The night was no exception to Henry's statement, but he was awake early the next morning. Colonel de Peyster also rose early, because he wished to hear quickly from Private Doran. But Private Doran did not come at the usual hour of reporting from duty, nor did he return the next hour, nor at any hour. De Peyster, furious with anger, sent a detachment which found his letter gone and another there. It said that as proof of their power they had taken his sentinel and they warned him again not to harm the prisoner.

De Peyster raged for several reasons. It hurt his personal pride, and it injured his prestige with the Indians. Timmendiquas was still troublesome. He was demanding further guarantees that the King's officers help the Indians with many men and with cannon, in case a return attack should be delivered against their villages, and the White Lightning of the Wyandots was not a chief with whom one could trifle.

Timmendiquas had returned to the camp of his warriors outside the walls and de Peyster at once visited him there. He found the chief in a fine lodge of buffalo skin that the Wyandots had erected for him, polishing the beautiful new rifle that had been presented to him as coming from the King. He looked up when he saw de Peyster enter, and his smile showed the faintest trace of irony. But he laid aside the rifle and arose with the courtesy befitting a red chief who was about to receive a white one.

"Be seated, Timmendiquas," said de Peyster with as gracious a manner as he could summon. "I have come to consult with you about a matter of importance. It seems to me that you alone are of sufficient judgment and experience to give me advice in this case."

Timmendiquas bowed gravely.

De Peyster then told him of the threatening letter from the four, and of the disappearance of Private Doran. The nostrils of Timmendiquas dilated.

"They are great warriors," he said, "but the white youth, Ware, whom you hold, is the greatest of them all. It was well done."

De Peyster frowned. In his praise of the woodsmen Timmendiquas seemed to reflect upon the skill of his own troops. But he persisted in his plan to flatter and to appeal to the pride of Timmendiquas.

"White Lightning," he said, "you know the forest as the bird knows its nest. What would you advise me to do?"

The soothing words appealed to Timmendiquas and he replied:

"I will send some of my warriors to trail them from the spot where your man was taken, and do you send soldiers also to take them when they are found. It is my business to make war upon these rangers from Kentucky, and I will help you all I can."

De Peyster, who felt that his honor was involved, left the lodge much more hopeful. It was intolerable that he, a soldier and a poet, should be insulted in such a manner by four wild woodsmen, and he selected ten good men who, following two Wyandot trailers, would certainly avenge him.

Henry heard the details of Private Doran's misadventure from Lieutenant Holderness, who did not fail to do it full justice.

"I should not have believed it," said the young Englishman, "if the facts were not so clear. Private Doran is not a small man. He must weigh at least one hundred and eighty, but he is gone as completely as if the earth had opened and swallowed him up."

Henry smiled and pretended to take it lightly. At heart he was hugely delighted at this new proof of the prowess of his friends.

"I told you what they were," he said. "They are keeping their promises, are they not?"

"So far they have, but they will reach the end very soon. The Chief Timmendiquas, the tall one, who thinks he is as good as the King of England, has furnished two Wyandot trailers--they say the beggars can come pretty near following the trail left by the flight of a bird through the air--and they will take a detachment of ten good men against these four friends of yours."

The prisoner's eyes sparkled. It did not seem to Holderness that he was at all cast down as he should be.

"Shif'less Sol will lead them a glorious chase," said Henry. "The Wyandots are fine trailers, but they are no better than he, maybe not as good, and no detachment of heavy-footed soldiers can surprise him in the woods."

"But if overtaken they will certainly be defeated. All of them will be slain or captured," said Holderness. "There can be no doubt of it."

"It is to be seen," said Henry, "and we must wait patiently for the result."

Henry was allowed to go in the court again that day. He knew that strong influences were working for his good treatment, and with the impossibility of escape in broad daylight under scores of watchful eyes there was no reason why he should be confined in the big jail. He hoped to see Timmendiquas there, but the chief still stayed outside with his Wyandot warriors. Instead he met another who was not so welcome. As he turned a corner of a large log building he came face to face with Braxton Wyatt. Henry turned abruptly away, indicating that he would avoid the young renegade as he would a snake. But Wyatt called to him:

"Henry, I've got a few words to say to you. You know that you and I were boys together down there in Wareville, and if I've done you any harm it seems that the score is about even between us. I've helped to make war on the rebels in the East. I had gathered together a fine band there. I was leader of it and a man of importance, but that band was destroyed and you were the chief instrument of its destruction."

"Why do you say all this?" asked Henry shortly.

"To show you that I am in the right, and that I am now a Loyalist not for profit, but in face of the fact that I suffer for it."

Henry looked at him in amazement. Why should Braxton Wyatt say these things to him whom he hated most? Then he suddenly knew the reason. Deep down in the heart of everyone, no matter how perverted he may become, is some desire for the good opinion of others. The renegade was seeking to justify himself in the eyes of the youth who had been for a while a childhood comrade. He felt a sort of pity, but he knew that nothing good could come of any further talk between Braxton Wyatt and himself.

"Of course you are ent.i.tled to your opinion, Braxton," he said, "but it can never be mine. Your hands are red with the blood of your people, our people, and there can never be any friendship between us."

He saw the angry light coming into Wyatt's eyes, and he turned away. He felt that under the circ.u.mstances he could not quarrel with him, and he knew that if they were in the forest again they would be as bitter enemies as ever. It was a relief to him to meet Holderness and another young officer, Desmond, also a recent arrival from England, and quite as ignorant as Holderness of wilderness ways and warfare. He found them fair and generous opponents and, in his heart, he absolved them from blame for the terrible consequences following upon the British alliance with the Indians.

They took Henry on the entire inside circuit of the walls, and he, as well as they, was specially interested in the outlook over the river. A platform four feet wide was built against the palisade the same distance from the top. It was reached at intervals by flights of narrow steps, and here in case of attack the riflemen would crouch and fire from their hidden breastwork. Close by and under the high bank flowed the river, a broad, deep stream, bearing the discharge from those mighty inland seas, the upper chain of the Great Lakes. The current of the river, deep, blue and placid and the forests beyond, ma.s.sive, dark, and green, made Henry realize how bitter it was to be a prisoner. Here separated from him by only a few feet was freedom, the great forest with its sparkling waters that he loved. In spite of himself, he sighed, and both Holderness and Desmond, understanding, were silent.

Near them was a sort of trestle work that ran out toward the river, although it did not reach it by many feet.

"What is that?" asked Henry, as he looked at it curiously.

"It was intended to be a pier or wharf for loading or unloading boats,"

replied Holderness. "They tell me that Colonel Hamilton started it, in the belief that it would be useful in an emergency, but when Colonel de Peyster succeeded to the command he stopped the work there, thinking that it might be of as much service to an enemy as to a friend."

Henry took little more notice of the unfinished pier, and they descended from the platform to the ground, their attention being attracted by a noise at the most distant gate. When they took a second look at the cause of the tumult, they hurried forward.

CHAPTER XI

THE CRY FROM THE FOREST

The spectacle that met the eyes of Henry and his English friends was one likely to excite curiosity and interest. The party of ten soldiers and two Wyandots that had gone forth to take the youth's four comrades was returning, but they brought with them no prisoners, nor any trophies from the slain. Instead, one of the Wyandots carried an arm in a rude sling, one soldier was missing, and four others bore wounds.

Henry laughed inwardly, and it was a laugh full of satisfaction and triumph. The party had found the four, but his prevision had not failed him. Shif'less Sol and the others were on watch. They had been found, because they permitted themselves to be found, and evidently they had fought with all the advantage of ambush and skill. He felt instinctively that they had not suffered any serious harm.

"They do not bring your friends," said Holderness.

"No," said Henry, "nor do they bring back all of themselves. I do not wish to boast, gentlemen, but I warned you that my comrades would be hard to take."

Henry saw Colonel de Peyster join the group and he saw, too, that his face expressed much chagrin. So, not wishing to exult openly, he deemed it wise to turn aside.

"If you don't mind," he said to the young officers, "I'm willing to go into my cell, and, if you care to tell me later about what has happened, you know I shall be glad to hear it."

"It might be advisable," said Holderness, and accordingly they locked him in, where he waited patiently. He heard the noise of many voices outside, but those to whom the voices belonged did not come within the range of his window, and he waited, alive with curiosity. He did not hear until nearly night, when Holderness came in with the soldier who brought him his supper. Holderness seemed somewhat chagrined at the discomfiture of de Peyster's party, and he sat a little while in silence. Henry, knowing that the young Englishman must have a certain feeling for his own, waited until he should choose to speak.

"I'm bound to confess, old chap," said Holderness at last, "that you were right all the way through. I didn't believe you, but you knew your own friends. It was a facer for us and, 'pon my word, I don't see how they did it. The Wyandots, it seems, found the trail very soon, and it led a long distance through the woods until they came to a deep creek.

Our men could wade the creek by holding their rifles and muskets above their heads, which they undertook to do, but a man standing in water up to his neck is not ready for a fight. At that point fire was opened upon them, and they were compelled to beat as hasty a retreat as they could.

You must admit, Mr. Ware, that they were taken at a disadvantage."

"I admit it freely enough," said Henry. "It's a dangerous thing to try to cross a deep stream in the face of a bold enemy who knows how to shoot. And of course it was an ambush, too. That is what one has to beware of in these woods."

"It's a truth that I'm learning every day," said Holderness, who left, wishing the prisoner, since he would not give a parole and go into Canada, a speedy exchange with the Americans for some British captive of importance. Henry was not sorry to be left alone as he was trying to fathom through their characters the plan of his comrades. Paul would seek speedy action, Jim Hart would agree with him, but the crafty Shif'less Sol, with a patience equaling that of any Indian, would risk nothing, until the time was ripe, and he would be seconded by the cautious temperament of Silent Tom. Undoubtedly Shif'less Sol would have his way. It behooved him also to show extreme patience; a quality that he had learned long since, and he disposed himself comfortably on his pallet for his night's rest.

The second exploit of his comrades had encouraged him wonderfully. He was not talking folly, when he had said to more than one that he would escape. The five had become long since a beautiful machine that worked with great precision and power, and it was their first principles that, when one was in trouble, all the rest should risk everything for him.