Part 30 (2/2)

”Still, I've a notion, Mynheer Heemskerk, that you'd rather be here, and perhaps before the day is over you will get some fighting hot enough to please even you.”

Mynheer Heemskerk threw up his hands in dismay, but a half hour later he was eagerly discussing with Henry the possibility of overtaking some large band of retreating Iroquois.

Urged on by all the scouts and by those who had suffered at Wyoming, Colonel Butler gathered his forces and marched swiftly that very morning up the river against another Indian town, Cunahunta. Fortunately for him, a band of riflemen and scouts unsurpa.s.sed in skill led the way, and saw to it that the road was safe. In this band were the five, of course, and after them Heemskerk, young Taylor, and several others.

”If the Iroquois do not get in our way, we'll strike Cunahunta before night,” said Heemskerk, who knew the way.

”It seems to me that they will certainly try to save their towns,” said Henry. ”Surely Brant and the Tories will not let us strike so great a blow without a fight.”

”Most of their warriors are elsewhere, Mynheer Henry,” said Heemskerk, ”or they would certainly give us a big battle. We've been lucky in the time of our advance. As it is, I think we'll have something to do.”

It was now about noon, the noon of a beautiful October day of the North, the air like life itself, the foliage burning red on the hills, the leaves falling softly from the trees as the wind blew, but bringing with them no hint of decay. None of the vanguard felt fatigue, but when they crossed a low range of hills and saw before them a creek flowing down to the Susquehanna, Henry, who was in the lead, stopped suddenly and dropped down in the gra.s.s. The others, knowing without question the significance of the action, also sank down.

”What is it, Henry?” asked s.h.i.+f'less Sol.

”You see how thick the trees are on the other side of that bank. Look a little to the left of a big oak, and you will see the feathers in the headdress of an Iroquois. Farther on I think I can catch a glimpse of a green coat, and if I am right that coat is worn by one of Johnson's Royal Greens. It's an ambush, Sol, an ambush meant for us.”

”But it's not an ambush intended for our main force, Mynheer Henry,”

said Heemskerk, whose red face began to grow redder with the desire for action. ”I, too, see the feather of the Iroquois.”

”As good scouts and skirmishers it's our duty, then, to clear this force out of the way, and not wait for the main body to come up, is it not?”

asked Henry, with a suggestive look at the Dutchman.

”What a goot head you have, Mynheer Henry!” exclaimed Heemskerk. ”Of course we will fight, and fight now!”

”How about them blue plates?” said s.h.i.+f'less Sol softly. But Heemskerk did not hear him.

They swiftly developed their plan of action. There could be no earthly doubt of the fact that the Iroquois and some Tories were ambushed on the far side of the creek. Possibly Thayendanegea himself, stung by the burning of Oghwaga and the advance on Cunahunta, was there. But they were sure that it was not a large band.

The party of Henry and Heemskerk numbered fourteen, but every one was a veteran, full of courage, tenacity, and all the skill of the woods.

They had supreme confidence in their ability to beat the best of the Iroquois, man for man, and they carried the very finest arms known to the time.

It was decided that four of the men should remain on the hill. The others, including the five, Heemskerk, and Taylor, would make a circuit, cross the creek a full mile above, and come down on the flank of the ambus.h.i.+ng party. Theirs would be the main attack, but it would be preceded by sharpshooting from the four, intended to absorb the attention of the Iroquois. The chosen ten slipped back down the hill, and as soon as they were sheltered from any possible glimpse by the warriors, they rose and ran rapidly westward. Before they had gone far they heard the crack of a rifle shot, then another, then several from another point, as if in reply.

”It's our sharpshooters,” said Henry. ”They've begun to disturb the Iroquois, and they'll keep them busy.”

”Until we break in on their sport and keep them still busier,” exclaimed Heemskerk, revolving swiftly through the bushes, his face blazing red.

It did not take long for such as they to go the mile or so that they intended, and then they crossed the creek, wading in the water breast high, but careful to keep their ammunition dry. Then they turned and rapidly descended the stream on its northern bank. In a few minutes they heard the sound of a rifle shot, and then of another as if replying.

”The Iroquois have been fooled,” exclaimed Heemskerk. ”Our four good riflemen have made them think that a great force is there, and they have not dared to cross the creek themselves and make an attack.”

In a few minutes more, as they ran noiselessly through the forest, they saw a little drifting smoke, and now and then the faint flash of rifles.

They were coming somewhere near to the Iroquois band, and they practiced exceeding caution. Presently they caught sight of Indian faces, and now and then one of Johnson's Greens or Butler's Rangers. They stopped and held a council that lasted scarcely more than half a minute. They all agreed there was but one thing to do, and that was to attack in the Indian's own way-that is, by ambush and sharpshooting.

Henry fired the first shot, and an Iroquois, aiming at a foe on the other side of the creek, fell. Heemskerk quickly followed with a shot as good, and the surprised Iroquois turned to face this new foe. But they and the Tories were a strong band, and they retreated only a little.

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