The Hidden Children

"Yes," I said, awed.

She stood resting her arm on mine to support her, closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked at me. And in her eyes I saw her heart was breaking as she stood there.

"Lana! Lanette! Little comrade! What is this dreadful thing that crushes you? Could you not tell me?" I whispered.

"Ask him, Euan."

"Lana, why will you not marry him, if you love him so?"

She shuddered and closed her eyes.

Neither of us spoke again. Lois, watching us, came slowly toward us, and linked her arm in Lana's.

"Our batteau is waiting," she said quietly.

I continued to preserve my spirits as we walked together down to the shore where Mrs. Sabin stood glaring at me, then turned her broad back and waddled across the planks.

Lana followed; Lois clung a second to my hands, smiling still; then I released her and she sprang lightly aboard.

And now batteau after batteau swung out into the stream, and all in line dropped slowly down the river, pole and paddle flashing, kerchiefs fluttering.

For a long way I could see the boat that carried Lois gliding in the channel close along shore, and the escort following along the bank above, with the sunshine glancing on their slanting rifles. Then a bend in the river hid them; and I turned away and walked slowly toward the fort.

By the gate my Indians were waiting. The Sagamore had my pack and rifle for me. On the rifle-platform above, the soldiers of the garrison stood looking down at us.

And now I heard the short, ringing word of command, and out of the gate marched our twenty riflemen, Boyd striding lightly ahead.

Then, as he set foot on the log bridge, I saw Dolly Glenn standing there, confronting him, blocking his way, her arms extended and her eyes fixed on him.

"Are you mad?" he said curtly.

"If you go," she retorted unsteadily, "leaving me behind you here—unwedded—God will punish you."

The column had came to a halt. There was a dead silence on parapet and parade while three hundred pair of eyes watched those two there on the bridge of logs.

"Dolly, you are mad!" he said, with the angry colour flashing in his face and staining throat and brow.

"Will you do me justice before you go?"

"Will you stand aside?" he said between his teeth.

"Yes—I will stand aside.... And may you remember me when you burn at the last reckoning with God!"

"'Tention! Trail arms! By the left flank—march!" he cried, his voice trembling with rage.

The shuffling velvet tread of his riflemen fell on the bridge; and they passed, rifles at a trail, and fringes blowing in the freshening breeze.

Without a word I fell in behind. After me loped my Indians in perfect silence.

CHAPTER XVII

THE BATTLE OF CHEMUNG

Toward sundown we hailed our bullock guard below the ruins of Old Chemung, and passed forward through the army to the throat of the pass, where the Rifles lay.

The artillery was already in a sorry mess, nine guns stalled and an ammunition wagon overturned in the ford. And I heard the infantry cursing the drivers and saying that we had lost thousands of cartridges. Stewart's bullock-guard was in a plight, too, forty head having strayed.

At the outlet to the pass Major Parr met us, cautioning silence. No fires burned and the woods were very still, so that we could hear in front of us the distant movement of men; and supposed that the enemy had come down to Chemung in force. But Major Parr told us that our scouts could make nothing of these incessant noises, reporting only a boatload of Sir John Johnson's green-coated soldiers on the river, and a few Indians in two canoes; and that he had no knowledge whether Sir John, the two Butlers, McDonald, and Brant lay truly in front of us, or whether these people were only a mixed scalping party of blue-eyed Indians, Senecas, and other ragamuffin marauders bent on a more distant foray, and now merely lingering along our front over night to spy out what we might be about.

Also, he informed us that a little way ahead, on the Great Warrior trail, lay an Indian town which our scouts reported to be abandoned; and said that he had desired to post our pickets there, but that orders from General Hand had prevented that precaution until the General commanding arrived at the front.

Some few minutes after our appearance in camp, and while we were eating supper, there came a ruddy glimmer of torches from behind us, lighting up the leaves overhead; and Generals Sullivan, Clinton, Hand, and Poor rode up and drew bridle beside Major Parr, listening intently to the ominous sounds in front of us.

And, "What the devil do you make of it, Major?" says Sullivan, in a low voice. "It sounds like a log-rolling in March."

"My scouts give me no explanation," says Parr grimly. "I think the rascals are terrified."

"Send Boyd and that young interpreter," said Sullivan curtly.

So, as nobody could understand exactly what these noises indicated, and as headquarters' scouts could obtain no information, Lieutenant Boyd and I, with my Indians, left our supper of fresh roast corn and beans and went forward at once. We moved out of the defile with every precaution, passing the throat of the rocky pass and wading the little trout-brook over which our trail led, the Chemung River now lying almost south of us. Low mountains rose to the north and west, very dark and clear against the stars; and directly ahead of us we saw the small Indian town surrounded by corn fields; and found it utterly deserted, save for bats and owls; and not even an Indian dog a-prowling there.

A little way beyond it we crossed another brook close to where it entered the river, opposite an island. Here the Chemung makes a great bend, flowing in more than half a circle; and there are little hills to the north, around which we crept, hearing always the stirring and movements of men ahead of us, and utterly unable to comprehend what they were so busily about.

Just beyond the island another and larger creek enters the river; and here, no longer daring to follow the Seneca trail, we turned southwest, slinking across the river flats, through the high Indian grass, until we came to a hardwood ridge, from whence some of these sounds proceeded.

We heard voices very plainly, the splintering of saplings, and a heavier, thumping sound, which the Mohican whispered to us was like hewn logs being dragged over the ground and then piled up. A few moments later, Tahoontowhee, who had crept on ahead, glided up to us and whispered that there was a high breastwork of logs on the ridge, and that many men were cutting bushes, sharpening the stems, and planting them to screen this breastwork so that it could not be seen from the Seneca trail north of us, along which lay our army's line of march. A pretty ambuscade, in truth! But Braddock's breed had passed.

Silently, stealthily, scarcely breathing, we got out of that dangerous place, recrossed the grassy flats, and took to the river willows the entire way back. At the mouth of the pass, where my battalion lay asleep, we found Major Parr anxiously awaiting us. He sent Captain Simpson back with the information.

Before I could unlace my shirt, drag my pack under my head, and compose myself to sleep, Boyd, who had stretched himself out beside me, touched my arm.

"Are you minded to sleep, Loskiel?"

"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.