Chapter XI. The Melancholy Flight

by Joseph A. Altsheler

　　Paul revived in a few minutes. They were still lying in thebushes, and when he was able to stand up again, they moved at anangle several hundred yards before they stopped. One pistol wasthrust into Paul's hand and another into that of Shif'less Sol.

　　Keep those until we can get rifles for you," said Henry. "You mayneed 'em to-night."

　　They crouched down in the thicket and looked back toward theIndian camp. The warriors whom they had repulsed were notreturning with help, and, for the moment, they seemed to have noenemy to fear, yet they could still see through the woods thefaint lights of the Indian camps, and to Paul, at least, came theechoes of distant cries that told of things not to be written.

　　"We saw you captured, and we heard Sol's warning cry," saidHenry. " There was nothing to do but run. Then we hid andwaited a chance for rescue."

　　"It would never have come if it had not been for Timmendiquas,"said Paul.

　　"Timmendiquas!" exclaimed Henry.

　　"Yes, Timmendiquas," said Paul, and then be told the story of"The Bloody Rock," and how, in the turmoil and excitementattending the flight of the last four, Timmendiquas had cut thebonds of Shif'less Sol and himself.

　　"I think the mind o' White Lightnin', Injun ez he is," saidShif'less Sol, "jest naterally turned aginst so much slaughteran' torture o' prisoners."

　　"I'm sure you're right," said Henry.

　　"'Pears strange to me," said Long Jim Hart, "that Timmendiquaswas made an Injun. He's jest the kind uv man who ought to bewhite, an' he'd be pow'ful useful, too. I don't jest eggzactlyunderstan' it."

　　"He has certainly saved the lives of at least three of us," saidHenry. "I hope we will get a chance to pay him back in full."

　　"But he's the only one," said Shif'less Sol, thinking of all thathe had seen that night. "The Iroquois an' the white men that'sallied with 'em won't ever get any mercy from me, ef any uv 'emhappen to come under my thumb. I don't think the like o' thisday an' night wuz ever done on this continent afore. I'm forrevenge, I am, like that place where the Bible says, 'an eye foran eye, an' a tooth for a tooth,' an' I'm goin' to stay in thispart o' the country till we git it!"

　　It was seldom that Shif'less Sol spoke with so much passion andenergy.

　　"We're all going to stay with you, Sol," said Henry. We'reneeded here. I think we ought to circle about the fort, slip inif we can, and fight with the defense."

　　"Yes, we'll do that," said Shif'less Sol, "but the Wyoming fortcan't ever hold out. Thar ain't a hundred men left in it fit tofight, an' thar are more than than a thousand howlin' devilsoutside ready to attack it. Thar may be worse to come thananything we've yet seen."

　　"Still, we'll go in an' help," said Henry. "Sol, when you an'Paul have rested a little longer we'll make a big loop around inthe woods, and come up to the fort on the other side."

　　They were in full accord, and after an hour in the bushes, wherethey lay completely hidden, recovering their vitality and energy,they undertook to reach the fort and cabins inclosed by thepalisades. Paul was still weak from shock, but Shif'less Sol hadfully recovered. Neither bad weapons, but they were sure thatthe want could be supplied soon. They curved around toward thewest, intending to approach the fort from the other side, butthey did not wholly lose sight of the fires, and they heard nowand then the triumphant war whoop. The victors were stillengaged in the pleasant task of burning the prisoners to death.Little did the five, seeing and feeling only their part of itthere in the dark woods, dream that the deeds of this day andnight would soon shock the whole civilized world, and remain, forgenerations, a crowning act of infamy. But they certainly feltit deeply enough, and in each heart burned a fierce desire forrevenge upon the Iroquois.

　　It was almost midnight when they secured entrance into the fort,which was filled with grief and wailing. That afternoon morethan one hundred and fifty women within those walls had been madewidows, and six hundred children had been made orphans. But fewmen fit to bear arms were left for its defense, and it wascertain that the allied British and Indian army would easily takeit on the morrow. A demand for its surrender in the name of KingGeorge III of England had already been made, and, sitting at alittle rough table in the cabin of Thomas Bennett, the roomlighted only by a single tallow wick, Colonel Butler and ColonelDennison were writing an agreement that the fort be surrenderedthe next day, with what it should contain. But Colonel Butlerput his wife on a horse and escaped with her over the mountains.

　　Stragglers, evading the tomahawk in the darkness, were coming in,only to be surrendered the next day; others were pouring forth ina stream, seeking the shelter of the mountains and the forest,preferring any dangers that might be found there to the merciesof the victors.

　　When Shif'less Sol learned that the fort was to be given up, besaid:

　　"It looks ez ef we had escaped from the Iroquois jest in time tobeg 'em to take us back."

　　"I reckon I ain't goin' to stay 'roun' here while things arebein' surrendered," said Long Jim Hart.

　　"I'll do my surrenderin' to Iroquois when they've got my handsan' feet tied, an' six or seven uv 'em are settin' on my back,"said Tom Ross.

　　"We'll leave as soon as we can get arms for Sol and Paul," saidHenry. "Of course it would be foolish of us to stay here and becaptured again. Besides, we'll be needed badly enough by thewomen and children that are going."

　　Good weapons were easily obtained in the fort. It was far betterto let Sol and Paul have them than to leave them for the Indians.They were able to select two fine rifles of the Kentucky pattern,long and slender barreled, a tomahawk and knife for each, andalso excellent double-barreled pistols. The other three now haddouble-barreled pistols, too. In addition they resuppliedthemselves with as much ammunition as scouts and hunters couldconveniently carry, and toward morning left the fort.

　　Sunrise found them some distance from the palisades, and upon theflank of a frightened crowd of fugitives. It was composed of onehundred women and children and a single man, James Carpenter, whowas doing his best to guide and protect them. They wereintending to flee through the wilderness to the Delaware andLehigh settlements, chiefly Fort Penn, built by Jacob Stroud,where Stroudsburg now is.

　　When the five, darkened by weather and looking almost likeIndians themselves, approached, Carpenter stepped forward andraised his rifle. A cry of dismay rose from the melancholy line,a cry so intensely bitter that it cut Henry to the very heart.He threw up his hand, and exclaimed in a loud voice:

　　"We are friends, not Indians or Tories! We fought with youyesterday, and we are ready to fight for you now!"

　　Carpenter dropped the muzzle of the rifle. He had fought in thebattle, too, and he recognized the great youth and his comradeswho had been there with him.

　　"What do you want of us?" asked he.

　　"Nothing," replied Henry, "except to help you."

　　Carpenter looked at them with a kind of sad pathos.

　　"You don't belong here in Wyoming," he said, "and there's nothingto make you stick to us. What are you meaning to do?"

　　"We will go with you wherever you intend to go," replied Henry;"do fighting for you if you need it, and hunt game for you, whichyou are certain to need."

　　The weather-beaten face of the farmer worked.

　　"I thought God had clean deserted us," he said, "but I'm ready totake it back. I reckon that he has sent you five to help me withall these women and little ones."

　　It occurred to Henry that perhaps God, indeed, had sent them forthis very purpose, but he replied simply:

　　"You lead on, and we'll stay in the rear and on the sides towatch for the Indians. Draw into the woods, where we'll behidden."

　　Carpenter, obscure hero, shouldered his rifle again, and led ontoward the woods. The long line of women and children followed.Some of the women carried in their arms children too small towalk. Yet they were more hopeful now when they saw that the fivewere friends. These lithe, active frontiersmen, so quick, soskillful, and so helpful, raised their courage. Yet it was amost doleful flight. Most of these women had been made widowsthe day before, some of them had been made widows and childlessat the same time, and wondered why they should seek to livelonger. But the very mental stupor of many of them was an aid.They ceased to cry out, and some even ceased to be afraid.

　　Henry, Shif'less Sol, and Tom dropped to the rear. Paul and LongJim were on either flank, while Carpenter led slowly on towardthe mountains.

　　"'Pears to me," said Tom, "that the thing fur us to do is tohurry 'em up ez much ez possible."

　　"So the Indians won't see 'em crossing the plain," said Henry."We couldn't defend them against a large force, and it wouldmerely be a massacre. We must persuade them to walk faster."

　　Shif'less Sol was invaluable in this crisis. He could talkforever in his-placid way, and, with his gentle encouragement,mild sarcasm, and anecdotes of great feminine walkers that he hadknown, he soon had them moving faster.

　　Henry and Tom dropped farther to the rear. They could see aheadof them the long dark line, coiling farther into the woods, butthey could also see to right and left towers of smoke rising inthe clear morning sunlight. These, they knew, came from burninghouses, and they knew, also, that the valley would be ravagedfrom end to end and from side to side. After the surrender ofthe fort the Indians would divide into small bands, goingeverywhere, and nothing could escape them.

　　The sun rose higher, gilding the earth with glowing light, as ifthe black tragedy had never happened, but the frontiersmenrecognized their greatest danger in this brilliant morning.Objects could be seen at a great distance, and they could be seenvividly.

　　Keen of sight and trained to know what it was they saw, Henry,Sol, and Tom searched the country with their eyes, on all sides.They caught a distant glimpse of the Susquehanna, a silver spotamong some trees, and they saw the sunlight glancing off theopposite mountains, but for the present they saw nothing thatseemed hostile.

　　They allowed the distance between them and the retreating file togrow until it was five or six hundred yards, and they might havelet it grow farther, but Henry made a signal, and the three laydown in the grass.

　　"You see 'em, don't you!" the youth whispered to his comrade.

　　"Yes, down thar at the foot o' that hillock," replied Shif'lessSol; " two o' em, an' Senecas, I take it."

　　"They've seen that crowd of women and children," said Henry.

　　It was obvious that the flying column was discovered. The twoIndians stepped upon the hillock and gazed under their hands. Itwas too far away for the three to see their faces, but they knewthe joy that would be shown there. The two could return with afew warriors and massacre them all.

　　"They must never get back to the other Indians with their news,"whispered Henry. "I hate to shoot men from ambush, but it's gotto be done. Wait, they're coming a little closer."

　　The two Senecas advanced about thirty yards, and stopped again.

　　"S'pose you fire at the one on the right, Henry," said Tom, " an'me an' Sol will take the one to the left." " All right," saidHenry. "Fire!"

　　They wasted no time, but pulled trigger. The one at whom Henryhad aimed fell, but the other, uttering a cry, made off, wounded,but evidently with plenty of strength left.

　　"We mustn't let him escape! We mustn't let him carry awarning!" cried Henry.

　　But Shif'less Sol and Tom Ross were already in pursuit, coveringthe ground with long strides, and reloading as they ran. Underordinary circumstances no one of the three would have fired at aman running for his life, but here the necessity was vital. Ifhe lived, carrying the tale that he had to tell, a hundredinnocent ones might perish. Henry followed his comrades,reloading his own rifle, also, but he stayed behind. The Indianhad a good lead, and he was gaining, as the others were compelledto check speed somewhat as they put the powder and bullets intheir rifles. But Henry was near enough to Shif'less Sol andSilent Tom to hear them exchange a few words.

　　"How far away is that savage?" asked Shif'less Sol.

　　"Hundred and eighty yards," said Tom Ross.

　　"Well, you take him in the head, and I'll take him in the body."

　　Henry saw the two rifle barrels go up and two flashes of flameleap from the muzzles. The Indian fell forward and lay still.They went up to him, and found that he was shot through the headand also through the body.

　　"We may miss once, but we don't twice," said Tom Ross.

　　The human mind can be influenced so powerfully by events that thethree felt no compunction at all at the shooting of this fleeingIndian. It was but a trifle compared with what they had seen theday and night before.

　　"We'd better take the weapons an' ammunition o' both uv 'em,"said Sol. "They may be needed, an' some o ' the women in thatcrowd kin shoot."

　　They gathered up the arms, powder, and ball, and waited a littleto see whether the shots had been heard by any other Indians, butthere was no indication of the presence of more warriors, and therejoined the fugitives. Long Jim had dropped back to the end ofthe line, and when he saw that his comrades carried two extrarifles, he understood.

　　"They didn't give no alarm, did they?" he asked in a tone so lowthat none of the fugitives could hear.

　　"They didn't have any chance," replied Henry. "We've broughtaway all their weapons and ammunition, but just say to the womenthat we found them in an abandoned house."

　　The rifles and the other arms were given to the boldest and moststalwart of the women, and they promised to use them if the needcame. Meanwhile the flight went on, and the farther it went thesadder it became. Children became exhausted, and had to becarried by people so tired that they could scarcely walkthemselves. There was nobody in the line who had not lost somebeloved one on that fatal river bank, killed in battle, ortortured to death. As they slowly ascended the green slope ofthe mountain that inclosed a side of the valley, they looked backupon ruin and desolation. The whole black tragedy was beingconsummated. They could see the houses in flames, and they knewthat the Indian war parties were killing and scalping everywhere.They knew, too, that other bodies of fugitives, as stricken astheir own, were fleeing into the mountains, they scarcely knewwhither.

　　As they paused a few moments and looked back, a great cry burstfrom the weakest of the women and children. Then it became a sadand terrible wail, and it was a long time before it ceased. Itwas an awful sound, so compounded of despair and woe and oflonging for what they had lost that Henry choked, and the tearsstood in Paul's eyes. But neither the five nor Carpenter madeany attempt to check the wailing. They thought it best for themto weep it out, but they hurried the column as much as theycould, often carrying some of the smaller children themselves.Paul and Long Jim were the best as comforters. The two knew how,each in his own way, to soothe and encourage. Carpenter, whoknew the way to Fort Penn, led doggedly on, scarcely saying aword. Henry, Shif'less Sol, and Tom were the rear guard, whichwas, in this case, the one of greatest danger and responsibility.

　　Henry was thankful that it was only early summer the Fourth ofJuly, the second anniversary of the Declaration ofIndependence-and that the foliage was heavy and green on theslopes of the mountain. In this mass of greenery the desolatecolumn was now completely hidden from any observer in the valley,and he believed that other crowds of fugitives would be hidden inthe same manner. He felt sure that no living human being wouldbe left in the valley, that it would be ravaged from end to endand then left to desolation, until new people, protected byAmerican bayonets, should come in and settle it again.

　　At last they passed the crest of the ridge, and the fires in thevalley, those emblems of destruction, were hidden. Between themand Fort Penn, sixty miles away, stretched a wilderness ofmountain, forest, and swamp. But the five welcomed the forest.A foe might lie there in ambush, but they could not see thefugitives at a distance. What the latter needed now wasobscurity, the green blanket of the forest to hide them.Carpenter led on over a narrow trail; the others followed almostin single file now, while the five scouted in the woods on eitherflank and at the rear. Henry and Shif'less Sol generally kepttogether, and they fully realized the overwhelming danger shouldan Indian band, even as small as ten or a dozen warriors, appear.Should the latter scatter, it would be impossible to protect allthe women and children from their tomahawks.

　　The day was warm, but the forest gave them coolness as well asshelter. Henry and Sol were seldom so far back that they couldnot see the end of the melancholy line, now moving slowly,overborne by weariness. The shiftless one shook his head sadly.

　　"No matter what happens, some uv 'em will never get out o' thesewoods."

　　His words came true all too soon. Before the afternoon closed,two women, ill before the flight, died of terror and exhaustion,and were buried in shallow graves under the trees. Before dark ahalt was made at the suggestion of Henry, and all exceptCarpenter and the scouts sat in a close, drooping group. Many ofthe children cried, though the women had all ceased to weep.They had some food with them, taken in the hurried flight, andnow the men asked them to eat. Few could do it, and othersinsisted on saving what little they had for the children. LongJim found a spring near by, and all drank at it.

　　The six men decided that, although night had not yet come, itwould be best to remain there until the morning. Evidently thefugitives were in no condition, either mental or physical, to gofarther that day, and the rest was worth more than the risk.

　　When this decision was announced to them, most of the women tookit apathetically. Soon they lay down upon a blanket, if one wasto be had; otherwise, on leaves and branches. Again Henrythanked God that it was summer, and that these were people of thefrontier, who could sleep in the open. No fire was needed, and,outside of human enemies, only rain was to be dreaded.

　　And yet this band, desperate though its case, was more fortunatethan some of the others that fled from the Wyoming Valley. Ithad now to protect it six men Henry and Paul, though boys inyears, were men in strength and ability - five of whom were theequals of any frontiersmen on the whole border. Another crowd ofwomen was escorted by a single man throughout its entire flight.

　　Henry and his comrades distributed themselves in a circle aboutthe group. At times they helped gather whortleberries as foodfor the others, but they looked for Indians or game, intending toshoot in either case. When Paul and Henry were together theyonce heard a light sound in a thicket, which at first they wereafraid was made by an Indian scout, but it was a deer, and itbounded away too soon for either to get a shot. They could notfind other game of any kind, and they came back toward thecamp-if a mere stop in the woods, without shelter of any kind,could be called a camp.

　　The sun was now setting, blood red. It tinged the forest with afiery mist, reminding the unhappy group of all that they hadseen. But the mist was gone in a few moments, and then theblackness of night came with a weird moaning wind that told ofdesolation. Most of the children, having passed through everyphase of exhaustion and terror, had fallen asleep. Some of thewomen slept, also, and others wept. But the terrible wailingnote, which the nerves of no man could stand, was heard nolonger.

　　The five gathered again at a point near by, and Carpenter came tothem.

　　"Men," he said simply, "don't know much about you, though Iknow you fought well in the battle that we lost, but for whatyou're doin' now nobody can ever repay you. I knew that I nevercould get across the mountains with all these weak ones."

　　The five merely said that any man who was a man would help atsuch a time. Then they resumed their march in a perpetual circleabout the camp.

　　Some women did not sleep at all that night. It is not easy toconceive what the frontier women of America endured so manythousands of times. They had seen their husbands, brothers, andsons killed in the battle, and they knew that the worst oftorture had been practiced in the Indian camp. Many of themreally did not want to live any longer. They merely struggledautomatically for life. The darkness settled down thicker andthicker; the blackness in the forest was intense, and they couldsee the faces of one another only at a little distance. Thedesolate moan of the wind came through the leaves, and, althoughit was July, the night grew cold. The women crept closertogether, trying to cover up and protect the children. The wind,with its inexpressibly mournful note, was exactly fitted to theirfeelings. Many of them wondered why a Supreme Being hadpermitted such things. But they ceased to talk. No sound at allcame from the group, and any one fifty yards away, notforewarned, could not have told that they were there.

　　Henry and Paul met again about midnight, and sat a long time on alittle hillock. Theirs had been the most dangerous of lives onthe most dangerous of frontiers, but they had never been stirredas they were tonight. Even Paul, the mildest of the five, feltsomething burning within him, a fire that only one thing couldquench.

　　"Henry," said he, "we're trying to get these people to Fort Penn,and we may get some of them there, but I don't think our workwill be ended them. I don't think I could ever be happy again ifwe went straight from Fort Penn to Kentucky."

　　Henry understood him perfectly.

　　"No, Paul," he said, "I don't want to go, either, and I know theothers don't. Maybe you are not willing to tell why we want tostay, but it is vengeance. I know it's Christian to forgive yourenemies, but I can't see what I have seen, and hear what I haveheard, and do it."

　　"When the news of these things spreads," said Paul, "they'll sendan army from the east. Sooner or later they'll just have to doit to punish the Iroquois and their white allies, and we've gotto be here to join that army."

　　"I feel that way, too, Paul," said Henry.

　　They were joined later by the other three, who stayed a littlewhile, and they were in accord with Henry and Paul.

　　Then they began their circles about the camp again, alwayslooking and always listening. About two o'clock in the morningthey heard a scream, but it was only the cry of a panther.Before day there were clouds, a low rumble of distant thunder,and faint far flashes of lightning. Henry was in dread of rain,but the lightning and thunder ceased, and the clouds went away.Then dawn came, rosy and bright, and all but three rose from theearth. The three-one woman and two children-had died in silencein the night, and they were buried, like the others, in shallowgraves in the woods. But there was little weeping or externalmourning over them. All were now heavy and apathetic, capable ofbut little more emotion.

　　Carpenter resumed his position at the head of the column, whichnow moved slowly over the mountain through a thick forest mattedwith vines and bushes and without a path. The march was now sopainful and difficult that they did not make more than two milesan hour. The stronger of them helped the men to gather morewhortleberries, as it was easy to see that the food they had withthem would never last until they reached Fort Penn, should theyever reach it.

　　The condition of the country into which they had entered steadilygrew worse. They were well into the mountains, a regionexceedingly wild and rough, but little known to the settlers, whohad gone around it to build homes in the fertile and beautifulvalley of Wyoming. The heavy forest was made all the moredifficult by the presence everywhere of almost impassableundergrowth. Now and then a woman lay down under the bushes, andin two cases they died there because the power to live was nolonger in them. They grew weaker and weaker. The food that theyhad brought from the Wyoming fort was almost exhausted, and thewild whortleberries were far from sustaining. Fortunately therewas plenty of water flowing tinder the dark woods and along themountainside. But they were compelled to stop at intervals of anhour or two to rest, and the more timid continually expectedIndian ambush.

　　The five met shortly after noon and took another reckoning of thesituation. They still realized to the full the dangers of Indianpursuit, which in this case might be a mere matter of accident.Anybody could follow the broad trail left by the fugitives, butthe Iroquois, busy with destruction in the valley, might notfollow, even if they saw it. No one could tell. The danger ofstarvation or of death from exhaustion was more imminent, morepressing, and the five resolved to let scouting alone for therest of the day and seek game.

　　"There's bound to be a lot of it in these woods," said Shif'lessSol, "though it's frightened out of the path by our big crowd,but we ought to find it."

　　Henry and Shif'less Sol went in one direction, and Paul, Tom, andLong Jim in another. But with all their hunting they succeededin finding only one little deer, which fell to the rifle ofSilent Tom. It made small enough portions for the supper andbreakfast of nearly a hundred people, but it helped wonderfully,and so did the fires which Henry and his comrades would now havebuilt, even had they not been needed for the cooking. They sawthat light and warmth, the light and warmth of glowing coals,would alone rouse life in this desolate band.

　　They slept the second night on the ground among the trees, andthe next morning they entered that gloomy region of terriblememory, the Great Dismal Swamp of the North, known sometimes, tothis day, as "The Shades of Death."