Chapter 15: “The Alcove”

They arrived at the fort as evening was coming on, and as soon as food was served to them the five sought sleep. The frontiersmen usually slept soundly and for a long time after prodigious exertions, and Henry and his comrades were too wise to make an exception. They secured a single room inside the fort, one given to them gladly, because Mary Newton had already spread the fame of their exploits, and, laying aside their hunting shirts and leggins, prepared for rest.

“Jim,” said Shif’less Sol, pointing to a low piece of furniture, flat and broad, in one corner of the room, “that’s a bed. Mebbe you don’t think it, but people lay on top o’ that an’ sleep thar.”

Long Jim grinned.

“Mebbe you’re right, Sol,” he said. “I hev seen sech things ez that, an’ mebbe I’ve slep’ on ‘em, but in all them gran’ old tales Paul tells us about I never heard uv no big heroes sleepin’ in beds. I guess the ground wuz good ‘nough for A-killus, Hector, Richard-Kur-de-Leong, an’ all the rest uv that fightin’ crowd, an’ ez I’m that sort uv a man myself I’ll jest roll down here on the floor. Bein’ as you’re tender, Sol Hyde, an’ not used to hard life in the woods, you kin take that bed yourself, an’ in the mornin’ your wally will be here with hot water in a silver mug an’ a razor to shave you, an’ he’ll dress you in a ruffled red silk shirt an’ a blue satin waistcoat, an’ green satin breeches jest comin’ to the knee, where they meet yellow silk stockin’s risin’ out uv purple satin slippers, an’ then he’ll clap on your head a big wig uv snow-white hair, fallin’ all about your shoulders an’ he’ll buckle a silver sword to your side, an’ he’ll say: ‘Gentlemen, him that hez long been known ez Shif’less Sol, an’ desarvin’ the name, but who in reality is the King o’ France, is now before you. Down on your knees an’ say your prayers!’”

Shif’less Sol stared in astonishment.

“You say a wally will do all that fur me, Jim? Now, what under the sun is a wally?”

“I heard all about ‘em from Paul,” replied Long Jim in a tone of intense satisfaction. “A wally is a man what does fur you what you ought to do fur yourself.”

“Then I want one,” said Shif’less Sol emphatically. “He’d jest suit a lazy man like me. An’ ez fur your makin’ me the King o’ France, mebbe you’re more’n half right about that without knowin’ it. I hev all the instincts uv a king. I like to be waited on, I like to eat when I’m hungry, I like to drink when I’m thirsty, I like to rest when I’m tired, an’ I like to sleep when I’m sleepy. You’ve heard o’ children changed at birth by fairies an’ sech like. Mebbe I’m the real King o’ France, after all, an’ my instincts are handed down to me from a thousand royal ancestors.”

“Mebbe it’s so,” rejoined Long Jim. “I’ve heard that thar hev been a pow’ful lot uv foolish kings.”

With that he put his two blankets upon the floor, lay down upon them, and was sound asleep in five minutes. But Shif’less Sol beat him to slumberland by at least a minute, and the others were not more than two minutes behind Sol.

Henry was the first up the next morning. A strong voice shouted in his ear: “Henry Ware, by all that’s glorious,” and a hand pressed his fingers together in an iron grasp. Henry beheld the tall, thin figure and smiling brown face of Adam Colfax, with whom he had made that adventurous journey up the Mississippi and Ohio.

“And the others?” was the first question of Adam Colfax.

“They’re all here asleep inside. We’ve been through a lot of things, but we’re as sound as ever.”

“That’s always a safe prediction to make,” said Adam Colfax, smiling. “I never saw five other human beings with such a capacity for getting out of danger.”

“We were all at Wyoming, and we all still live.”

The face of the New Englander darkened.

“Wyoming!” he exclaimed. “I cannot hear of it without every vein growing hot within me.”

“We saw things done there,” said Henry gravely, “the telling of which few men can bear to hear.”

“I know! I know!” exclaimed Adam Colfax. “The news of it has spread everywhere!”

“What we want,” said Henry, “is revenge. It is a case in which we must strike back, and strike hard. If this thing goes on, not a white life will be safe on the whole border from the St. Lawrence to the Mississippi.”

“It is true,” said Adam Colfax, “and we would send an army now against the Iroquois and their allies, but, Henry, my lad, our fortunes are at their lowest there in the East, where the big armies are fighting. That is the reason why nobody has been sent to protect our rear guard, which has suffered so terribly. You may be sure, too, that the Iroquois will strike in this region again as often and as hard as they can. I make more than half a guess that you and your comrades are here because you know this.”

He looked shrewdly at the boy.

“Yes,” said Henry, “that is so. Somehow we were drawn into it, but being here we are glad to stay. Timmendiquas, the great chief who fought us so fiercely on the Ohio, is with the Iroquois, with a detachment of his Wyandots, and while he, as I know, frowns on the Wyoming massacre, he means to help Thayendanegea to the end.”

Adam Colfax looked graver than ever.

“That is bad,” he said. “Timmendiquas is a mighty warrior and leader, but there is also another way of looking at it. His presence here will relieve somewhat the pressure on Kentucky. I ought to tell you, Henry, that we got through safely with our supplies to the Continental army, and they could not possibly have been more welcome. They arrived just in time.”

The others came forth presently and were greeted with the same warmth by Adam Colfax.

“It is shore mighty good for the eyes to see you, Mr. Colfax,” said Shif’less Sol, “an’ it’s a good sign. Our people won when you were on the Mississippi an’ the Ohio’--an’ now that you’re here, they’re goin’ to win again.”

“I think we are going to win here and everywhere,” said Adam Colfax, “but it is not because there is any omen in my presence. It is because our people will not give up, and because our quarrel is just.”

The stanch New Englander left on the following day for points farther east, planning and carrying out some new scheme to aid the patriot cause, and the five, on the day after that, received a message written on a piece of paper which was found fastened to a tree on the outskirts of the settlement. It was addressed to “Henry Ware and Those with Him,” and it read:

“You need not think because you escaped us at Wyoming and on

the Susquehanna that you will ever get back to Kentucky.

There is amighty league now on the whole border between the

Indians and the soldiers of the king. You have seen at

Wyoming what we can do, and you will see at other places and

on a greater scale what we will do.

“I find my own position perfect. It is true that

Timmendiquas does not like me, but he is not king here. I

am the friend of the great Brant; and Hiokatoo, Sangerachte,

Hahiron, and the other chiefs esteem me. I am thick with

Colonel John Butler, the victor of Wyoming; his son, the

valiant and worthy Walter Butler; Sir John Johnson, Colonel

Guy Johnson, Colonel Daniel Claus, and many other eminent

men and brave soldiers.

“I write these words, Henry Ware, both to you and your

comrades, to tell you that our cause will prevail over

yours. I do not doubt that when you read this you will try

to escape to Kentucky, but when we have destroyed everything

along the eastern border, as we have at Wyoming, we shall

come to Kentucky, and not a rebel face will be left there.

“I am sending this to tell you that there is no hole in

which you can hide where we cannot reach you. With my

respects, BRAXTON WYATT.”

Henry regarded the letter with contempt.

“A renegade catches something of the Indian nature,” he said, “and always likes to threaten and boast.”

But Shif’less Sol was highly indignant.

“Sometimes I think,” he said, “that the invention o’ writin’ wuz a mistake. You kin send a man a letter an’ call him names an’ talk mighty big when he’s a hundred miles away, but when you’ve got to stan’ up to him face to face an’ say it, wa’al, you change your tune an’ sing a pow’ful sight milder. You ain’t gen’ally any roarin’ lion then.”

“I think I’ll keep this letter,” said Henry, “an’ we five will give an answer to it later on.”

He tapped the muzzle of his rifle, and every one of the four gravely tapped the muzzle of his own rifle after him. It was a significant action. Nothing more was needed.

The next morning they bade farewell to the grateful Mary Newton and her children, and with fresh supplies of food and ammunition, chiefly ammunition, left the fort, plunging once more into the deep forest. It was their intention to do as much damage as they could to the Iroquois, until some great force, capable of dealing with the whole Six Nations, was assembled. Meanwhile, five redoubtable and determined borderers could achieve something.

It was about the first of August, and they were in the midst of the great heats. But it was a period favoring Indian activity, which was now at its highest pitch. Since Wyoming, loaded with scalps, flushed with victory, and aided by the king’s men, they felt equal to anything. Only the strongest of the border settlements could hold them back. The colonists here were so much reduced, and so little help could be sent them from the East, that the Iroquois were able to divide into innumerable small parties and rake the country as with a fine tooth comb. They never missed a lone farmhouse, and rarely was any fugitive in the woods able to evade them. And they were constantly fed from the North with arms, ammunition, rewards for scalps, bounties, and great promises.