Part 47 (1/2)

And so I learned of him that Stevie Watts, disguised, had been that night at Summer House with Lieutenant Hare; that they had brought news to Lady Johnson of Sir John's safe arrival in Canada; that they had met and talked to Claudia Swift; had counted our men and made a very accurate report, which was writ in the military cipher which we discovered, and a copy of which Captain Watts also carried upon his proper person.

I learned that Walter Butler, now a captain of Royalist Rangers, also had come into the Valley in disguise, for the purpose of spying and of raising the Tory settlers against us.

I learned that Brant and Guy Johnson had been in England, but were on their way hither.

I learned that our army in Canada, decimated by battle, by smallpox, by fever, was giving ground and slowly retreating on Crown Point; and that Arnold now commanded them.

I learned that we were to be invaded from the west, the north, and the south by three armies, and thousands of savages; that Albany must burn, and Tryon flame from Schenectady to Saint Sacrement.... And I wrote all down.

”Is there more?” I asked, looking at him with utter loathing.

”Howell's house,” he muttered, ”the log house of John Howell--tonight----”

”The cabin on the hard ridge yonder?”

”Yes.... A plot to ma.s.sacre this post.... They meet there.”

”Who?”

”King's people.... John Howell, Dries Bowman, the Cadys, the Helmers, Girty, Dawling, Gene Grinnis, Balty Weed----”

”_Tonight!_”

”Yes.”

”Where are they now?”

”Hid in the tamaracks--in the bush--G.o.d knows where!----”

”When do they rendezvous?”

”Toward midnight.”

”At John Howell's cabin?”

He nodded, muttering.

I got up, took him by the arm and jerked him to his feet.

”Read this!” I said, and thrust the paper of cipher writing under his nose.

But he could not, saying that Steve Watts had writ it, and that he was to carry it express to Oswego.

Now, whilst I stood there, striving to think out what was best to do and how most prudently to conduct in the instant necessity confronting me, there came Thiohero's sweet, clear whistle of a Canada sparrow, warning us to look sharp.

Then I heard the snort of a horse and the rattle and b.u.mp of a wagon.

”Tie the prisoner,” said I to G.o.dfrey; and turned to see the little maid of Askalege, her rifle shouldered, leading in two horses, behind which rumbled the wagon carrying our pay, food, arms, and clothing sent from Johnstown.

Two armed Continental soldiers sat atop; one, a corporal, driving, t'other on guard.