Part 21 (1/2)
”Conrad's and mine,” said Lambert with determined voice, ”and no one else. Away, the rest of you, to your posts. You, Richard and Fritz, guard the door. Here are the two axes; and now, in G.o.d's name--”
The beams which bar the door are taken away so as to uncover a strong plank, fitting closely into the opening and against which the blows from without are directed, the door having been shattered. The last beam is drawn away; the plank falls; the breach desired by the besiegers is made, and out of the breach rush Lambert and Conrad side by side, old Christian Ditmar swinging aloft an ax with his nervous arm and crying: ”Here! Germany forever!”
It is the first word that has to-day fallen from his lips, and it is his last for to-day and forever. Pierced at once with three bullets, cut and crushed by a dozen knife cuts and ax-blows he falls, but his big-hearted purpose is attained. He broke the first onset of the attacking party. He made a way for the two young men behind him. They rushed into this pa.s.sage-way. Nothing can withstand Conrad's giant strength. His blows fall like hail. He rages among the crowd like a jaguar among sheep. Yes, it is a jaguar that has come among them--the great jaguar, as they call him at the lake, who had already torn so many of the tribe of Onondagas. They are willing to fight with the devil himself, but cannot bear to look at the flaming eyes of the great jaguar. They rush away toward the wall, over the wall, into the ditch, followed by Conrad. Lambert, who had already pulled apart the burning pile of wood, called after him that he should go no farther but come back, for the others, who had seen the shameful flight of their comrades, now directed their fire at the two. Bullet after bullet strikes the wall near Lambert. It is a wonder that he is yet uninjured; yes, that he is alive. But he does not think of himself. He only thinks of his lion-hearted brother. He rushes toward the raging one, who is fighting near the wall with three Indians, the last within the enclosure. They shall not get over it again. He seizes one, whirls him on high and dashes him against the wall where the unlucky fellow lies with a broken neck. The two others improve the moment and climb over the wall. One of them, before sliding down into the ditch, discharges his gun.
”Come in, for G.o.d's sake, Conrad!” called Lambert. He seizes Conrad by the hand and drags him away. They had reached the door when Conrad staggered like a drunken man, Lambert caught him about the body.
”It is nothing, dear brother,” said Conrad and straightened himself up.
But in the door he fell down. A stream of blood gushed from his mouth and moistened the door-sill which he had sworn never again to cross without the shedding of his blood.
The door is again barred more strongly than before.
The fire that Lambert had pulled apart wastes away powerless at the base of the house. The house is saved; but how long? The little company that guards it is poorer by two fighting men. The rest, exhausted by their frightful labor, are more dead than alive. The ammunition is used up to within a few charges, and the sun pours its last red rays over the lonely battle-field in the midst of the surrounding forest. In a few minutes it will go down. Night--the last night--will come on.
”Your brother is dead,” said the minister to Lambert.
”He has gone before us,” said Lambert. ”Stay near me, Catherine.”
The minister and Catherine had been occupied below with Conrad. The minister was skilled in the healing art, but here his skill could accomplish nothing. Conrad had opened his beautiful blue eyes, with a bewildered look, but once. They for a moment became bright and clear, as he saw Catherine's face through the mist of death. Then he lay still with closed eyes. There was deep peace in the yet wild and battle-angered face. He breathed but once again. Then his head sunk to one side as if he were now sleeping quietly. The sun sinks behind the forest, spreading its blood-red evening-light over those on the gallery.
”On what do the fellows wait?” asked Jacob Ehrlich.
”Eternity will be long enough for you, fool,” replied Anton Bierman.
”If father means to send us succor he must be quick about it,” said Richard Herkimer, with a sad smile.
”Hurrah! hurrah! and again hurrah!” cried Adam Bellinger, who now rushes down the stairway and dances about like a crazy person, and then, crying loudly, falls into the minister's arms.
”Poor boy! poor boy!” said the minister.
Lambert went round to the other side of the gallery, from which one could look down the creek to the edge of the woods where the road makes a turn and then disappears to reappear for a short distance a little further on. On this side and on that there was nothing in the road. The slight hope which had kindled in Lambert's breast was at once extinguished. Sadly he shook his head.
And yet, what sound is that? Lambert clearly hears a dull, strong sound, while, at the same moment, the noise of the enemy is stilled.
The sounds become heavier and stronger. Lambert's heart beats as though it would split.
Suddenly there came around the corner of the woods one, two, three riders in full run and a moment later a large company; twenty, thirty horses, under whose hoofs the ground trembles. The riders swing their rifles and ”Hurrah! hurrah!” sound forth so that Lambert hears.
He hastens to his comrades. ”Have you all loaded? Then up and out! Now it is our turn. Now we will drive them!”
A sharp pursuit--a wild pursuit on the darkening prairie after the French and Indians, who in frenzied flight rush toward the woods while German rifles crack after them.
CHAPTER XVI
It was during the fifth summer after these events that the August sun, which rose above the woods in beaming glory, brought the Germans on the creek, on the Mohawk and on the Schoharie, a joyful day. To-day bison and deer might go their way through the primitive forest unmolested.
The hunter drew the charge out of his rifle and put into it a large load of loose powder. To-day cattle and sheep were left to themselves in the pasture-fields. The herdsman had brushed his Sunday-coat clean, and had stuck a large bunch of flowers in his hat. To-day there was rest from pressing labor, in field and mart. The farmer, much as he had to do, the herder, the hunter, and all the world, young and old, men, women and children, were to keep a great holiday--a great, wondrous, fine peace-festival. For there was again peace on earth--which had drunk the blood of her children in streams for seven long years. Peace over in the old home; peace here in the new one. There the hero of the century, old Fritz, the great Prussian king, was done with his enemies, and had sheathed his sword. So here too the battle-ax could be buried.
During the last years it had indeed become dull enough. Since, in the spring of 'fifty-eight, the attack of the French and Indians had been so bravely resisted by the Germans, they had made no further invasion across the border, protected as it was by such a warlike race. As now Fort Frontenac had fallen and Quebec was surrendered the following year. England's great victory was won, and what yet followed were only the flying sparks and the last flickering of a great conflagration. But for a German s.h.i.+ngle or straw roof sparks are also dangerous, and the master of the house had yet constantly gone to bed burdened with anxiety, and the next morning went to his labor with his rifle on his shoulder. Now the last trace of uncertainty had disappeared, and the bell in the little church sounded out ”Peace, peace,” over sunny fields and still woods.
Out of the woods and over the fields they came in festive groups, on foot, on horseback, young and old, adorned with flowers, sending friendly greetings from afar, heartily shaking each other's hands if they happened to meet at the crossroads; engaging in friendly conversation as they went through the smiling valley between the Mohawk and the creek toward the hill on which the church stood, which to-day could not hold all who came with pious thankfulness.