A CHANGE OF TENANTS
The five were engaged upon one of their most dangerous tasks, to keep with the Indian army, and yet to keep out of its hands, to observe what was going on, and to divine what was intended from what they observed.Fortunately it, was early summer, and the weather being very beautiful they could sleep without shelter.
Hence they found it convenient to sleep sometimes by daylight, posting a watch always, and to spy upon the Indian camp at night.
They saw other reinforcements come for the Indian army, particularly a strong division of Senecas, under two great war chiefs of theirs, Sangerachte and Hiokatoo, and also a body of Tories.
Then they saw them go into their last great camp at Tioga, preparatory to their swift descent upon the Wyoming Valley.
About four hundred white men, English Canadians and Tories, were present, and eight hundred picked warriors of the Six Nations under Thayendanegea, besides the little band of Wyandots led by the resolute Timmendiquas."Indian" Butler was in general command of the whole, and Queen Esther was the high priestess of the Indians, continually making fiery speeches and chanting songs that made the warriors see red.Upon the rear of this extraordinary army hung a band of fierce old squaws, from whom every remnant of mercy and Gentleness had departed.
From a high rock overlooking a valley the five saw "Indian"Butler's force start for its final march upon Wyoming.It was composed of many diverse elements, and perhaps none more bloodthirsty ever trod the soil of America.In some preliminary skirmish a son of Queen Esther had been slain, and now her fury knew no limits.She took her place at the very head of the army, whirling her great tomahawk about her head, and neither "Indian"Butler nor Thayendanegea dared to interfere with her in anything great or small.
Henry and his comrades, as they left their rock and hastened toward the valley of Wyoming, felt that now they were coming into contact with the great war itself.They had looked upon a uniformed enemy for the first time, and they might soon see the colonial buff and blue of the eastern army.Their hearts thrilled high at new scenes and new dangers.
They had gathered at Pittsburgh, and, through the captivity of the four in the Iroquois camp, they had some general idea of the Wyoming Valley and the direction in which it lay, and, taking one last look at the savage army, they sped toward it.The time was the close, of June, and the foliage was still dark green.It was a land of low mountain, hill, rich valley, and clear stream, and it was beautiful to every one of the five.Much of their course lay along the Susquehanna, and soon they saw signs of a more extended cultivation than any that was yet to be witnessed in Kentucky.From the brow of a little hill they beheld a field of green, and in another field a man plowing.
"That's wheat," said Tom Ross.
"But we can't leave the man to plow," said Henry, "or he'll never harvest that wheat.We'll warn him."The man uttered a cry of alarm as five wild figures burst into his field.He stopped abruptly, and snatched up a rifle that lay across the plow handles.Neither Henry nor his companions realized that their forest garb and long life in the wilderness made them look more like Indians than white men.But Henry threw up a hand as a sign of peace.
"We're white like yourselves," he cried, "and we've come to warn you! The Iroquois and the Tories are marching into the valley!"The man's face blanched, and he cast a hasty look toward a little wood, where stood a cabin from which smoke was rising.He could not doubt on a near view that these were white like himself, and the words rang true.
"My house is strong," he said, "and I can beat them off.Maybe you will help me.""We'd help you willingly enough," said Henry, "if this were any ordinary raiding band, but 'Indian' Butler, Brant, and Queen Esther are coming at the head of twelve or fifteen hundred men.
How could we hold a house, no matter how thick its walls, against such an army as that? Don't hesitate a moment! Get up what you can and gallop."The man, a Connecticut settler-Jennings was his name-left his plow in the furrow, galloped on his horse to his house, mounted his wife and children on other horses, and, taking only food and clothing, fled to Stroudsburg, where there was a strong fort.At a later day he gave Henry heartfelt thanks for his warning, as six hours afterward the vanguard of the horde burned his home and raged because its owner and his family were gone with their scalps on their own heads.
The five were now well into the Wyoming Valley, where the Lenni-Lenape, until they were pushed westward by other tribes, had had their village Wy-wa-mieh, which means in their language Wyoming.It was a beautiful valley running twenty miles or more along the Susquehanna, and about three miles broad.On either side rose mountain walls a thousand feet in height, and further away were peaks with mists and vapors around their crests.The valley itself blazed in the summer sunshine, and the river sparkled, now in gold, now in silver, as the light changed and fell.
More cultivated fields, more houses, generally of stout logs, appeared, and to all that they saw the five bore the fiery beacon.Simon Jennings was not the only man who lived to thank them for the warning.Others were incredulous, and soon paid the terrible price of unbelief.
The five hastened on, and as they went they looked about them with wondering eyes-there were so many houses, so many cultivated fields, and so many signs of a numerous population.They had emerged almost for the first time from the wilderness, excepting their memorable visit to New Orleans, although this was a very different region.Long Jim spoke of it.
"I think I like it better here than at New Or-leeyuns," he said.
