could Iovercome four? I suffered many bruises, as you can see. I thought theywere going to kill me, but they bound me, and then the youngest of 'emwrote this note which they told me to give to you, saying that theywould send a rifle bullet through my head some dark night, if Idisobeyed 'em, and I believe, sir, they would do it."
"Report to your sergeant," said de Peyster, and Private Doran gladlywent away. Then the commander opened the letter and as he read it hisface turned a deep red with anger. He read it over again to see that hemade no mistake, but the deep red of anger remained.
"What do you think of such impertinence as this, Holderness?" heexclaimed, and then he read:
"To Colonel Arent Schuyler de Peyster, Commander of the King's forces at Detroit:
"_Sir_:
"You have a prisoner in your fort, one Henry Ware, our comrade. We warn you that if he is subjected to any ill-treatment whatever, you and your men shall suffer punishment. This is not an idle threat. We are able to make good our promises.
"SOLOMON HYDE. "PAUL COTTER. "THOMAS ROSS. "JAMES HART."
"It's impertinence and mummery," repeated de Peyster, "I'll have thatman Doran tied to a cannon and lashed on his bare back!"
But Lieutenant Holderness was young and impressionable.
"It's impertinent, of course, Colonel," he said, "and it sounds wild,too, but I believe the signers of this paper mean what they say.Wouldn't it be a good idea to treat this prisoner well, and set such agood watch that we can capture his friends, too? They'll be hangingabout."
"I don't know," said de Peyster. "No, I think I have a better plan.Suppose we answer the letter of these fellows. I have had no intentionof treating Ware badly. I expected to exchange him or use him profitablyas a hostage, but I'll tell his friends that we are going to subject himto severe punishment, and then we'll draw them into our net, too."
"I've heard from Girty and Wyatt that they do wonderful things," saidHolderness. "Suppose they should rescue Ware after all?"
De Peyster laughed incredulously.
"Take him away from us!" he said. "Why, he's as safely caged here as ifhe were in a stone prison in England. Just to show him what I think oftheir threat I'll let him read this letter."
He approached Henry, who was still sitting by the fire and handed himthe sheet of paper.
"A letter from some friends of yours; the four most delightful humoriststhat these woods can furnish, I take it."
Henry thrilled with delight when he read the paper, but he did notpermit his face to show his joy. Like de Peyster he read it over twice,and then he handed it back to the Colonel.
"Well," said de Peyster, "what do you think of it?"
"It speaks for itself," replied Henry. "They mean exactly what theysay."
De Peyster chose to adopt a light, ironical tone.
"Do you mean to tell me, my good fellow," he asked, "that four beggarlyrebels, hiding for their lives in the wilderness, can punish me foranything that I may do to you?"
"I do not merely tell you so, I know it."
"Very well; it is a game, a play and we shall see what comes of it. I amgoing to send an answer to their letter, but I shall not tell you thenature of that answer, or what comes of it."
"I've no doubt that I'll learn in time," said Henry quietly.
The boy's calmness annoyed de Peyster, and he left him abruptly,followed by Holderness. While his temper was still warm, he wrote aletter to the four stating that Henry Ware would be delivered to thesavages for them to do with as they chose,--the implication beingtorture and death--and that unless the four gave Detroit a very wideberth they would soon be treated in the same way. Then he called themiserable Doran before him, and told him, when he took the late watchagain the next night, to hook the letter on the twig of a tree nearwhere he had been attacked before, and then watch and see what wouldoccur. Doran promised strictly to obey, and, since he was not calledupon to fight the terrific four, some of his apprehension disappeared.
Henry meanwhile had left the fire beside which he had eaten breakfast,and--though closely guarded--strolled about the great enclosure. He feltan uncommon lightness of heart. It was almost as if he were the jailerand not the jailed. That letter from his four comrades was a message tohim as well as to de Peyster. He knew that the soldiers of de Peysterand the Indians would make every effort to take them, but the woodsabout Detroit were dense and they would be on guard every second. Therewas no certainty, either, that all the French-Canadians were warmlyattached to the King's cause. Why should they be? Why should they fightso zealously for the country that had conquered them not many yearsbefore? He saw once more in the afternoon the square, strong figure ofLajeunais, crossing the court. When the Frenchman notice
d him he stoppedand came back, smiling and showing his great white teeth.
"Ah, mon brav," he said, "doesn't the great North yet call to you?"
"No," replied Henry, with an answering smile. "As I told you, I am goingto escape."
"You may," said Lajeunais, suddenly lowering his voice. "I met one ofyour friends in the forest. I cannot help, but I will not hinder. C'estune pitie that a garcon so gran' an' magnificent as you should pine an'die within prison walls."
Then he was gone before Henry could thank him. Toward nightfall he wasnotified that he must return to his prison and now he felt the fullweight of confinement when the heavy walls closed about him. ButHolderness came with the soldier who brought his supper and remained totalk. Henry saw that Holderness, not long from England, was lonesome anddid not like his work. It was true also that the young Englishman wasappalled by the wilderness, not in the sense of physical fear, but theendless dark forest filled him with the feeling of desolation as it hasmany another man. He had found in Henry, prisoner though he was, themost congenial soul, that he had yet met in the woods. As he lingeredwhile Henry ate the hard-tack and coffee, it was evident that he wantedto talk.
"These friends of yours," he said. "They promise wonderful things. Doyou really think they will rescue you, or did you merely say so toimpress Colonel de Peyster? I ask, as man to man, and forgetting for thetime that we are on opposing sides."
Henry liked him. Here, undoubtedly, was an honest and truthful heart. Hewas sorry that they were official enemies, but he was glad that it didnot keep them from being real friends.
"I meant it just as I said it," he replied. "My friends will keep theirwords. If I am harmed some of your people here at Detroit will suffer.This no doubt sounds amazing to you, but strange things occur out herein the woods."
"I'm very curious to see," said Holderness. "Colonel de Peyster has sentthem a message, telling them in effect that no attention will be paid totheir warning, and that he will do with you as he chooses."
"I am curious about it too," said Henry, "and if there is nothing inyour duty forbidding it, I ask you to let me know the result."
"I think it's likely that I can tell if there is anything to be told.Well, good night to you, Mr. Ware. I wish you a pleasant sleep."
"Thank you. I always sleep well."
The night was no exception to Henry's statement, but he was awake earlythe next morning. Colonel de Peyster also rose early, because he wishedto hear quickly from Private Doran. But Private Doran did not come atthe usual hour of reporting from duty, nor did he return the next hour,nor at any hour. De Peyster, furious with anger, sent a detachment whichfound his letter gone and another there. It said that as proof of theirpower they had taken his sentinel and they warned him again not to harmthe prisoner.
De Peyster raged for several reasons. It hurt his personal pride, and itinjured his prestige with the Indians. Timmendiquas was stilltroublesome. He was demanding further guarantees that the King'sofficers help the Indians with many men and with cannon, in case areturn attack should be delivered against their villages, and the WhiteLightning of the Wyandots was not a chief with whom one could trifle.
Timmendiquas had returned to the camp of his warriors outside the wallsand de Peyster at once visited him there. He found the chief in a finelodge of buffalo skin that the Wyandots had erected for him, polishingthe beautiful new rifle that had been presented to him as coming fromthe King. He looked up when he saw de Peyster enter, and his smileshowed the faintest trace of irony. But he laid aside the rifle andarose with the courtesy befitting a red chief who was about to receive awhite one.
"Be seated, Timmendiquas," said de Peyster with as gracious a manner ashe could summon. "I have come to consult with you about a matter ofimportance. It seems to me that you alone are of sufficient judgment andexperience to give me advice in this case."
Timmendiquas bowed gravely.
De Peyster then told him of the threatening letter from the four, and ofthe disappearance of Private Doran. The nostrils of Timmendiquasdilated.
"They are great warriors," he said, "but the white youth, Ware, whom youhold, is the greatest of them all. It was well done."
De Peyster frowned. In his praise of the woodsmen Timmendiquas seemed toreflect upon the skill of his own troops. But he persisted in his planto flatter and to appeal to the pride of Timmendiquas.
"White Lightning," he said, "you know the forest as the bird knows itsnest. What would you advise me to do?"
The soothing words appealed to Timmendiquas and he replied:
"I will send some of my warriors to trail them from the spot where yourman was taken, and do you send soldiers also to take them when they arefound. It is my business to make war upon these rangers from Kentucky,and I will help you all I can."
De Peyster, who felt that his honor was involved, left the lodge muchmore hopeful. It was intolerable that he, a soldier and a poet, shouldbe insulted in such a manner by four wild woodsmen, and he selected tengood men who, following two Wyandot trailers, would certainly avengehim.
Henry heard the details of Private Doran's misadventure from LieutenantHolderness, who did not fail to do it full justice.
"I should not have believed it," said the young Englishman, "if thefacts were not so clear. Private Doran is not a small man. He must weighat least one hundred and eighty, but he is gone as completely as if theearth had opened and swallowed him up."
Henry smiled and pretended to take it lightly. At heart he was hugelydelighted at this new proof of the prowess of his friends.
"I told you what they were," he said. "They are keeping their promises,are they not?"
"So far they have, but they will reach the end very soon. The ChiefTimmendiquas, the tall one, who thinks he is as good as the King ofEngland, has furnished two Wyandot trailers--they say the beggars cancome pretty near following the trail left by the flight of a birdthrough the air--and they will take a detachment of ten good men againstthese four friends of yours."
The prisoner's eyes sparkled. It did not seem to Holderness that he wasat all cast down as he should be.
"Shif'less Sol will lead them a glorious chase," said Henry. "TheWyandots are fine trailers, but they are no better than he, maybe not asgood, and no detachment of heavy-footed soldiers can surprise him in thewoods."
"But if overtaken they will certainly be defeated. All of them will beslain or captured," said Holderness. "There can be no doubt of it."
"It is to be seen," said Henry, "and we must wait patiently for theresult."
Henry was allowed to go in the court again that day. He knew that stronginfluences were working for his good treatment, and with theimpossibility of escape in broad daylight under scores of watchful eyesthere was no reason why he should be confined in the big jail. He hopedto see Timmendiquas there, but the chief still stayed outside with hisWyandot warriors. Instead he met another who was not so welcome. As heturned a corner of a large log building he came face to face withBraxton Wyatt. Henry turned abruptly away, indicating that he wouldavoid the young renegade as he would a snake. But Wyatt called to him:
"Henry, I've got a few words to say to you. You know that you and I wereboys together down there in Wareville, and if I've done you any harm itseems that the score is about even between us. I've helped to make waron the rebels in the East. I had gathered together a fine band there. Iwas leader of it and a man of importance, but that band was destroyedand you were the chief instrument of its destruction."
"Why do you say all this?" asked Henry shortly.
"To show you that I am in the right, and that I am now a Loyalist notfor profit, but in face of the fact that I suffer for it."
Henry looked at him in amazement. Why should Braxton Wyatt say thesethings to him whom he hated most? Then he suddenly knew the reason. Deepdown in the heart of everyone, no matter how perverted he may become, issome desire for the good opinion of others. The renegade was seeking tojustify himself in the eyes of the youth who had been for a while achildhood
comrade. He felt a sort of pity, but he knew that nothing goodcould come of any further talk between Braxton Wyatt and himself.
"Of course you are entitled to your opinion, Braxton," he said, "but itcan never be mine. Your hands are red with the blood of your people, ourpeople, and there can never be any friendship between us."
He saw the angry light coming into Wyatt's eyes, and he turned away. Hefelt that under the circumstances he could not quarrel with him, and heknew that if they were in the forest again they would be as bitterenemies as ever. It was a relief to him to meet Holderness and anotheryoung officer, Desmond, also a recent arrival from England, and quite asignorant as Holderness of wilderness ways and warfare. He found themfair and generous opponents and, in his heart, he absolved them fromblame for the terrible consequences following upon the British alliancewith the Indians.
They took Henry on the entire inside circuit of the walls, and he, aswell as they, was specially interested in the outlook over the river. Aplatform four feet wide was built against the palisade the same distancefrom the top. It was reached at intervals by flights of narrow steps,and here in case of attack the riflemen would crouch and fire from theirhidden breastwork. Close by and under the high bank flowed the river, abroad, deep stream, bearing the discharge from those mighty inland seas,the upper chain of the Great Lakes. The current of the river, deep, blueand placid and the forests beyond, massive, dark, and green, made Henryrealize how bitter it was to be a prisoner. Here separated from him byonly a few feet was freedom, the great forest with its sparkling watersthat he loved. In spite of himself, he sighed, and both Holderness andDesmond, understanding, were silent.
Near them was a sort of trestle work that ran out toward the river,although it did not reach it by many feet.
"What is that?" asked Henry, as he looked at it curiously.
"It was intended to be a pier or wharf for loading or unloading boats,"replied Holderness. "They tell me that Colonel Hamilton started it, inthe belief that it would be useful in an emergency, but when Colonel dePeyster succeeded to the command he stopped the work there, thinkingthat it might be of as much service to an enemy as to a friend."
Henry took little more notice of the unfinished pier, and they descendedfrom the platform to the ground, their attention being attracted by anoise at the most distant gate. When they took a second look at thecause of the tumult, they hurried forward.