Part 19 (2/2)
CHAPTER XV
The certainty that now the decisive moment had come, and the joy that the same moment had brought back his brother, again gave Lambert a touch of the peculiarities on account of which young and old valued and praised him--calmness, circ.u.mspection, confidence. Without hesitating a moment as to what was next to be done, and calling to his brother to notify those in the house, he hastened across the plank over the creek to the hill yonder, where the signal pile had been erected, which from there could be clearly seen from Ditmar's house away from the creek. A minute later there rose from the lofty, ingeniously constructed wood-pile a dark column of smoke, pus.h.i.+ng its way up like the stem of a mighty palm, and spreading out above in the still air like an immense crown. Then, a quarter of a mile down the creek, there came up a dark cloud of smoke. Uncle Ditmar has kept good watch. The signal has been answered and carried farther. In a quarter of an hour they will also know on the Mohawk, six miles farther, that here on the creek the enemy has broken in. Then back over the creek--a strong push--the fastening is broken off. The plank floats away.
”Are you here yet, Conrad? How the rest will rejoice! Come!”
Lambert hastened ahead. Conrad followed with slow, lingering steps. Was it fatigue after the dreadful running? Had the blood with which his leathern jacket was dotted spurted from his veins?
So asked Lambert, but received no answer. And now they had reached the temporary bridge, where the friends who stood on the wall received them with loud cheers. Lambert hastened up and shook the hand of each brave youth with heartfelt joy. Conrad still lingered at the foot of the bridge. His face was pale, and as if emaciated with bodily pain, or an inward conflict. He had sworn with a terrible oath that he would not again cross the door-sill of his father's house, or his blood should pay the forfeit. The strong, wild heart shrunk together in his breast.
His blood--why should this trouble him? He had not spared it. He had, a quarter of an hour ago in a battle which he alone could take up--which he alone could bring to a happy issue--put it at hazard. But his word! his word! that he had never yet broken--which he now shall break--_must_ break, as his clearer soul tells him--as his n.o.ble heart bids him, in spite of all.
As he still lingered, Catherine was suddenly standing among his cheering companions. On her account had he renounced his father's house. As if blinded by lightning he turned away his gaze. But she is already at his side, has seized his hand with a soft pressure that he cannot withstand, leads him with gentle force, that he must follow, up the bridge, over the wall, down into the inner yard, where his comrades, jubilant, press around him, and at the same time, with a sudden impulse, seize him, raise him up on high, and with jubilation and noise carry the fugitive--the returned one--into the house, as though they would with bantering cunning drive from their prey the demons lurking about the door-sill.
So it also seemed to him. Conrad is back, the best rifle in the colony.
They had resolved without Conrad to do their duty. But the quick looks, the short words which they interchanged, the faces illuminated with joy, these said plainly, ”It is far better so.” If only Aunt Ursul and Christian Ditmar were here the dance might begin at once. ”They could be here already,” thought Catherine. ”Hurrah! there they come!” cried Richard Herkimer, who had gone up on the gallery to see better; ”and there are three. The third is the minister. Hurrah! and again, hurrah!
and once more, _hurrah_!”
Who now has time or inclination to ask the breathless ones how the minister came to be here? Enough that they are here at the right time, and that at last the bridge can be thrown off and that the door can be barricaded with the strong beams lying ready. There they now are, locked in their wooden fortress in the midst of the wilderness, miles away from friends, depending solely on themselves, on their firm courage, on their strong arms, on their keen eyes--two women, nine men, nine rifles. Though the minister is not to be counted, as he would not know how to use a rifle even if he wished to fight, yet Aunt Ursul has a rifle, and knows how to use it, and will fight; that can be depended on.
Now the parts are a.s.signed and everything and every man is in place. In one division of the lower, thoroughly protected room is Hans, whom Lambert will not sacrifice. In another are the sheep, which were taken in out of compa.s.sion, and now bleated piteously in the darkness. On the gallery of the upper story, behind the breastwork, lay Lambert, Richard, Fritz Volz, Jacob Ehrlich and Anton Bierman, with the barrels of their rifles in the port-holes. On the floor above, at the trap-doors of the high, s.h.i.+ngled roof, stood Conrad, Aunt Ursul and Christian Ditmar, whose far-carrying rifle was, in his time, the dread of the enemy. With them is the minister, who, though he is not a good shot, well understands how quickly and properly, to load a rifle. This service Adam Bellinger performs for those on the gallery. Catherine is to bring food and drink, when necessary, to those who are to fight.
Lambert and the rest have adjured her not in any way to expose herself to danger. She, however, secretly purposed, in case of need, to take Adam's rifle, which now lay idle, and follow Aunt Ursul's example.
Silence reigned in the house. Whoever should see it standing there, still, gloomy, locked, would suppose it forsaken by its former occupants--a piece of abandoned property in the all-embracing wilderness. Silent in its entire circuit lay that wilderness under the ban of the hot afternoon sun. Silent was the green prairie on which scarcely a single flower bent, or gra.s.s-stem waved. Silent the woods whose treetops reached up unmoved toward the blue sky, from which several white clouds looked down motionless. Deepest silence! Forest stillness!
There!--a loud, long drawn-out, many-voiced whoop, whose dreadful echo is reflected back from surrounding objects. From the forest break forth at once fifty half-naked Indians in their colored war-paint, swinging their rifles and tomahawks, and, leaping forward with wild jumps, hastening over the prairie, one part coming directly toward the block-house, the other going around so as in a short time to rush up from all sides. The house stood as silent as before. There was no reply to the demand which the on-rus.h.i.+ng enemy kept repeating with yells and cries and whoops. The first are already within a hundred paces--then comes the answer, a short, sharp sound from four German rifles fired at the same moment, so that but one report was heard. Four Indians fall not to rise again. The others run on more rapidly, and had already reached the surrounding wall, when again is heard the crack of four rifles and again four Indians fall--one, having been shot through the heart, leapt up high, like a deer.
This they had not expected. A third salvo might follow the second, and there yet lay between them and the house a ditch and wall. Who could tell whether this third salvo might not be more dreadful than the first two? No one wants it tried. In a moment all turn and run, in like haste, back to the woods, which they had not reached until again four shots are sent after them. Two more sink dead at the feet of the French, who had kept concealed in the woods, observing the b.l.o.o.d.y spectacle before them, full of horror and compelled to confess that the first attack, which they had cunningly left to their Indian allies, had altogether failed.
Yes, the first attack had been repelled. Those in the block-house shook hands with each other, and then again grasped their freshly loaded guns. One of the Indians raised up on his hands and knees, and again fell back, and then again raised up. Richard Herkimer said: ”That is my man. The poor devil shall not be in pain much longer.” He raised his rifle to his cheek, but Lambert laid his hand on his shoulder saying: ”We shall need every shot, Richard, and he has enough.” The Indian, in a death-cramp grasped the gra.s.s, twitched a few times, and then lay rigid like the rest of his comrades.
”What will happen now? Will they seek us again in the same way, or choose some other mode of attack? and what then?” The young men debated the matter, and Aunt Ursul, who had come down from the upper floor, joined in the discussion. Their views were divided. Lambert thought that they had soon enough found out how strong the fastness was, and how much they must sacrifice in this most dangerous pitfall until the rest should actually reach the house. It also appeared how large the number was, since thus far it was clear that they had had to do with only a part, and that their princ.i.p.al force was still in the woods.
”Lambert is right,” said Aunt Ursul. ”They are one hundred and fifty strong--fifty French and a hundred Onondagas.”
”Ninety-two,” said Anton Bierman, ”for eight lie there.”
Jacob Ehrlich usually laughed when Anton said something witty. This time he did not laugh. He was silently reckoning how many Indians, leaving out the French, would fall to his share if there really were so many. Jacob Ehrlich could not make out the exact number, but he reached the result that under all the circ.u.mstances it would be hard work.
The others looked inquiringly at Aunt Ursul. That the report came from Conrad was certain, but how had he learned the fact? Aunt Ursul now related her yesterday's expedition with the minister. But thus it could not be concealed that, without her interference, Conrad would not now have been here. But about this she did not wish to speak, at least today. She also said that Conrad had found and watched the camp of our enemies; that he had counted them head by head, and that they had divided into two parts; that of these the larger, a hundred French, as many Onondagas and at least two hundred Oneidas, had started for the Mohawk, and would doubtless already have arrived, but that the Oneidas had no heart for the affair, and that it was at least possible that at the decisive moment they would fall away and go over to their old treaty friends.
”If it is so, we can also reckon on help from my father,” said Richard Herkimer.
”We will reckon on n.o.body but ourselves,” said Lambert.
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