The Hidden Children Part 82

"I own that I am somewhat inclined that way," said I.

"As you please."

"Why? Are you unwell?"

He lay silent for a few moments, then:

"What a mortifying business was that at the Tioga fort," he said under his breath. "The entire garrison saw it, did they not, Loskiel? Colonel Shreve and all?"

"Yes, I fear so,"

"It will be common gossip tomorrow," he said bitterly. "What a miserable affair to happen to an officer of Morgan's!"

"A sad affair," I said.

"It will come to her ears, no doubt. Shreve's batt-men will carry it down the river."

I was silent.

"Rumour runs the woods like lightning," he said. "She will surely hear of this disgraceful scene. She will hear of it at Easton.... Strange,"

he muttered, "strange how the old truths hold!... Our sins shall find us out.... I never before believed that, Loskiel--not in a wilderness, anyway.... I had rather be here dead and scalped than have had that happen and know that she must hear of it one day."

He lay motionless for a while, then turned heavily on his side, facing me across the heap of dead leaves.

"Somehow or other," he said, "she heard of that miserable business--heard of it even at Otsego.... That is why she would not marry me, Loskiel. Did you ever hear the like! That a man must be so utterly and hopelessly d.a.m.ned for a moment's careless folly--lose everything in the world for a thoughtless moonlight frolic! Where lies the justice in such a judgment?"

"It is not the world that judges you severely. The world cares little what a man's way may be with a maid."

"But--Lana cares. It has ended everything for her."

I said in a low voice:

"You ended everything for Dolly Glenn."

"How was I to know she was no light o' love--this camp tailoress--this silly little wench who--but let it go! Had she but whimpered, and seemed abashed and unfamiliar with a kiss---- Well, let it go.... But I could cut my tongue out that I ever spoke to her. G.o.d! How lightly steps a man into a trap of his own contriving!... And here I lie tonight, caring not whether I live or die in tomorrow's battle already dawning on the Chemung. And yonder, south of us, in the black starlight, drift the batteaux, dropping down to Easton under the very sky that shines above us here.... If Lana be asleep at this moment I do not know.... She tells me I have broke her heart--but yet will have none of me.... Tells me my duty lies elsewhere; that I shall make amends. How can a man make amends when his heart lies not in the deed?... Am I then to be fettered to a pa.s.sing whim for all eternity?

Does an instant's idle folly entail endless responsibility? Do I merit punishment everlasting for a silly amourette that lasted no longer than the July moon? Tell me, Loskiel, you who are called among us blameless and unstained, is there no hope for a guilty man to shrive himself and walk henceforward upright?"

"I can not answer you," I said dully. "Nor do I know how, of such a business, a man may be shriven, or what should be his amends.... It all seems pitiful and sad to me--a matter perplexing, unhappy, and far beyond my solving.... I know it is the fashion of the times to regard such affairs lightly, making of them nothing.... Much I have heard, little learned, save that the old lessons seem to be the truest; the old laws the best. And that our cynical and modern disregard of them make one's salvation none the surer, one's happiness none the safer."

I heard Boyd sigh heavily, where he lay; but he said nothing more that I heard; for I slept soon afterward, and was awakened only at dawn.

Everywhere in the rocky pa.s.s the yawning riflemen were falling in and calling off; a detail of surly Jersey men, carrying ropes, pa.s.sed us, cursing the artillery which, it appeared, was in a sorry plight again, the nine guns all stalled behind us, and an entire New Jersey brigade detailed to pull them out o' the mud and over the rocks of the narrowing defile.

Boyd shared my breakfast, seeming to have recovered something of his old-time spirits. And if the camp that night had gossiped concerning what took place at Tioga Fort, it seemed to make no difference to his friends, who one and all greeted him with the same fellowship and affection that he had ever inspired among fighting men. No man, I think, was more beloved and admired in this Western army, by officers and men alike; for in him were naturally combined all those brilliant qualities of daring, fearlessness, and gaiety in the face of peril, which endear, and which men strive to emulate. In no enterprise had he ever failed to perform the part allotted him; never had he faltered in the hundred battles fought by Morgan's veteran corps; never had he seemed dismayed. And if sometimes he did a little more than he was asked to do, his superior officers forgave this handsome, impetuous young man--the more readily, perhaps, because, so far, no disaster had befallen when he exceeded the orders given him.

My Indians had eaten, and were touching up their paint when Major Parr came up, wearing a magnificent new suit of fringed buckskins, and ordered us to guide the rifle battalion. A moment later our conch-horn boomed out its thrilling and melodious warning. Far in the rear I heard the drums and bugle-horns of the light infantry sounding the general.

As we went forward in the early daylight, the nature of the ambuscade prepared for us became very plain to me; and I pointed out to Major Parr where the unseen enemy rested, his right flank protected by the river, his left extending north along the hog-bank, so that his lines enveloped the trail on which we marched, threatening our entire army in a most cunning and evil manner. Truly there was no fox like Butler in the Northland!

All was very still about us as we marched; the river mist hung along the woods; a few birds sang; the tops of the Indian corn rustled.

Toward eight o'clock the conch-horn blew; our riflemen halted and deployed in perfect silence, facing the unseen works on the wooded ridge ahead. Another division of troops swung to the left, continuing the movement to the river in splendid order, where they also halted and formed a line of battle, facing north. And still the unseen enemy gave no sign; birds sang; the mist drifted up through the trees.

From where we lay we could see our artillery horses straining, plunging, stumbling up a high knoll in the centre of our line, while Maxwell's division halted and extended behind our riflemen to support the artillery, and Clinton's four splendid New York regiments hurried forward on a double, regiment after regiment dropping their packs behind our lines and running north through the open woods, their officers all finely mounted and cantering ahead, swords drawn.

A few moments later, General Sullivan pa.s.sed along our front on horseback, and drew bridle for a moment where Boyd and I were standing at salute.

"Now is your opportunity, young gentlemen," he said in a low voice. "If you would gain Catharines-town and destroy Amochol before we drive this motley Tory army headlong through it, you should start immediately. And have a care; Butler's entire army and Brant's Mohawks are now intrenched in front of us; and it is a pitched battle we're facing--G.o.d be thanked!"

He spurred forward with a friendly gesture toward us, as we saluted; and his staff officers followed him at a canter while our riflemen turned their heads curiously to watch the brilliant cavalcade.

"Where the devil are their log works?" demanded Major Parr, using his field gla.s.ses. "I can see naught but green on that ridge ahead."

Boyd painted at the crest; but our Major could see nothing; and I called to Timothy Murphy and Dave Elerson to climb trees and spy out if the works were still occupied.

Murphy came down presently from the dizzy top of a huge black-walnut tree, reporting that he had been able to see into the river angle of their works; had for a while distinguished nothing, but presently discovered Indians, crouched motionless, the brilliancy of their paint, which at first he had mistaken for patches of autumn leaves, betraying them when they moved.

"Now, G.o.d be praised!" said Major Parr grimly. "For we shall this day furnish these Western-Gate Keepers with material for a Condolence Feast such as no Seneca ever dreamed of. And if you gentlemen can surprise and destroy Amochol, it will be a most blessed day for our unhappy country."

General Hand, in his patched and faded uniform of blue and buff, drew his long, heavy sword and walked his horse over to Major Parr.

"Well, sir," he said, "we must amuse them, I suppose, until the New Yorkers gain their left. Push your men forward and draw their fire, Major."

There came a low order; the soft shuffle of many moca.s.sined feet; silence. Presently, ahead of us, a single rifle-shot shattered the stillness.

Instantly a mighty roar of Tory musketry filled the forest; and their Indians, realizing that the ambuscade had been discovered, came leaping down the wooded ridge, yelling and firing all along our front; and our rifles began to speak quicker and quicker from every rock and tuft and fallen log.

"Are we to miss this?" said Boyd, restlessly. "Listen to that firing!

The devil take this fellow Amochol and his Eries! I wish we were yonder with our own people. I wish at least that I could see what our New Yorkers are about!"

Behind us, Boyd's twenty riflemen stood craning their sunburnt necks; and my Indians, terribly excited, fairly quivered where they crouched beside us. But all we could see was the rifle smoke sifting through the trees, and early sunshine slanting on the misty river.

The fierce yelling of the unseen Mohawks and Senecas on the wooded ridge above us had become one continuous and hideous scream, shrill and piercing above the racket of musketry and rifle fire; sometimes the dreadful volume of sound surged nearer as though they were charging, or showing themselves in order to draw us into a frontal attack on their pits and log breastworks; but always after a little while the yelping tumult receded, and our rifle fire slackened while the musketry from the breastworks grew more furious, crashing out volley on volley, while the entire ridge steamed like a volcano in action. Further to the north we heard more musketry break out, as our New York regiments pa.s.sed rapidly toward Butler's left flank. And by the running fire we could follow their hurried progress.

"h.e.l.l!" said Boyd, furiously, flinging his rifle to his shoulder. "Come on, Loskiel, or we'll miss this accursed Amochol also." And he gave the signal to march.

As we skirted the high knoll where our artillery was planted, the first howitzer shot shook the forest, and my Indians cringed as they ran beside me. High towering rose the sh.e.l.l, screaming like a living thing, and plunged with a shriek into the woods on the ridge, exploding there with a most infernal bang.

Up through the trees gushed a very fountain of smoke, through which we could dimly see dark objects falling; but whether these were the limbs of trees or of men we could not tell.

Crash! A howitzer hurled its five and a half inch sh.e.l.l high into the sunshine. Boom! Another shot from a three-pounder. Bang! The little cohorn added its miniature bellow to the bigger guns, which now began to thunder regularly, one after another, shaking the ground we trod.

The ridge was ruddy with the red lightning of exploding sh.e.l.ls. Very far away in the forest we could hear entire regiments, as they climbed the slopes, cheering above the continuous racket of musketry; the yelling of the Senecas and Mohawks grew wavering, becoming ragged and thinner.

It was hard for us all, I think, to turn our backs on the first real battle we had seen in months--hard for Boyd, for me, and for our twenty riflemen; harder, perhaps, for our Indians, who could hear the yells of their most deadly enemies, and who knew that they were within striking distance at last.

As we marched in single file, I leading with my Indians, I said aloud, in the Iroquois tongue:

"If in this Battle of the Chemung the Mountain Snake be left writhing, yet unless we crush his head at Catharines-town, the serpent will live to strike again. For though a hundred arrows stick in the Western Serpent's body, his poison lies in his fangs; his fangs are rooted in his head; and the head still hisses at G.o.d and man from the s.h.a.ggy depths of Catharines-town. It is for us of the elect to slay him there--for us few and chosen ones honoured by this mandate from our commander. Why, then, should the thunder of Proctor's guns arouse in us envy for those who join in battle? Let the iron guns do their part; let the men of New York, of Jersey, of Virginia, of New Hampshire, of Pennsylvania, do the great part allotted them. Let us in our hearts pray G.o.d to speed them. For if we do our part as worthily, only then shall their labour be not in vain. Their true t.i.tle to glory is in our keeping, locked inevitably with our own. If we fail, they have failed.

Judge, therefore, O Sagamore, judge, you Yellow Moth, and you Oneidas--Grey-Feather, with your war-chief's feather and your Sachem's ensign, Tahoontowhee, chieftain to be--judge, all of you, where the real glory lies--whether behind us in the rifle smoke or before us in the red glare of Amochol's accursed altar!"