CHAPTER XIV
THE BATTLE OF JOHNSTOWN
Two weeks of maddening inactivity followed the arrival at the YellowTavern of an express from Colonel Willett, carrying orders for me toremain at Oswaya until further command, bury all apples, pit the corn,and mill what buckwheat the settlers could spare as a deposit for thearmy.
Not a word since that time had I heard from Johnstown, although it wasrumored in the settlement that the Rangers had taken the field inscouts of five, covering the frontier to get into touch with thelong-expected forces that might come from Niagara under Ross and WalterButler, or from the east under St. Leger and Sir John, or even perhapsunder Haldimand.
Never had I known such hot impatience, such increasing anxiety; neverhad I felt so bitterly that the last chance was vanishing for me tostrike an honest blow in a struggle wherein I, hitherto inert, hadfigured so meanly, so ingloriously.
To turn farmer clodhopper now was heart-breaking. Yet all I could dowas to organize a sort of home guard there, detail a different yokelevery day to watch the road to Varicks, five miles below, by which theenemy must arrive if they marched with artillery and wagons, as it wasrumored they would. At night I placed a sentinel by the mill to guardagainst scalping parties, and another on the hill to watch the West andSouth. Meager defenses, one might say, and even the tavern wasunstockaded, and protected only by loops and oaken shutters; but everyman and woman was demanded for the harvest; even the children staggeredoff to the threshing-barns, laden with sheaves of red-stemmedbuckwheat, or rolled pumpkins and squashes to the wagons, or shook downcrimson apples for the men to cart away and bury.
The little Norris boy labored with the others--a thin, sallow child,heavy-eyed and silent. He had recovered somewhat from the shock of thetragedy he had witnessed, and strove to do what was asked of him, butwhen spoken to, seemed confused and slow of comprehension; and thetears were ever starting or smeared over his freckled face from cheekto chin.
Being an officer, the poor, heavy-witted folk looked to me for thecounsel and wisdom my inexperience lacked. All I could do for them wasto arrange their retreat to the tavern at the first signal of danger,and to urge that the women and children sleep there at night. My advicewas only partly followed. As the golden October days passed, with nofresh alarm from the Sacandaga, their apathetic fatalism turned to atimid confidence that their homes and lands might yet be spared.
Wemple sold his buckwheat on promise of pay in paper dollars, and wemilled it and barreled it, and made a deposit in Klein's sugar-bush.
Distant neighbors came a-horseback to the mill with news fromneighbors, still more distant, that Sir John had retreated northwardfrom the Sacandaga, toward Edward; that the Tories threatened Ballston;that Indians had been seen near Galway; that the garrison atSchenectady had been warned to take the field against St. Leger; thaton Champlain General Haldimand had gathered a great fleet, and hismaneuvers were a mystery to the scouts watching him. But no rumors werecarried to us concerning Ross and Butler, except that strange vesselshad been seen leaving Bucks Island.
The tension, the wearing anxiety, and harrowing chagrin that I had beenleft here forgotten, waxed to a fever that drove me all day restlesslyfrom field to field, from house to barn, and back to the tavern, to sitwatching the road for sign of a messenger to set me free of thisdreary, hopeless place.
And on one bright, cold morning in late October, when to keep warm onemust seek the sunny lee of the tavern, I sat brooding, watching thecrimson maple-leaves falling from the forest in showers. Frost hadcome, silvering the stiffened earth, and patches of it still lingeredin shady places. Oaks were brown, elms yellow; birches had shed theirleaves; and already the forest stretched bluish and misty, set withflecks of scarlet maple and the darker patches of the pine.
On that early morning, just after sunrise, I sensed a hint of snow inthe wind that blew out of the purple north; and the premonitionsickened me, for it meant the campaign ended.
In an ugly and sullen mood I sat glowering at the blackened weeds cutby the frost, when, hearing the sound of horses' feet on the hill, Irose and stood on tiptoe to see who might be coming at such a pace.
People ran out to the rear to look; nearer and nearer came the dull,battering gallop, then a rider rushed into view, leaning far forward,waving his arm; and a far cry sounded: "Express, ho! News for CaptainRenault!"
An express! I sprang to the edge of the road as the horse thundered by;and the red-faced rider, plastered with mud, twisted in his saddle andhurled a packet at me, shouting: "Butler is in the Valley! Turn out!Turn out!" sweeping past in a whirlwind of dust and flying stones.
As I caught up the packet from the grass Farris ran out and fired hismusket, then set the conch-horn to his mouth and sent a long-drawn,melancholy warning booming through the forest.
"Close up those shutters!" I said, "and fill the water-casks!"
Men came running from barn and mill, shouting for the women andchildren; men ran to the hill to look for signs of the enemy, to drivein cattle, to close and latch the doors of their wretched dwellings, asthough bolt and bar could keep out the red fury now at last unloosened.
I saw a woman, to whose ragged skirts three children clung, toilingacross a stump-field, staggering under a flour-sack full of humblehousehold goods. One of the babies carried a gray kitten clasped to herbreast.
Pell-mell into the tavern they hurried, white-faced, panting, pushingtheir terrified children into dark corners and under tables.
"Tell that woman to let her cow go!" I shouted, as a frightened heiferdashed up the road, followed by its owner, jerked almost off her feetby the tether-rope. Old Wemple seized the distracted woman by theshoulder and dragged her back to the tavern, she weeping and turningher head at every step.
In the midst of this howling hubbub I ripped open my despatches andread:
"JOHNSTOWN, October 25, 1781.
"CAPT. RENAULT:
"_Sir_--Pursuant to urgent orders this instant arrived by express from Col. Willett at Fort Rensselaer, I have the honor to inform you that Major Ross and Capt. Walter Butler have unexpectedly struck the Valley at Warren's Bush with the following forces:
Eighth Regiment 25 Thirty-fourth Regiment 100 Eighty-fourth Highlanders Regiment 36 Sir John's Royal Greens Regiment 120 Yagers Regiment 12 Butler's Rangers 150 Indians 130 Renegades 40
With bat-horses, baggage-wagons, and camp-trains, including forces amounting to a thousand rifles.
"What portion of the invading army this flying column may represent is at present unknown to me.
"The militia call is out; expresses are riding the county to warn every post, settlement, and blockhouse; Colonel Willett, with part of the garrison at Fort Rensselaer, is marching on Fort Hunter to join his forces with your Rangers, picking up the scouts on his way, and expects to strike Butler at the ford below Tribes Hill.
"You will gather from this, sir, that Johnstown is gravely menaced, and no garrison left except a few militia. Indeed, our situation must shortly be deplorable if Colonel Willett does not deliver battle at the ford.
"Therefore, if you can start at once and pick up a post of your riflemen at Broadalbin Bush, it may help us to hold the jail here until some aid arrives from Colonel Willett.
"The town is panic-stricken. All last night the people stood on the lawn by Johnson Hall and watched the red glare in the sky where the enemy were burning the Valley. Massacre, the torch, and hatchet seem already at our thresholds. However, the event remains with God. I shall hold the jail to the last.
"Your ob't serv't,
"ROWLEY, _Major Com'nd'g_."
For one dreadful moment every drop of blood seemed to leave my body. Isank into a chair, staring into the sunshine, seeing nothing. Then thepale
face of Elsin Grey took shape before me, gazing at me sorrowfully;and I sprang up, shuddering, and looking about me. What in God's namewas I to do? Go to her and leave these women and babies?--leave thesedull-witted men to defend themselves? Why not? Every nerve in metightened with terror at her danger, every heart-beat respondedpassionately to the appeal. Yet how could I go, with these white-facedwomen watching me in helpless confidence; with these frightenedchildren gathering around me, looking up into my face, reachingtrustfully for my clenched hands?
In an agony of indecision I turned to the door and gazed down the road,an instant only, then leaped back and slammed the great oaken portal,shooting the bars.
Destiny had decided; Fate had cut the knot!
"Every man to a loop!" I called out steadily. "Wemple, take your sonsto the east room; Klein, you and Farris and Klock take the west andsouth; Warren, look out for the west. They may try to fire the woodenwater-leader. Mrs. Farris, see that the tubs of water are ready; andyou, Mrs. Warren, take the women and children to the cellar and beready to dip up buckets of water from the cistern."
Silence; a trample on the stairs as the men ran to their posts; not acry, not a whimper from the children.
I climbed the stairs, and lying at full length beside the loop, cockedmy rifle, and peered out. Almost instantly I saw a man dodge intoKlein's house too quickly for me to fire. Presently the interior of thehouse reddened behind the windows; a thin haze of smoke appeared as bymagic, hanging like a curtain above the roof. Then, with a cracklingroar that came plainly to my ears, the barn behind the house was buriedin flame, seeming almost to blow up in one huge puff of bluish-whitesmoke.
I heard Wemple's ancient firelock explode, followed by the crack of hissons' rifles, and I saw an Indian running across the pasture.
Klein's house was now curtained with blackish smoke; Wemple's, too, hadbegun to burn, the roof all tufted with clear little flames, thatseemed to give out no smoke in the sunshine. An Indian darted acrossthe door-yard, and leaped into the road, but at the stunning report ofWarren's rifle he stopped, dropping his gun, and slowly sank, facedownward, in the dust.
Then I heard the barking scalp-yelp break out, and a storm of bulletsstruck the tavern, leaving along the forest's edge a low wall of brownvapor, which lingered as though glued to the herbage; and through it,red as candle-flames in fog, the spirting flicker of the rifles played,and the old tavern rang with leaden hail. Suddenly the fusilladeceased. Far away I heard a ranger's whistle calling, callingpersistently.
Wemple's barn was now burning fiercely; the mill, too, had caught fire,and an ominous ruddy glare behind Warren's windows brightened andbrightened.
Behind me, and on either side of me, the frenzied farmers were firing,maddened by the sight of the destruction, until I was obliged to runamong the men and shake them, warning them to spare their powder untilthere was something besides the forest to shoot at. The interior of thetavern was thick with powder-smoke. I heard people coughing all aroundme.
And now, out of rifle-range, I caught my first good view of themarauders passing along the red stubble-fields north of Warren'sbarn--some hundred Indians and Tories, marching in columns of fours,rifles atrail, south by east. To my astonishment, instead of facing,they swung around us on a dog-trot, still out of range, pressingsteadily forward across the rising ground. Then suddenly Icomprehended. They cared nothing for Oswaya when there was primekilling and plunder a-plenty to be had in the Valley. They were headedfor Johnstown, where the vultures were already gathering.
Old Wemple had run down-stairs and flung open the door to watch them. Ifollowed, rifle in hand, and we sped hotfoot across the stump-lot andout upon the hill. Surely enough, there they were in the distance,hastening away to the southward at a long, swinging lope, like a packof timber-wolves jogging to a kill.
"Hold the tavern to-night and then strike out for Saratoga with allyour people," I said hurriedly. "They're gone, and I mean to followthem."
"Be ye goin', sir?" quavered the old man. He turned to gaze at theblazing settlement below, tears running down his cheeks.
"Oh, Lord! Thy will be done--I guess," he said.
Farris, Warren, and Klock came up on the run. I pointed at the distantforest, into which the column was disappearing.
"Keep the tavern to-night," I said hoarsely; "there may be a skulkingscalp-hunter or two prowling about until morning, but they'll be goneby sunrise. Good-by, lads!"
One by one they extended their powder-blackened, labor-torn hands, thenturned away in silence toward the conflagration below, to face winterin the wilderness without a roof.
Rifle at trail, teeth set, I descended the hill, dodging among theblackened stumps, and entered the woods on a steady run. I had no needof a path save for comfort in the going, for this region was perfectlyfamiliar to me from the Sacandaga to the Kennyetto, and from MayfieldCreek to the Cayadutta--familiar as Broadway, from the Battery toVauxhall. No Indian knew it better, nor could journey by short cutsfaster than could I. For this was my own country, and I trusted it. Thedistance was five good miles to the now-abandoned settlement ofBroadalbin, or Fonda's Bush, which some still call it, and my road laysouth, straight as the bee flies, after I had once crossed the trail ofthe Oswaya raiders.
I crossed it where I expected to, in a soft and marshy glade,unblackened by the frost, where blue flowers tufted the swale, and aclear spring soaked the moss and trickled into a little stream which, Iremembered, was ever swarming with tiny troutlings. Here I found theprint of Cayuga and Mohawk moccasins and white man's boots a-plenty;and, for one fierce instant, burned to pick up the raw trail, hangingon their rear to drive one righteous bullet into them when chance gaveme an opportunity. But the impulse fled as it came. Sick at heart Ipressed forward once more, going at a steady wolf-trot; and sosilently, so noiselessly, that twice I routed deer from their hemlockbeds, and once came plump on a tree-cat that puffed up into fury andbacked off spitting and growling, eyes like green flames, and everyhair on end.
Tree after tree I passed, familiar to me in happier years--here an oakfrom which, a hundred yards due west, one might find sulphurwater--there a pine, marking a clean mile from the Kennyetto at itsnearest curve, yonder a birch-bordered gulley, haunted of partridge andwoodcock--all these I noted, scarcely seeing them at all, and ploddedon and on until, far away through the trees, I heard the Kennyettoroaring in its gorge, like the wind at Adriutha.
A stump-field, sadly overgrown with choke-cherry, sumach, andrabbit-brier, warned me that I was within rifle-hail of the Rangers'post at Broadalbin. I swung to the west, then south, then west again,passing the ruins of the little settlement--a charred beam here, anempty cellar there, yonder a broken well-sweep, until I came to theridge above the swamp, where I must turn east and ford the stream,under the rifles of the post.
There stood the chimney of what had once been my father's house--thenew one, "burned by mistake," ere it had been completed.
I gave it one sullen glance; looked around me, saw but heaps of brick,mortar, and ashes, where barns, smoke-houses, granaries, and stableshad stood. The cellar of my old home was almost choked with weeds;slender young saplings had already sprouted among the foundation-stones.
Passing the orchard, I saw the trees under which I had played as achild, now all shaggy and unpruned, tufted thick with suckers, andringed with heaps of small rotting apples, lying in the grass as theyhad fallen. With a whirring, thunderous roar, a brood of crested grouserose from the orchard as I ran on, startling me, almost unnerving me.The next moment I was at the shallow water's edge, shouting across at ablockhouse of logs; and a Ranger rose up and waved his furry cap at me,beckoning me to cross, and calling to me by name.
"Is that you, Dave Elerson?" I shouted.
"Yes, sir. Is there bad news?"
"Butler is in the Valley!" I answered, and waded into the cold, browncurrent, ankle-deep in golden bottom-sands. Breathless, dripping thrumstrailing streams of water after me, I toiled up the bank and stoodpanting, leaning against the
log hut.
"Where is the post?" I breathed.
"Out, sir, since last night."
"Which way?" I groaned.
"Johnstown way, Mr. Renault. The Weasel, Tim Murphy, and Nick Stonerwas a-smellin' after moccasin-prints on the Mayfield trail. About sunupthey made smoke-signals at me that they was movin' Kingsboro way on araw trail."
He brought me his tin cup full of rum and water. I drank a smallportion of it, then rinsed throat and mouth, still standing.
"Butler and Ross, with a thousand rifles and baggage-wagons, are makingfor the Tribes Hill ford," I said. "A hundred Cayugas, Mohawks, andTories burned Oswaya just after sunrise, and are this moment pushing onto Johnstown. We've got to get there before them, Elerson."
"Yes, sir," he said simply, glancing at the flint in his rifle.
"Is there any chance of our picking up the scout?"
"If we don't, it's a dead scout for sure," he returned gravely. "TimMurphy wasn't lookin' for scalpin' parties from the north."
I handed him his cup, tightened belt and breast-straps, trailed rifle,and struck the trail at a jog; and behind me trotted David Elerson,famed in ballad and story, which he could not read--nor could TimMurphy, either, for that matter, whose learning lay in thingsunwritten, and whose eloquence flashed from the steel lips of a riflethat never spoke in vain.
Like ice-chilled wine the sweet, keen mountain air blew in our faces,filtering throat and nostrils as we moved; the rain that the frost hadpromised was still far away--perhaps not rain at all, but snow.
On we pressed, first breath gone, second breath steady; and only forthe sickening foreboding that almost unnerved me when I thought ofElsin, I should not have suffered from the strain.
Somewhere to the west, hastening on parallel to our path, was strungout that pack of raiding bloodhounds; farther south, perhaps at thisvery instant entering Johnstown, moved the marauders from the north. Agroan burst from my dry lips.
Slowing to a walk we began to climb, shoulder to shoulder, ascendingthe dry bed of a torrent fairly alive with partridges.
"Winter's comin' almighty fast; them birds is a-packin' and a-buddin'already. Down to the Bush I see them peckin' the windfall apples inyour old orchard."
I scarcely heard him, but, as he calmly gossiped on, hour after hour, afeeling of dull surprise grew in me that at such a time a man couldnote and discuss such trifles. Ah, but he had no sweetheart there inthe threatened town, menaced by death in its most dreadful shape.
"Are the women in the jail?" I asked, my voice broken by spasmodicbreathing as we toiled onward.
"I guess they are, sir--leastways Jack Mount was detailed there tohandle the milishy." And, after a pause, gravely and gently: "Is yourlady there, sir?"
"Yes--God help her!"
He said nothing; there was nothing of comfort for any man to say. Ilooked up at the sun.
"It's close to noontide, sir," said Elerson. "We'll make Johnstownwithin the half-hour. Shall we swing round by the Hall and keep cover,or chance it by the road to Jimmy Burke's?"
"What about the scout?" I asked miserably.
He shook his head, and over his solemn eyes a shadow passed.
"Mayhap," he muttered, "Tim Murphy's luck will hold, sir. He's beenfired at by a hundred of their best marksmen; he's been in every bloodyscrape, assault, ambush, retreat, 'twixt Edward and Cherry Valley, andnever a single bullet-scratch. We may find him in Johnstown yet."
He swerved to the right: "With your leave, Captain Renault, we'llfringe the timber here. Look, sir! Yonder stands the Hall against thesky!"
We were in Johnstown. There, across Sir William's tree-borderedpastures and rolling stubble-fields, stood the baronial hall. Sunlightsparkled on the windows. I saw the lilacs, the bare-limbed locusts, theorchards, still brilliant with scarlet and yellow fruit, the long stonewall and hedge fence, the lawns intensely green.
"It is deserted," I said in a low voice.
"Hark!" breathed Elerson, ear to the wind. After a moment I heard adeadened report from the direction of the village, then another andanother; and, spite of the adverse breeze, a quavering, gentle,sustained sound, scarce more than a vibration, that hung persistentlyin the air.
"By God!" gasped Elerson, "it's the bell at the jail! The enemy arehere! Pull foot, sir! Our time has come!"
Down the slope we ran, headed straight for the village. Gunshots nowsounded distinctly from the direction of the Court-House; and aroundus, throughout the whole country, guns popped at intervals, sometimes asingle distant report, then a quick succession of shots, like huntersshooting partridges; but we heard as yet no volley-firing.
"Tories and scalpers harrying the outlying farms," breathed Elerson."Look sharp, sir! We're close to the village, and it's full o' Tories."
Right ahead of us stood a white house; and, as we crossed the hay-fieldbehind it, a man came to the back door, leveled a musket, anddeliberately shot at us. Instantly, and before he could spring back,Elerson threw up his rifle and fired, knocking the man headlong throughthe doorway.
"The impudent son of a slut!" he muttered to himself, coolly reloading."Count one more Tory in hell, Davy, lad!"
Priming, his restless eyes searched the road-hedge ahead, then, readyonce more, we broke into a trot, scrambled through the fence, andstarted down the road, which had already become a village street. Itwas fairly swarming with men running and dodging about.
The first thing I saw clearly was a dead woman lying across ahorse-block. Then I saw a constable named Hugh McMonts running down thestreet, chased closely by two Indians and a soldier wearing a greenuniform. They caught him as we fired, and murdered him in a doorwaywith hatchet and gun-stock, spattering everything with the poorwretch's brains.
Our impulsive and useless shots had instantly drawn the fire of threered-coated soldiers; and, as the big bullets whistled around us,Elerson grasped my arm, pulled me back, and darted behind a barn.Through a garden we ran, not stopping to load, through anotherbarnyard, scattering the chickens into frantic flight, then out along astony way, our ears ringing with the harsh din of the jail bell.
"There's the jail; run for it!" panted Elerson, as we came in sight ofthe solid stone structure, rising behind its palisades on the highground.
I sprang across the road and up the slope, battering at the barricadedpalings with my rifle-stock, while Elerson ran around the defensesbawling for admittance.
"Hurry, Elerson!" I cried, hammering madly for entrance; "here come theenemy's baggage-wagons up the street!"
"Jack Mount! Jack Mount! Let us in, ye crazy loon!" shouted Elerson.
Somebody began to unbolt the heavy slab gate; it creaked and swung justwide enough for a man to squeeze through. I shoved Elerson inside andfollowed, pushing into a mob of scared militia and panic-strickencitizens toward a huge buckskinned figure at a stockade loophole on theleft.
"Jack Mount!" I called, "where are the women? Are they safe?"
He looked around at me, nodded in a dazed and hesitating manner, thenwheeled quick as a flash, and fired through the slit in the logs.
I crawled up to the epaulment and peered down into the dusty street. Itwas choked with the enemy's baggage-wagons, now thrown into terribleconfusion by the shot from Mount's rifle. Horses reared, backed,swerved, swung around, and broke into a terrified gallop; teamstersswore and lashed at their maddened animals, and some batmen, carrying adead or wounded teamster, flung their limp burden into a wagon, and,seizing the horses' bits, urged them up the hill in a torrent of dust.
I fumbled for my ranger's whistle, set it to my lips, and blew the"Cease firing!"
"Let them alone!" I shouted angrily at Mount. "Have you no better workthan to waste powder on a parcel of frightened clodhoppers? Send thosemilitiamen to their posts! Two to a loop, yonder! Lively, lads; and seethat you fire at nothing except Indians and soldiers. Jack, come uphere!"
The big rifleman mounted the ladder and leaped to the rifle-platform,which quivered beneath his weight.
"I thoug
ht I'd best sting them once," he muttered. "Their main forcehas circled the town westward toward the Hall. Lord, sir, it was a badsurprise they gave us, for we understood that Willett held them atTribes Hill!"
I caught his arm in a grip of iron, striving to speak, shaking him tosilence.
"Where--where is Miss Grey?" I said hoarsely. "You say the women aresafe, do you not?"
"Mr. Renault--sir--" he stammered, "I have just arrived at the jail--Ihave not seen your wife."
My hand fell from his arm; his appalled face whitened.
"Last night, sir," he muttered, "she was at the Hall, watching theflames in the sky where Butler was burning the Valley. I saw her therein a crowd of townsfolk, women, children--the whole town was on thelawn there----"
He wiped his clammy face and moistened his lips; above us, in thewooden tower, the clamor of the bell never ceased.
"She spoke to me, asking for news of you. I--I had no news of you totell her. Then an officer--Captain Little--fell a-bawling for theRangers to fall in, and Billy Laird, Jack Shew, Sammons, and me--we hadto go. So I fell in, sir; and the last I saw she was standing there andlooking at the reddening sky----"
Blindly, almost staggering, I pushed past him, stumbling down theladder, across the yard, and into the lower corridor of the jail. Therewere women a-plenty there; some clung to my arm, imploring news; somecalled out to me, asking for husband or son. I looked blankly into faceafter face, all strangers; I mounted the stairs, pressing through thetrembling throng, searching every whitewashed corridor, every room;then to the cellar, where the frightened children huddled, then outagain, breaking into a run, hastening from blockhouse to blockhouse,the iron voice of the bell maddening me!
"Captain Renault! Captain Renault!" called out a militiaman, as Iturned from the log rampart.
The man came hastening toward me, firelock trailing, pack and sackbouncing and flopping.
"My wife has news of your lady," he said, pointing to a slim, paleyoung woman who stood in the doorway, a shawl over her wind-blown hair.
I turned as she advanced, looking me earnestly in the face.
"Your lady was in the fort late last night, sir," she began. A fit ofcoughing choked her; overhead the dreadful clangor of the bell dinnedand dinned.
Dumb, stunned, I waited while she fumbled in her soiled apron, and atlast drew out a crumpled letter.
"I'll tell you what I know," she said weakly. "We had been to the Hall;the sky was all afire. My little boy grew frightened, and she--yoursweet lady--she lifted him and carried him for me--I was that sick andweak from fright, sir----"
A fit of coughing shook her. She handed me the letter, unable tocontinue.
And there, brain reeling, ears stunned by the iron din of the bellwhich had never ceased, I read her last words to me:
"Carus, my darling, I don't know where you are. Please God, you are not at Oswaya, where they tell me the Indians have appeared above Varicks. Dearest lad, your Oneida came with your letter. I could not reply, for there were no expresses to go to you. Colonel Willett had news of the enemy toward Fort Hunter, and marched the next day. We hoped he might head them, but last night there was an alarm, and we all went out into the street. People were hastening to the Hall, and I went, too, being anxious, now that you are out there alone somewhere in the darkness.
"Oh, Carus, the sky was all red and fiery behind Tribes Hill; and women were crying and children sobbing all around me. I asked the Ranger, Mount, if he had news of you, and he was gentle and kind, and strove to comfort me, but he went away with his company on a run, and I saw the militia assembling where the drummers stood beating their drums in the torchlight.
"Somebody--a woman--said: 'It's hatchet and scalping again, and we women will catch it now.'
"And then a child screamed, and its mother was too weak to carry it, so I took it back for her to the jail.
"I sat in the jailer's room, thinking and thinking. Outside the barred window I heard a woman telling how Butler's men had already slain a whole family at Caughnawaga--an express having arrived with news of horrors unspeakable.
"Dearest, it came to me like a flash of light what I must do--what God meant me to do. Can you not understand, my darling? We are utterly helpless here. I must go back to this man--to this man who is riding hither with death on his right hand, and on his left hand, death!
"Oh, Carus! Carus! my sin has found me out! It is written that man should not put asunder those joined together. I have defied Him! Yet He repays, mercifully, offering me my last chance.
"Sweetheart, I must take it. Can you not understand? This man is my lawful husband; and as his wife, I dare resist him; I have the right to demand that his Indians and soldiers spare the aged and helpless. I must go to him, meet him, and confront him, and insist that mercy be shown to these poor, terrified people. _And I must pay the price!_
"Oh, Carus! Carus! I love you so! Pray for me. God keep you! I must go ere it is too late. My horse is at Burke's. I leave this for you. Dear, I am striving to mend a shattered life with sacrifice of self--the sacrifice you taught me. I can not help loving you as I do; but I can strive to be worthy of the man I love. This is the only way!
"ELSIN GREY."
The woman had begun to speak again. I raised my eyes.
"Your sweet lady gave me the letter--I waited while she wrote it in thewarden's room--and she was crying, sir. God knows what she has writtenyou!--but she kissed me and my little one, and went out into the yard.I have not seen her since, Mr. Renault."
Would the din of that hellish bell never cease its torture? Would soundnever again give my aching brain a moment's respite? The tumult, men'ssharp voices, the coughing of the sick woman, the dull, stupid blows ofsound were driving me mad! And now more noises broke out--the measuredcrash of volleys; cheers from the militia on the parapet; an uproarswelling all around me. I heard some one shout, "Willett has enteredthe town!" and the next instant the smashing roll of drums broke out inthe street, echoing back from facade and palisade, and I heard thefifes and hunting-horns playing "Soldiers' Joy!" and the longdouble-shuffling of infantry on the run.
The icy current of desperation flowed back into every vein. My mindcleared; I passed a steady hand over my eyes, looked around me, and,drawing the ranger's whistle from my belt, set it to my lips.
The clear, mellow call dominated the tumult. A man in deerskin droppedfrom the rifle-platform, another descended the ladder, others camerunning from the log bastions, all flocking around me like brown deerherding to the leader's call.
"Fall in!" I scarce knew my own voice.
The eager throng of riflemen fell away into a long rank, stringing outacross the jail yard.
"Shoulder arms! Right dress! Right face! Call off!"
The quick responses ran along the ranks: "Right! left! right!left!----"
"Right double!" I called. Then, as order followed order, the leftplatoon stepped forward, halted, and dressed.
"Take care to form column by platoons right, right front. To theright--face! March!"
The gates were flung wide as we passed through, and, wheeling, swungstraight into the streets of Johnstown with a solid hurrah!
A battalion of Massachusetts infantry was passing St. John's Church,filling William Street with the racket of their drums. Whitecross-belts and rifles shining, the black-gaitered column plodded past,mounted officers leading. Then a field-piece, harness and chainsclanking, came by, breasting the hill at a gallop, amid a tempest ofcheers from my riflemen. And now the Tryon County men were passing industy ranks, and more riflemen came running up, falling in behind mycompany.
"There's Tim Murphy!" cried Elerson joyously. "He has your horse,Captain!"
Down the hill from Burke's Inn came Murphy on a run, leading my horse;behind him sped the Weasel and a rifleman named Sammons, and Burkehimself, flourishing a rifle, all greeted lustily by the brown
ranksbehind me, amid shouts of laughter as Jimmy Burke, in cap andfluttering forest-dress, fell in with the others.
"Captain Renault, sorr--" I turned. Murphy touched his raccoon cap.
"Sorr, I hov f'r to repoort thot ye're sweet lady, sorr, is wid Butlerat Johnson Hall."
"Safe?" My lips scarcely moved.
"Safe so far, sorr. She rides wid their Major, Ross, an' theshtaff-officers in gold an' green."
I sprang to the saddle, raised my rifle and shook it, A shrill, wolfishyelling burst from the Rangers.
"Forward!" And "Forward! forward!" echoed the sergeants, as we swunginto a quick step.
The rifles on the hill by the Hall were speaking faster and faster now.A white cloud hid the Hall and the trees, thickening and spreading as avolley of musketry sent its smoke gushing into the bushes. Then, in thedun-colored fog, a red flame darted out, splitting the air with adeafening crash, and the thunder-clap of the cannon-shot shook theearth under our hurrying feet.
We were close to the Hall now. Behind a hedge fence running east ourmilitia lay, firing very coolly into the wavering mists, through whichtwinkled the ruddy rifle-flames of the enemy. The roar of the firingwas swelling, dominated by the tremendous concussions of thefield-piece. I saw officers riding like mounted phantoms through thesmoke; dead men in green, dead men in scarlet, and here and there adead Mohawk lay in the hedge. A wounded officer of Massachusettsinfantry passed us, borne away to the village by Schoharic militia.
As we started for the hedge on a double, suddenly, through the smoke,the other side of the hedge swarmed with men. They were everywhere,crashing through the thicket, climbing the fence, pouring forward withshouts and hurrahs. Then the naked form of an Indian appeared; another,another; the militia, disconcerted and surprised, struck at them withtheir gunstocks, wavered, turned, and ran toward us.
I had already deployed my right into line; the panic-stricken militiacame heading on as we opened to let them through; then we closed up; asheet of flame poured out into the very faces of Butler's Rangers;another, another!
Bolt upright in the stirrups, I lifted my smoking rifle: "Rangers!Charge!"
Beneath my plunging horse a soldier in green went down screaming; anIndian darted past, falling to death under a dozen clubbed rifles; thena yelling mass of green-coated soldiers, forced and crushed back intothe hedge, turned at bay; and into this writhing throng leaped myriflemen, hatchets flashing.
"Hold that hedge, Captain Renault!" came a calm voice near me, and Isaw Colonel Willett at my elbow, struggling with his frantic horse.
A mounted officer near him cried: "The rest of the militia on the rightare wavering, Colonel!"
"Then stop them, Captain Zielie!" said Willett, dragging his horse to astand. His voice was lost in the swelling roar of the fusillade wheremy Rangers were holding the hedge. On the extreme right, through anopen field, I saw the militia scattering, darting about wildly. Therecame a flash, a roar, and the scene was blotted out in a huge fountainof flame and smoke.
"They've blown up the ammunition-wagon! Butler's men have taken ourcannon!" yelled a soldier, swinging his arms frantically. "Oh, my God!the militia are running from the field!"
It was true. One of those dreadful and unaccountable panics had seizedthe militia. Nothing could stop them. I saw Colonel Willett spurforward, sword flashing; officers rode into the retreating lines,begging and imploring them to stand. The pressure on my riflemen wasenormous, and I ordered them to fall back by squads in circles to thefringe of woods. They obeyed very coolly and in perfect order, retiringstep by step, shot by shot.
Massachusetts infantry were holding the same woods; a few Tryon militiarallied to us, and Colonel Gray took command. "For God's sake, Renault,go and help Willett stop the militia!" he begged. "I'll hold thiscorner till you can bring us aid!"
I peered about me through the smoke, gathered bridle, wheeled throughthe bushes into the open field, and hurled my horse forward along theline of retreat.
Never had I believed brave men could show such terror. Nobody heededme, nobody listened. At my voice they only ran the faster, I gallopingalongside, beseeching them, and looking for Willett.
Straight into the streets of Johnstown fled the militia, crowding thetown in mad and shameless panic, carrying with them their mountedofficers, as a torrent hurls chips into a whirlpool.
"Halt! In Heaven's name, what is the matter? Why, you had them on therun, you men of Tryon, you Ulster men!" cried Colonel Willett.
A seething mass of fugitives was blocked at the old stone church. Intothem plunged the officers, cursing, threatening, imploring, I amongthem, my horse almost swept from his legs in the rushing panic.
"Don't run, lads," I said; "don't put us all to this shame! Why, whatare you afraid of? I saw nothing to scare a child on the hill. And thisis my first battle. I thought war was something to scare a man. Butthis is nothing. You wouldn't leave the Rangers there all alone, wouldyou? They're up there drilling holes in the Indians who came to murderyour wives and children. Come on, boys! You didn't mean it. We can'tlet those yagers and Greens take a cannon as easily as that!"
They were listening to Willett, too; here and there a sergeant took upthe pleading. I found an exhausted drummer-boy sitting on the steps ofthe church, and induced him to stand up and beat the assembly. Officerafter officer struggled through the mob, leading out handfuls of men;lines formed; I snatched a flag from an ensign and displayed it; acompany, at shoulder arms, headed by a drummer, emerged from the chaos,marching in fair alignment; another followed more steadily; line afterline fell in and paraded; the fifes began to squeal, and the shrillquickstep set company after company in motion.
"It's all right, lads!" cried Willett cheerily, as he galloped forward."We are going back for that cannon we lost by mistake. Come on, youTryon County men! Don't let the Rangers laugh at you!"
Then the first cheer broke out; mounted officers rode up, baring theirswords, surrounding the Colonel. He gave me a calm and whimsical look,almost a smile:
"Scared, Carus?"
"No, sir."
"D'ye hear that firing to the left? Well, that's Rowley's flankingcolumn of levies and the Massachusetts men. Hark! Listen to that riflemusic! Now we'll drive them! Now we've got them at last!"
I caught him by the sleeve, and bent forward from my saddle:
"Do you know that the woman I am to marry is with the enemy?" Idemanded hoarsely.
"No. Good God, Carus! Have they got her?"
His shocked face paled; he laid his hand on my shoulder, riding insilence as I told him what I knew.
"By Heaven!" he said, striking his gloved hands together, "we'll gether yet, Carus; I tell you, we'll get her safe and sound. Do you thinkI mean to let these mad wolves slink off this time and skulk awayunpunished? Do you suppose I don't know that the time has come to purgethis frontier for good and all of Walter Butler? You need not worry,Carus. It is true that God alone could have foreseen the strange panicthat started these militiamen on a run, as though they had neversmelled powder--as though they had not answered a hundred alarms fromOriskany to Currietown. I could not foresee that, but, by God, we'vestopped it! And now I tell you we are going to deal Walter Butler ablow that will end his murdering career forever! Look sharp!"
A racket of rifle-fire broke out ahead; two men dropped.
We were in the smoke now. Indians rose from every thicket and leapedaway in retreat; the column broke into a run, mounted officers trottingforward, pistol and sword in hand.
"Why, there's our cannon, boys!" cried Colonel Lewis excitedly.
A roar greeted the black Colonel's words; the entire line sprangforward; a file of Oneidas sped along our flanks, rifles a-trail.
Through the smoke I saw the Hall now, and in a field to the east of ita cannon which some Highlanders and soldiers in green uniforms wereattempting to drag off.
At the view the yelling onset was loosed; the kilted troops and thegreen-coated soldiers took to their legs, and I saw our militiaswarming aroun
d the field-piece, hugging it, patting it, embracing it,while from the woods beyond my Rangers cheered and cheered. Ah! now themilitia were in it again; the hedge fence was carried with a rush, andall around us in the red sunset light shouting militia, Royal Greens,and naked, yelling Indians were locked in a death struggle, hatchet,knife, and rifle-butt playing their silent and awful part.
An officer in a scarlet coat galloped at me full tilt, snapped hispistol as he passed, wheeled, and attempted to ride me down at hissword's point, but Colonel Willett pistoled him as I parried his thrustwith my rifle-barrel; and I saw his maddened horse bearing him away, heswaying horridly in his saddle, falling sidewise, and striking theground, one spurred heel entangled in his stirrup.
Sickened, I turned away, and presently sounded the rally for myRangers. For full twenty minutes militia and riflemen poured sheets ofbullets into the Royal Greens from the hedge fence; their flankdoubled, wavered, and broke as the roaring fire of Rowley's men drewnearer. Twilight fell; redder and redder leaped the rifle-flamesthrough the smoky dusk. Suddenly their whole line gave way, and webroke through--riflemen, militia, Massachusetts men--broke through witha terrific yell. And before us fled Indian and Tory, yager andrenegade, Greens, Rangers, Highlanders, officers galloping madly,baggage-wagons smashed, horses down, camp trampled to tatters andsplinters as the vengeance of Tryon County passed in a tornado of furythat cleansed the land forever of Walter Butler and his demons of theNorth!
In that furious onslaught through the darkness and smoke, whereprisoners were being taken, Indians and Greens chased and shot down, asteady flicker of rifle-fire marked the course of the disastrous rout,and the frenzied vengeance following--an awful vengeance now, for, inthe blackness, a new and dreadful sound broke--the fiercely melancholyscalp-yell of my Oneidas!
Galloping across a swampy field, where the dead and scalped lay in theooze, I shouted the Wolf Clan challenge; and a lone cry answered me,coming nearer, nearer, until in the smoke-shot darkness I saw theterrific painted shape of an Indian looming, saluting me with upliftedand reeking hatchet.
"Brother! brother!" I groaned, "by the Wolf whose sign we wear, and bythe sign of Tharon, follow her who is to be my wife--follow by night,by day, through the haunts of men, through the still places! Goswiftly, O my brother the Otter--swiftly as hound on trail! I chargeyou by that life you owe, by that clan tie which breaks not whennations break, by the sign of Tharon, that floats among the starsforever, find me this woman whom I am to wed! Your life for hers, Obrother! Go!"