Chapter XXIII. The Final Fight

by Joseph A. Altsheler

　　Shif'less Sol and Tom Ross were also looking under the mats, andthe three would have recognized those figures anywhere. Thetaller was Timmendiquas, the other Thayendanegea. The thin lightfrom the window fell upon their faces, and Henry saw that bothwere sad. Haughty and proud they were still, but each bore thelook that comes only from continued defeat and greatdisappointment. It is truth to say that the concealed threewatched them with a curiosity so intense that all thought oftheir own risk was forgotten. To Henry, as well as his comrades,these two were the greatest of all Indian chiefs.

　　The White Lightning of the Wyandots and the Joseph Brant of theMohawks stood for a space side by side, gazing out of the window,taking a last look at the great Seneca Castle. It wasThayendanegea who spoke first, using Wyandot, which Henryunderstood.

　　"Farewell, my brother, great chief of the Wyandots," he said."You have come far with your warriors, and you have been by ourside in battle. The Six Nations owe you much. You have helpedus in victory, and you have not deserted us in defeat. You arethe greatest of warriors, the boldest in battle, and the mostskillful."

　　Timmendiquas made a deprecatory gesture, but Thayendanegea wenton:

　　"I speak but the truth, great chief of the Wyandots. We owe youmuch, and some day we may repay. Here the Bostonians crowd ushard, and the Mohawks may yet fight by your side to save your ownhunting grounds."

　　"It is true," said Timmendiquas. "There, too, we' must fight theAmericans."

　　"Victory was long with us here," said Thayendanegea, "but therebels have at last brought an army against us, and the king whopersuaded us to make war upon the Americans adds nothing to thehelp that he has given us already. Our white allies were thefirst to run at the Chemung, and now the Iroquois country, solarge and so beautiful, is at the mercy of the invader. Weperish. In all the valleys our towns lie in ashes. The Americanarmy will come to-morrow, and this, the great Seneca Castle, thelast of our strongholds, will also sink under the flames. I knownot how our people will live through the Winter that is yet tocome. Aieroski has turned his face from us."

　　But Timmendiquas spoke words of courage and hope.

　　"The Six Nations will regain their country," he said. "The greatLeague of the Ho-de-no-sau-nee, which has been victorious for somany generations, cannot be destroyed. All the tribes from hereto the Mississippi will help, and will press down upon thesettlements. I will return to stir them anew, and the Britishposts will give us arms and ammunition."

　　The light of defiance shone once more in the eyes ofThayendanegea.

　　"You raise my spirits again," he said. "We flee now, but weshall come back again. The Ho-de-no-saunee can never submit. Wewill ravage all their settlements, and burn and destroy. We willmake a wilderness where they have been. The king and his menwill yet give us more help."

　　Part of his words came true, and the name of the raidingThayendanegea was long a terror, but the Iroquois, who hadrefused the requested neutrality, had lost their Country forever,save such portions as the victor in the end chose to offer tothem.

　　"And now, as you and your Wyandots depart within the half hour, Igive you a last farewell," said Thayendanegea.

　　The hands of the two great chiefs met in a clasp like that of thewhite man, and then Timmendiquas abruptly left the Council House,shutting the door behind him. Thayendanegea lingered a while atthe window, and the look of sadness returned to his face. Henrycould read many of the thoughts that were passing through theMohawk's proud mind.

　　Thayendanegea was thinking of his great journey to London, of thepower and magnificence that he had seen, of the pride and gloryof the Iroquois, of the strong and numerous Tory faction led bySir John Johnson, the half brother of the children of MollyBrant, Thayendanegea's own sister, of the Butlers and all theothers who had said that the rebels would be easy to conquer. Heknew better now, he had long known better, ever since thatdreadful battle in the dark defile of the Oriskany, when thePalatine Germans, with old Herkimer at their head, beat theTories, the English, and the Iroquois, and made the taking ofBurgoyne possible. The Indian chieftain was a statesman, and itmay be that from this moment he saw that the cause of both theIroquois and their white allies was doomed. PresentlyThayendanegea left the window, walking slowly toward the door.He paused there a moment or two, and then went out, closing itbehind him, as Timmendiquas had done. The three did not speakuntil several minutes after he had gone.

　　"I don't believe," said Henry, "that either of them thinks,despite their brave words, that the Iroquois can ever win backagain."

　　"Serves 'em right," said Tom Ross. "I remember what I saw atWyoming."

　　"Whether they kin do it or not," said the practical Sol, "it'stime for us to git out o' here, an' go back to our men."

　　"True words, Sol," said Henry, "and we'll go."

　　Examining first at the window and then through the door, openedslightly, they saw that the Iroquois village bad become quiet.The preparations for departure had probably ceased until morning.Forth stole the three, passing swiftly among the houses, going,with silent foot toward the orchard. An old squaw, carrying abundle from a house, saw them, looked sharply into their faces,and knew them to be white. She threw down her bundle with afierce, shrill scream, and ran, repeating the scream as she ran.

　　Indians rushed out, and with them Braxton Wyatt and his band.Wyatt caught a glimpse of a tall figure, with two others, one oneach side, running toward the orchard, and he knew it. Hate andthe hope to capture or kill swelled afresh. He put a whistle tohis lip and blew shrilly. It was a signal to his band, and theycame from every point, leading the pursuit.

　　Henry heard the whistle, and he was quite sure that it was Wyattwho had made the sound. A single glance backward confirmed him.He knew Wyatt's figure as well as Wyatt knew his, and the darkmass with him was certainly composed of his own men. The otherIndians and Tories, in all likelihood, would turn back soon, andthat fact would give him the chance he wished.

　　They were clear of the town now, running lightly through theorchard, and Shif'less Sol suggested that they enter the woods atonce.

　　"We can soon dodge 'em thar in the dark," he said.

　　"We don't want to dodge 'em," said Henry.

　　The shiftless one was surprised, but when he glanced at Henry'sface he understood.

　　"You want to lead 'em on an' to a fight?" he said.

　　Henry nodded.

　　"Glad you thought uv it," said Shif'less Sol.

　　They crossed the very corn field through which they had come,Braxton Wyatt and his band in full cry after them. Several shotswere fired, but the three kept too far ahead for any sort ofmarksmanship, and they were not touched. When they finallyentered the woods they curved a little, and then, keeping justfar enough ahead to be within sight, but not close enough for thebullets, Henry led them straight toward the camp of the riflemen.As he approached, he fired his own rifle, and uttered the longshout of the forest runner. He shouted a second time, and nowShif'less Sol and Tom Ross joined in the chorus, their great crypenetrating far through the woods.

　　Whether Braxton Wyatt or any of his mixed band of Indians andTories suspected the meaning of those great shouts Henry neverknew, but the pursuit came on with undiminished speed. There wasa good silver moon now, shedding much light, and he saw Wyattstill in the van, with his Tory lieutenant close behind, andafter them red men and white, spreading out like a fan to inclosethe fugitives in a trap. The blood leaped in his veins. It wasa tide of fierce joy. He had achieved both of the purposes forwhich he had come. He had thoroughly scouted the Seneca Castle,and he was about to come to close quarters with Braxton Wyatt andthe band which he had made such a terror through the valleys.

　　Shif'less Sol saw the face of his young comrade, and he wasstartled. He had never before beheld it so stern, so resolute,and so pitiless. He seemed to remember as one single, fearfulpicture all the ruthless and terrible scenes of the last year.Henry uttered again that cry which was at once a defiance and asignal, and from the forest ahead of him it was answered, signalfor signal. The riflemen were coming, Paul, Long Jim, andHeemskerk at their head. They uttered a mighty cheer as they sawthe flying three, and their ranks opened to receive them. Fromthe Indians and Tories came the long whoop of challenge, andevery one in either band knew that the issue was now about to besettled by battle, and by battle alone. They used all thetactics of the forest. Both sides instantly dropped down amongthe trees and undergrowth, three or four hundred yards apart, andfor a few moments there was no sound save heavy breathing, heardonly by those who lay close by. Not a single human being wouldhave been visible to an ordinary eye there in the moonlight,which tipped boughs and bushes with ghostly silver. Yet no areaso small ever held a greater store of resolution and deadlyanimosity. On one side were the riflemen, nearly every one ofwhom had slaughtered kin to mourn, often wives and littlechildren, and on the other the Tories and Iroquois, about to losetheir country, and swayed by the utmost passions of hate andrevenge.

　　"Spread out," whispered Henry. "Don't give them a chance toflank us. You, Sol, take ten men and go to the right, and you,Heemskerk, take ten and go to the left."

　　"It is well," whispered Heemskerk. "You have a great head,Mynheer Henry."

　　Each promptly obeyed, but the larger number of the riflemenremained in the center, where Henry knelt, with Paul and Long Jimon one side of him, and Silent Tom on the other. When he thoughtthat the two flanking parties had reached the right position, heuttered a low whistle, and back came two low whistles, signalsthat all was ready. Then the line began its slow advance,creeping forward from tree to tree and from bush to bush. Henryraised himself up a little, but he could not yet see anythingwhere the hostile force lay hidden. They went a little farther,and then all lay down again to look.

　　Tom Ross had not spoken a word, but none was more eager than he.He was almost flat upon the ground, and he had been pullinghimself along by a sort of muscular action of his whole body.Now he was so still that he did not seem to breathe. Yet hiseyes, uncommonly eager now, were searching the thickets ahead.They rested at last on a spot of brown showing through somebushes, and, raising his rifle, he fired with sure aim. TheIroquois uttered his death cry, sprang up convulsively, and thenfell back prone. Shots were fired in return, and a dozenriflemen replied to them. The battle was joined.

　　They heard Braxton Wyatt's whistle, the challenging war cry ofthe Iroquois, and then they fought in silence, save for the crackof the rifles. The riflemen continued to advance in slow,creeping fashion, always pressing the enemy. Every time theycaught sight of a hostile face or body they sent a bullet at it,and Wyatt's men did the same. The two lines came closer, and allalong each there were many sharp little jets of fire and smoke.Some of the riflemen were wounded, and two were slain, dyingquietly and without interrupting their comrades, who continued topress the combat, Henry always leading in the center, andShif'less Sol and Heemskerk on the flanks.

　　This battle so strange, in which faces were seen only for amoment, and which was now without the sound of voices, continuedwithout a moment's cessation in the dark forest. The fury of thecombatants increased as the time went on, and neither side wasyet victorious. Closer and closer came the lines. Meanwhiledark clouds were piling in a bank in the southwest. Slow thunderrumbled far away, and the sky was cut at intervals by lightning.But the combatants did not notice the heralds of storm. Theirattention was only for each other.

　　It seemed to Henry that emotions and impulses in him hadculminated. Before him were the worst of all their foes, and hispitiless resolve was not relaxed a particle. The thunder and thelightning, although he did not notice them, seemed to act uponhim as an incitement, and with low words he continually urgedthose about him to push the battle.

　　Drops of rain fell, showing in the moonshine like beads of silveron boughs and twigs, but by and by the smoke from the rifle fire,pressed down by the heavy atmosphere, gathered among the trees,and the moon was partly hidden. But file combat did not relaxbecause of the obscurity. Wandering Indians, hearing the firing,came to Wyatt's relief, but, despite their aid, he was compelledto give ground. His were the most desperate and hardened men,red and white, in all the allied forces, but they were faced bysharpshooters better than themselves. Many of them were alreadykilled, others were wounded, and, although Wyatt and Colemanraged and strove to hold them, they began to give back, and sohard pressed were they that the Iroquois could not perform thesacred duty of carrying off their dead. No one sought to carryaway the Tories, who lay with the rain, that had now begun tofall, beating upon them.

　　So much had the riflemen advanced that they came to the pointwhere bodies of their enemies lay. Again that fierce joy surgedup in Henry's heart. His friends and he were winning. But hewished to do more than win. This band, if left alone, wouldmerely flee from the Seneca Castle before the advance of thearmy, and would still exist to ravage and slay elsewhere.

　　"Keep on, Tom! Keep on!" he cried to Ross and the others."Never let them rest!"

　　"We won't! We ain't dreamin' o' doin' sech a thing," replied theredoubtable one as he loaded and fired. "Thar, I got another!"

　　The Iroquois, yielding slowly at first, began now to give wayfaster. Some sought to dart away to right or left, and burythemselves in the forest, but they were caught by the flankingparties of Shif'less Sol and Heemskerk, and driven back on thecenter. They could not retreat except straight on the town, andthe riflemen followed them step for step. The moan of thedistant thunder went on, and the soft rain fell, but the deadlycrackle of the rifles formed a sharper, insistent note thatclaimed the whole attention of both combatants.

　　It was now the turn of the riflemen to receive help. Twenty ormore scouts and others abroad in the forest were called by therifle fire, and went at once into the battle. Then Wyatt washelped a second time by a band of Senecas and Mohawks, but,despite all the aid, they could not withstand the riflemen.Wyatt, black with fury and despair, shouted to them and sometimescursed or even struck at them, but the retreat could not bestopped. Men fell fast. Every one of the riflemen was asharpshooter, and few bullets missed.

　　Wyatt was driven out of the forest and into the very corn fieldthrough which Henry had passed. Here the retreat became faster,and, with shouts of triumph, the riflemen followed after. Wyattlost some men in the flight through the field, but when he cameto the orchard, having the advantage of cover, he made anotherdesperate stand.

　　But Shif'less Sol and Heemskerk took the band on the flanks,pouring in a destructive fire, and Wyatt, Coleman, and a fourthof his band, all that survived, broke into a run for the town.

　　The riflemen uttered shout after shout of triumph, and it wasimpossible to restrain their pursuit. Henry would have stoppedhere, knowing the danger of following into the town, especiallywhen the army was near at band with an irresistible force, but hecould not stay them. He decided then that if they would chargeit must be done with the utmost fire and spirit.

　　"On, men! On!" he cried. "Give them no chance to take cover."

　　Shif'less Sol and Heemskerk wheeled in with the flanking parties,and the riflemen, a solid mass now, increased the speed ofpursuit. Wyatt and his men had no chance to turn and fire, oreven to reload. Bullets beat upon them as they fled, and hereperished nearly all of that savage band. Wyatt, Coleman, andonly a half dozen made good the town, where a portion of theIroquois who had not yet fled received them. But the exultantriflemen did not stop even there. They were hot on the heels ofWyatt and the fugitives, and attacked at once the Iroquois whocame to their relief. So fierce was their rush that these newforces were driven back at once. Braxton Wyatt, Coleman, and adozen more, seeing no other escape, fled to a large log houseused as a granary, threw themselves into it, barred the doorsheavily, and began to fire from the upper windows, small openingsusually closed with boards. Other Indians from the covert ofhouse, tepee, or tree, fired upon the assailants, and a freshbattle began in the town.

　　The riflemen, directed by their leaders, met the new situationpromptly. Fired upon from all sides, at least twenty rushed intoa house some forty yards from that of Braxton Wyatt. Othersseized another house, while the rest remained outside, shelteredby little outhouses, trees, or inequalities of the earth, andmaintained rapid sharpshooting in reply to the Iroquois in thetown or to Braxton Wyatt's men in the house. Now the combatbecame fiercer than ever. The warriors uttered yells, andWyatt's men in the house sent forth defiant shouts. From anotherpart of the town came shrill cries of old squaws, urging on theirfighting men.

　　It was now about four o'clock in the morning. The thunder andlightning had ceased, but the soft rain was still falling. TheIndians had lighted fires some distance away. Several carriedtorches. Helped by these, and, used so long to the night, thecombatants saw distinctly. The five lay behind a low embankment,and they paid their whole attention to the big house thatsheltered Wyatt and his men. On the sides and behind they wereprotected by Heemskerk and others, who faced a coming swarm.

　　"Keep low, Paul," said Henry, restraining his eager comrade."Those fellows in the house can shoot, and we don't want to loseyou. There, didn't I tell you!"

　　A bullet fired from the window passed through the top of Paul'scap, but clipped only his hair. Before the flash from the windowpassed, Long Jim fired in return, and something fell back inside.Bullets came from other windows. Shif'less Sol fired, and aSeneca fell forward banging half out of the window, his nakedbody a glistening brown in the firelight. But he hung only a fewseconds. Then he fell to the ground and lay still. The fivecrouched low again, waiting a new opportunity. Behind them, andon either side, they heard the crash of the new battle andchallenging cries.

　　Braxton Wyatt, Coleman, four more Tories, and six Indians werestill alive in the strong log house. Two or three were wounded,but they scarcely noticed it in the passion of conflict. Thehouse was a veritable fortress, and the renegade's hopes rosehigh as he heard the rifle fire from different parts of the town.His own band had been annihilated by the riflemen, led by HenryWare, but he had a sanguine hope now that his enemies had rushedinto a trap. The Iroquois would turn back and destroy them.

　　Wyatt and his comrades presented a repellent sight as theycrouched in the room and fired from the two little windows. Hisclothes and those of the white men had been torn by bushes andbriars in their flight, and their faces had been raked, too,until they bled, but they had paid no attention to such wounds,and the blood was mingled with sweat and powder smoke. TheIndians, naked to the waist, daubed with vermilion, and streaked,too, with blood, crouched upon the floor, with the muz'zles oftheir rifles at the windows, seeking something human to kill.One and all, red and white, they were now raging savages, Therewas not one among them who did not have some foul murder of womanor child to his credit.

　　Wyatt himself was mad for revenge. Every evil passion in him wasup and leaping. His eyes, more like those of a wild animal thana human being, blazed out of a face, a mottled red and black. Bythe side of him the dark Tory, Coleman, was driven by impulsesfully as fierce.

　　"To think of it!" exclaimed Wyatt. "He led us directly into atrap, that Ware! And here our band is destroyed! All the goodmen that we gathered together, except these few, are killed!"

　　"But we may pay them back," said Coleman. "We were in theirtrap, but now they are in ours! Listen to that firing and thewar whoop! There are enough Iroquois yet in the town to killevery one of those rebels!"

　　"I hope so! I believe so!" exclaimed Wyatt. "Look out, Coleman!Ah, he's pinked you! That's the one they call Shif'less Sol, andhe's the best sharpshooter of them all except Ware!"

　　Coleman had leaned forward a little in his anxiety to secure agood aim at something. He had disclosed only a little of hisface, but in an instant a bullet had seared his forehead like theflaming stroke of a sword, passing on and burying itself in thewall. Fresh blood dripped down over his face. He tore a stripfrom the inside of his coat, bound it about his head, and went onwith the defense.

　　A Mohawk, frightfully painted, fired from the other window. Likea flash came the return shot, and the Indian fell back in theroom, stone dead, with a bullet through his bead.

　　"That was Ware himself," said Wyatt. "I told you he was the bestshot of them all. I give him that credit. But they're all good.Look out! There goes another of our men! It was Ross who didthat! I tell you, be careful! Be careful!"

　　It was an Onondaga who fell this time, and he lay with his headon the window sill until another Indian pulled him inside. Aminute later a Tory, who peeped guardedly for a shot, received abullet through his head, and sank down on the floor. A sort ofterror spread among the others. What could they do in the faceof such terrible sharpshooting? It was uncanny, almostsuperhuman, and they looked stupidly at one another. Smoke fromtheir own firing had gathered in the room, and it formed aghastly veil about their faces. They heard the crash of therifles outside from every point, but no help came to them.

　　"We're bound to do something!" exclaimed Wyatt. "Here you,Jones, stick up the edge of your cap, and when they fire at itI'll put a bullet in the man who pulls the trigger."

　　Jones thrust up his cap, but they knew too much out there to betaken in by an old trick. The cap remained unhurt, but whenJones in his eagerness thrust it higher until he exposed his arm,his wrist was smashed in an instant by a bullet, and he fell backwith a howl of pain. Wyatt swore and bit his lips savagely. Heand all of them began to fear that they were in another andtighter trap, one from which there was no escape unless theIroquois outside drove off the riflemen, and of that they couldas yet see no sign. The sharpshooters held their place behindthe embankment and the little outhouse, and so little as afinger, even, at the windows became a sure mark for theirterrible bullets. A Seneca, seeking a new trial for a shot,received a bullet through the shoulder, and a Tory who followedhim in the effort was slain outright.

　　The light hitherto had been from the fires, but now the dawn wascoming. Pale gray beams fell over the town, and then deepenedinto red and yellow. The beams reached the room where thebeleaguered remains of Wyatt's band fought, but, mingling withthe smoke, they gave a new and more ghastly tint to the desperatefaces.

　　"We've got to fight!" exclaimed Wyatt. "We can't sit here and betaken like beasts in a trap! Suppose we unbar the doors belowand make a rush for it?"

　　Coleman shook his head. "Every one of us would be killed withintwenty yards," he said.

　　"Then the Iroquois must come back," cried Wyatt. "Where is JoeBrant? Where is Timmendiquas, and where is that coward, Sir JohnJohnson? Will they come?"

　　"They won't come," said Coleman.

　　They lay still awhile, listening to the firing in the town, whichswayed hither and thither. The smoke in the room thinnedsomewhat, and the daylight broadened and deepened. As adesperate resort they resumed fire from the windows, but threemore of their number were slain, and, bitter with chagrin, theycrouched once more on the floor out of range. Wyatt looked atthe figures of the living and the dead. Savage despair tore athis heart again, and his hatred of those who bad done thisincreased. It was being served out to him and his band as theyhad served it out to many a defenseless family in the beautifulvalleys of the border. Despite the sharpshooters, he tookanother look at the window, but kept so far back that there wasno chance for a shot.

　　"Two of them are slipping away," he exclaimed. "They are Rossand the one they call Long Jim! I wish I dared a shot! Nowthey're gone!"

　　They lay again in silence for a time. There was still firing inthe town, and now and then they heard shouts. Wyatt looked athis lieutenant, and his lieutenant looked at him.

　　"Yours is the ugliest face I ever saw," said Wyatt.

　　"I can say the same of yours-as I can't see mine," said Coleman.

　　The two gazed once more at the hideous, streaked, and grimedfaces of each other, and then laughed wildly. A wounded Senecasitting with his back against the wall began to chant a low,wailing death song.

　　"Shut up! Stop that infernal noise!" exclaimed Wyatt savagely.

　　The Seneca stared at him with fixed, glassy eyes and continuedhis chant. Wyatt turned away, but that song was upon his nerves.He knew that everything was lost. The main force of the Iroquoiswould not come back to his help, and Henry Ware would triumph.He sat down on the floor, and muttered fierce words under hisbreath.

　　"Hark!" suddenly exclaimed Coleman. "What is that?"

　　A low crackling sound came to their ears, and both recognized itinstantly. It was the sound of flames eating rapidly into wood,and of that wood was built the house they now held. Even as theylistened they could hear the flames leap and roar into new andlarger life.

　　"This is, what those two, Ross and Hart, were up to!" exclaimedWyatt. "We're not only trapped, but we're to be burned alive inour trap!"

　　"Not I," said Coleman, "I'm goin' to make a rush for it."

　　"It's the only thing to be done," said Wyatt. "Come, all of youthat are left!"

　　The scanty survivors gathered around him, all but the woundedSeneca, who sat unmoved against the wall and continued to chanthis death chant. Wyatt glanced at him, but said nothing. Thenhe and the others rushed down the stairs.

　　The lower room was filled with smoke, and outside the flames wereroaring. They unbarred the door and sprang into the open air. Ashower of bullets met them. The Tory, Coleman, uttered a chokingcry, threw up his arms, and fell back in the doorway. BraxtonWyatt seized one of the smaller men, and, holding him a moment ortwo before him to receive the fire of his foe, dashed for thecorner of the blazing building. The man whom he held was slain,and his own shoulder was grazed twice, but he made the corner.In an instant he put the burning building between him and hispursuers, and ran as he had never run before in all his life,deadly fear putting wings on his heels. As he ran he heard thedull boom of a cannon, and he knew that tile American army wasentering the Seneca Castle. Ahead of him he saw the last of theIndians fleeing for the woods, and behind him the burning housecrashed and fell in amid leaping flames and sparks in myriads.He alone had escaped from the house.