CHAPTER VIII. WICKED FOLLY

It is beyond the power of words to describe the sensations which I experienced on learning that, instead of having advanced toward where it would be possible to obtain food, we had been going directly away from it.

What with the excitement of the battle and the flight, the fatigue of swimming and walking, and, above all, the wearing strain of anxiety as to the fate of our friends, I was no longer in a condition to fight against fate after receiving this last blow.

“It is better to die here in peace than struggle farther with the good chance of finally being tortured at the stake!” I exclaimed, throwing myself on the ground, and Giles March flung himself headlong beside me, as if it was no longer within his power to speak.

It was Master Bartlett who aroused us from the dangerous mood into which we were allowing ourselves to drift, and I afterward came to realize that, when we gave aid to him, we were but struggling to preserve the one who should save us from such a death as would have brought shame to our names, for he who ceases to fight simply because the odds are heavy against him is indeed a coward.

“I’m willing to grant, lads, that it looks as if we had fallen into hard lines,” the old man said, after giving Giles and me time in which to realize that we had the same as surrendered at a moment when our best efforts were needed. “The question is, however, whether you are willing to die here, as do the brutes, without reasoning, leaving our friends in the valley to call in vain for your services, or, if you can, as brave men should, fight against the weakness of your bodies so long as the last ounce of strength remains?”

“It is not possible for me to make my way through the thicket to the river,” I said, in despair. “When we set off all so boldly, I was well-nigh at the end of my rope, and now am I done up in good truth.”

“If that be the case, if you are indeed at the end of your strength, then is there nothing left but to meet death with a smile on your lips, as should a lad who bears the name of Ogden. It is not well to show the white feather at the last moment, when, as you have said, it is possible to die in peace,” Master Bartlett said, mockingly. “It will be time for me to surrender when I can no longer raise a hand toward helping myself, and, because I am yet able to keep on my feet, I count on fighting against fate many hours longer.”

Then the old man turned as if to go away, and I, shamed by his words, although not willing to admit it, asked in a whisper, as if it was no longer within my power to speak aloud:

“What are you about to do?”

“Look for food first, since that seems necessary before I can hope to push on much farther while my stomach makes such an outcry,” he said, cheerily, and I asked again:

“How will you find it here among the hills?”

“When I was a lad living on the frontier, not yet as old as you, powder was precious, and difficult to get, even when one had that with which to pay for it. Then it was possible to snare game sufficient to keep others besides myself from starvation, and I am counting on making the same effort now. If the Tories hold the river, I will live here until they have given over searching for fugitives, and then make my way across, where every man with life in his body is needed.”

As he said this, Giles March suddenly sprang to his feet, crying:

“We are not needing any more of a tongue-lashing, Master Bartlett. I am well ashamed of myself for having been so simple, and Jonathan Ogden is of the same mind. None save a fool would lie down to die when but a few miles separated him from his friends! Tell us what is to be done, and you will see that we can hold our own with you.”

It would have been strange indeed if I had not been stung into action by this time, and on the instant I stood beside Giles.

“Now are you true lads of the valley!” the old man cried, in delight. “I can well understand how much of despair came when we found ourselves back among the hills, and stronger men than you have made the same fatal mistake of yielding before the last ounce of strength has been spent. Now that you are come to your senses, let us decide upon what seems the best course, and then hold to it. We will begin by resting a bit, after which our heads will be the clearer.”

Then the old man threw himself down at the foot of a huge tree, and we lads followed his example, when he said, as if having forgotten our folly:

“Mayhap it was for the best that we got turned about. The Tories who chased us into Fort Ogden know that some of us who left the stockade yet remain on this side the river, and are doubtless hunting for us. We will have a better chance of getting across after four and twenty hours have passed, and shall then be in fair shape for whatsoever of a struggle may be necessary, if in the meantime we can pick up something to stay the gnawing in our stomachs.”

Then the old man began explaining how we might be able to snare such small game as rabbits among the mountains, and to speculate as to the possibility of catching a coon or a hedgehog, for anything in the way of meat would be welcomed by us, until my cheeks glowed red with shame because I, who called myself captain of the Minute Boys, had lacked the courage which he was showing.

While he was thus heartening, and at the same time covering us with confusion, we were startled by hearing a noise in the thicket as if a number of people were approaching, and straightway forgetting that I had so lately resigned myself to death, I drew my knife while creeping behind the tree, determined to sell life dearly, for there was no question in my mind but that the Tories were hunting us down.

Then, an instant later, I cried aloud in surprise, for Daniel Hinchman and his sister Esther came in view, and, before either of us could speak, we saw that they were followed by two women and as many children.

“How did you get here?” Giles cried, in joyful surprise, as he sprang forward to where Daniel was standing in open-mouthed astonishment.

“Esther and I left the stockade hand in hand,” Daniel said, when it was possible for him to speak. “She had refused to go with the women and children, and was waiting for me near the gate. We drifted down-stream clinging to a dead tree, until learning that the Tories were on the lookout for any who might have escaped the Indians, and then I took to this shore, for there was no other way open. We had no more than landed when we came across Mistress Morley and one of her neighbors, as you see. We were minded to make our way into the Pittstown stockades, but before travelling very far found that the savages were in the thicket close about, therefore turned back. How is it you are here?”

Giles told Daniel of our adventures, but without speaking of the cowardice he and I had shown, and wound up the story by saying, with the ghost of a smile on his lips:

“It looks much as if the Minute Boys had taken it into their heads to rendezvous here, and we need only wait in order to have so many of the company as are yet alive in line. Do you know if Elias Shendle came out of the fight?”

“I have seen nothing of him since that moment when the Indians poured in upon us,” Daniel replied, sadly.

The two women, hearing that we had halted because of weariness caused by lack of food, drew from the pockets of their dresses a small quantity of corn bread, which they had brought from the stockade that the children might not cry with hunger when silence was necessary for the safety of all, and urged that we eat it.

I looked shamefacedly at Giles for an instant, and then said, emphatically, inwardly resolving that never again would I complain of needing food:

“It would choke me to take bread from the mouths of babes. Keep what you have, Mistress Morley, lest the children be in worse plight than they are even now. Giles March and I are about to do what we may at snaring game of some kind, and if so be we can find means to kindle a fire, we’ll not long be hungry.”

With that, Mistress Morley drew from her pocket flint and steel, as she said with an effort at cheeriness:

“When we were making ready to leave the stockade, I had it in mind that these might be needed, and it only remains for Master Bartlett to find that which shall serve as tinder, in order for us to build as much of a fire as it may be safe to make.”

“If the women, who have children to care for, can hold their courage at such a time as this, then have you and I shown ourselves unfit ever to perform the duties of men,” Giles March said to me as we started out in search of game, and I replied, sorrowfully:

“Let us try to forget it, else we shall be unable to hold up our heads again. From this out I will never tell in Master Bartlett’s hearing of what I hope to do, lest he remind me of this time when I showed myself a fool as well as a coward.”

“There is yet time for us to wipe out the stain, and from this on will I welcome danger, however great, because of the chance to show Master Bartlett that it was our bodies, rather than our hearts, which gave way.”

Then, as if we had agreed to hold our peace regarding the folly, we spoke of it no more, but set about finding something which might serve as food.

There is no good reason why I should tell of the long search, or of our efforts to capture the coon which finally showed himself. It is enough to say that, within less than two hours from the time of setting out, we returned with meat enough for one meal, and had set a dozen or more snares, using trailing vines in the stead of twine.

When we were come to the big tree where our friends had halted, no one was to be seen, and a sickening fear came into my heart lest they had been taken by the Tory hunters; but, even as we stood looking with dismay into each other’s faces, Daniel Hinchman appeared before us.

“Master Bartlett has found what will serve as camp during such time as the women may be forced to stay here, and there it will be safe to build a fire that we may roast the meat.”

We went with him, arriving after a walk of five minutes at a sort of cave under a shelving rock, on the side of the mountain where, thanks to a thick screen of bushes, a party much larger than ours could remain hidden from view of any who might pass without making careful search.

Another night was come before we had satisfied our hunger, and then once more did I feel able to do my full share of the work necessary for the defence of the valley, if so be we might get across the river.

Master Bartlett, mindful of others rather than himself, had gathered fir-tips and leaves in sufficient quantity to form beds for the little ones, who fell asleep as soon as they had eaten, and now he was making ready to take some rest.

“I am thinking that this refuge is safer than Forty Fort, unless it so chance the Congress begins to understand how sore is our need,” Daniel Hinchman began, as if he had something more in mind, and Master Bartlett replied, sleepily:

“Ay, lad, there is little chance either Tory or Indian will come thus far among the mountains in search of victims, and here we may remain in safety until such time as it is possible to cross the river.”

“If more of food could be had, I would rather Esther stayed here than to go farther in search of what may not be found in our valley for many days,” Daniel continued, and Master Bartlett, rising on his elbow, asked, sharply:

“Tell us what it is you have in mind, lad, and without so much beating about the bush.”

“How far think you it may be from here to the river?” Daniel asked, without answering the question.

“Not above five miles at the most.”

“Then it is in my mind to set off at once, leaving you here. If matters on the other side of the river are as they should be, it will not cost much labor to come back for the party, while, if the danger has increased,—meaning if the enemy is attacking Forty Fort,—the women and children had better be here than there.”

“You are in the right, Daniel Hinchman, and both Jonathan Ogden and I will go with you,” Giles March cried, quickly. “Master Bartlett shall stay to look after the women; he should be able to find where we have set our snares, and I am counting that by morning he will have a fresh supply of meat.”

I fully expected to hear the old man make some outcry against such a plan; but he held his peace, as if well content we should do as Daniel had suggested, and there was nothing to prevent us from setting off at once.

“Look well about you before venturing to cross the river,” Master Bartlett called, as we walked away, and a moment later we were stumbling along through the thicket, unable to distinguish with our eyes even the trees directly in our path.

We walked in single file, each fellow striving to keep the others on a straight course, and had gone no more than half a mile from the place of refuge, when a low moan, coming from a clump of bushes directly in front of us, caused a sudden halt.

There was no fear the noise could have been made by an enemy in the hope of tricking us, for, without weapons as we were, our capture or death might readily have been compassed, and I, who chanced just at that time to be in the advance, asked in a low tone:

“Who is there?”

“A lad by name of Samuel Rogers,” was the reply.

I was overwhelmed with surprise, for he was one of the two lads who had left the stockade to go out hunting, and was supposed to have escaped by crossing the river when the Indians captured John Coburn and Oscar Stephenson.

In a twinkling we were by his side, where he lay in a dense thicket, and, before making any effort to learn if he was hurt, I cried:

“How did you get here? We believed that you escaped into the Pittstown stockades.”

“So I did,” was the reply; “but when the men there made ready to go to Forty Fort, knowing they were all too weak to hold the place in case an attack was made, I did my best to rejoin you, and was come to the shore opposite Fort Jenkins when the retreat began. Then I kept on, thinking to cross from Wilkesbarre, where likely a canoe could be found; but stumbled upon a party of Tories near Fort Ogden, and, while taking to my heels, was shot through the leg. I gave them the slip, however, but had just come to believe I should die here like a dog, for verily I can go no farther.”

“He has his musket and ammunition!” Giles March cried, joyfully, as he came upon the gun by chance. “Now there need be no fear those whom we have left behind will starve while we are away!”

In few words I told Samuel why we were there, and then, as a matter of course, we set about getting him back to the cave.

It was a long, difficult task to carry the wounded lad back through the thicket; but we succeeded after a time, and surely it seemed as if God was with us, for we came out at the big tree without making a turn, which was more than I would have believed possible even in the daytime, when we might see the landmarks.

“We’ll hope you find more of the company on this side the river, though not in such sore straits,” Master Bartlett said, when aroused from his slumber as we entered the cave. “The women and I will look after his hurts, so you need not linger here.”

“This shall be left, so you may not lack for food,” and Giles thrust the musket and horns into the old man’s hands, after which we hurried away lest he should insist that we take the weapon for our better protection.

There was a song of thanksgiving in my heart when we set our faces once more in the direction of where we believed the river could be found, and there was good reason for rejoicing, because, except for our troubles, Sam Rogers would have suffered a lingering death alone in the thicket.

“It’s a good omen,” Daniel Hinchman said, in a tone of satisfaction. “We shall succeed in what we are undertaking, and mayhap yet be able to give aid to those who are in sore need.”

Heartened by the knowledge that we had, perhaps, been the means of saving a comrade’s life, we pushed on with more confidence, and it could not have been much past midnight when we arrived on the bank of the river, having neither seen nor heard anything betokening danger during the blind march.

“Because of having no muskets, we shall not be hampered in the swimming,” Giles March said, as we stood at the edge of the water to regain breath before breasting the current, and no better evidence was needed that he had gotten back his courage than that he could find cause for rejoicing when we would be defenceless on arriving at the opposite bank.

There is little need to say that we listened to make sure there were no boats between us and our goal before wading down into the water, and then all our wits and strength were needed to take us across against the strong current.

With one to aid the other, the passage was made after such exertion as left us unable to do more than crawl out of the water, and then it was necessary to lie at full-length on the bank a good half-hour before being able to set off in search of Forty Fort.

It was daylight before we were come to the end of our journey, and then our hearts were made glad indeed, for at the stockade we found six of our company safe and sound, they having been able to avoid the Tories who were in search of victims; but, alas, Elias Shendle was not among them.

Here, also, was Master Morley, and his joy can be imagined when we told him that his wife and two children were yet alive, comparatively safe.

We did not spend much time in listening to stories of escape; it was necessary we learn what might be the situation in order to send word back to Master Bartlett, and before coming to an end of gathering information our hearts were heavy with forebodings.

Counting old men, and small boys who could fire a musket, but without much idea of taking aim, there were not above three hundred who could be mustered from all the stockades, and these were talking boldly of giving battle to John Butler’s force, thinking it would be possible to take him and his men by surprise.

When I first heard such talk made it seemed certain those who spoke were making sport of me; but before we had been inside the stockade half an hour, Daniel Hinchman sought me out to say:

“It is true, Jonathan Ogden, that these people really count on marching against Wintermoot’s. Colonel Zebulon Butler is arguing against it as best he may, and five officers who have just come from New Jersey are saying all they can to prevent this apology for an army from marching to certain death. I pray that you go among the reckless ones, telling them what you know of John Butler’s strength, and whether there be any chance that it is possible to take him by surprise.”

Then it was, before I could make reply, that Colonel Zebulon Butler himself came up, and asked, looking at me:

“Are you the lad who commands the Minute Boys?”

“I held the position of captain, sir, before we were driven out of Fort Jenkins, and now am I at a loss to say whether there is any longer a company which may be called Minute Boys.”

“But you know somewhat of the doings in and around Wintermoot’s, and can make a good guess as to how many of the enemy may be there?”

“Ay, sir, and so can Master Morley, Giles March, or Daniel Hinchman.”

“Will you tell these hot-heads what you have seen, and set your comrades at the same task?”

As he asked, so we did, moving here and there, wherever we saw a number of men or boys gathered, and giving our story loudly, without waiting for an invitation to join in the conversation; but words were of no avail. Those who did not the same as accuse us of telling of that which was untrue, claimed that we had been frightened out of our wits, and mistook a handful of savages for an entire army.

“It is of no use,” I said to Master Morley, after a time, when we were come together by chance. “Verily, it seems as if the people had gone mad! The more we say the stronger is their determination to give battle—”

“Ay, lad, that has already been put to vote, and despite the entreaties of the officers from the army, it is decided to leave here at one o’clock.”

I cried out in anger and grief, heedless of what I said, and one of those men whose voice had been loudest for an immediate advance, although he was a cripple who had never taken a step without his crutches for more than five years, called me a coward, declaring that we Minute Boys had no sooner seen the feathers of an Indian than we beat a retreat.

“Do not make reply,” Master Morley said as he led me away by main strength, for I was minded to call upon my comrades to bear me out in the story I had told. “Though an hundred were to repeat what we have said, and there were a dozen lifeless bodies here as proof, such pig-heads as that fellow would still declare they knew better than any other. At one o’clock we shall march out to our death, and the women and children whom we leave behind will be at the mercy of those ravening wolves. Thank God, my dear ones are not on this side of the river!”

“Then you will go, knowing that we have no possible show of winning the battle?” I asked, and Master Morley replied, stoutly:

“That is my duty, lad. Because these people are fools, is no reason why we can remain idle when all in the valley march forth to battle.”

Until this moment I had not realized that those of us who had escaped from Fort Jenkins must march back, even as those at Wintermoot’s would have us do; but now I understood what our duty was, and as soon as might be did I call Giles and Daniel to where Master Morley and I stood.

“Some one must go back to where Master Bartlett is in hiding,” I said sharply, for it was already so near noon that there was no time for argument, and I counted on their taking my words as a command. “There are weapons and ammunition here in plenty, and he who goes to carry the word of the folly to be done this day must take with him a full load, so that those who are alive to-morrow morning will have that with which to procure food, or defend themselves.”

Neither of the lads questioned as to whether we were bound to go with the foolish ones; both seemed to believe as did Master Morley, that we could not hold back even while knowing how fatal such a move would be; but Giles March said:

“Who is to go back?”

“You, if you will,” I replied quickly, wronging the lad by fancying it would give him pleasure to thus avoid the danger.

“Not me!” he cried, shrilly. “I will not have it said that I was too much of a coward to follow yonder party of cripples.”

I looked at Daniel questioningly; but he shook his head as he said:

“My reason is the same as that given by Giles March.”

“Draw lots for it,” Master Morley suggested, “and then it can be said that he who goes does so against his will.”

In order that the matter might be settled without further delay, I broke off four twigs, saying as I concealed them in my hand:

“He who draws the shortest will set out at once, and give his word to remain with those at the cave till this day’s bloody work has come to an end, or John Butler has worked his will on the valley.”

“They are not for me,” Master Morley said sharply, when I held the twigs toward him. “I am not bound to you, lads, and therefore do not take chances with you. Besides,” he added, as a new thought came to him, “I have no knowledge of where the hiding-place may be, and could not find it.”

Without parleying I threw one of the twigs away, and held the remainder toward Giles. He drew quickly; Daniel took the second, and the third remained in my hand.

We held up the twigs that all might see, and it was Daniel Hinchman who had the shortest.

One would have thought he had missed a great prize, instead of having been saved from much the same as death, for his face paled, and he turned away quickly, as if to hide a tear.

“Do not lose any time in setting out,” I said, again sharply, lest he plead to remain. “Take at least two muskets, and let the remainder of your burden be made up of ammunition. If it so chance that either of us three be left alive and free when this day’s work is done, we will join you at the cave. It seems to me well you and Master Bartlett should be on the watch for fugitives, beginning at sunset, for some of these people must escape death, and perhaps gain the opposite shore.”

“I will go to find a boat, so that he may set himself across the river, without danger of wetting the powder,” Giles March said, as he hurried away, and Master Morley and I went with Daniel to make certain he got that which was so sorely needed by those in hiding.