OLIN 
 
 E 
 
 235 
 
 .R32 
 
 1907a 
 
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 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 GIFT OF 
 Wm. E. Griffis 
 

 WITH SULLIVAN 
 
 IN 1779. 
 
 A tale of the War for Independ- 
 ence; relating certain events that 
 took place in Monroe County. Being 
 the journal of a forest runner, Edwin 
 Redwood. 
 
 Written for The Times Company 
 by M. R. Heilig, March, 1907. 
 
 Feeling that a recital of that part 
 which Monroe County took in the 
 Revolution will interest its readers 
 The Times Company has published 
 this story, whose scenes are so near 
 and so well known, in book form as 
 well as periodically. Its publishers 
 wish to thank Mr. J. S. Biesecker 
 for his courtesy in lending the writer 
 his rare and valuable copies of 
 Officers' journals. 
 
 STROUDSBURG PRINTING CO., 
 Stroudsburg, Pa. 
 
O, ^-' w> 
 
 7 
 
 A. "381 7 2°) 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 I Leave the Minisinks. 
 
 June 16. [1779] My father's last 
 request of me has been the hardest 
 with which to comply. He did not 
 know that it was to be his last, — 
 indeed, how different would his last 
 requests have been had the toma- 
 hawk of the red fiends spared him 
 to face a natural and peaceful end! 
 It would have been in the nature of 
 a blessing, I'm sure. But as a mat- 
 ter of fact, his last expressed wish 
 was that I should begin to keep a 
 journal, a daily account of whatso- 
 ever befell me, and how I contemplat- 
 ed things and people. It seemed 
 simple; for my father had been an 
 exemplary tutor; and I thought that 
 to record daily events in a blank 
 book would be great fun — almost 
 child's play, tho I had, too, a glim- 
 mering sense of the value of such a 
 procedure. But after a few stumb- 
 ling failures I lost interest and would 
 have given up had not my sentimen- 
 tal memory recurred so continually 
 to the last evening with my father 
 and his last request. He had just 
 said to me: "Ed, my boy, you will 
 be glad when you are older to read 
 of these eventful days on the frontier, 
 if your life is spared" — when with 
 deafening uproar amid the howls of 
 those treacherous demons, the door 
 of our cabin burst in. — I will never 
 record what followed; there is no 
 need. I know I can never fdrget it. 
 They left me for dead — my wound 
 throbs as I write of it — . I presume 
 my scalp was not taken because my 
 hair had just been closely cut. 
 
 My father's friend, Squire Daniel 
 VanCampen found me and really 
 saved my life. With him and his 
 family, I have lived ever since that 
 
awful event, which was only two 
 years ago lacking seven days, tho it 
 seems much longer to me. 
 
 I have resolved to offer my ser- 
 vices to the army down the river 
 ' which Gen. Gage will lead against 
 the Tories and their Indian Allies 
 west of the Susquehanna. I know 
 
 ► every inch of the ground — where the 
 streams are best forded — where the 
 marshes are penetrable — where nat- 
 ural ambushes are to be avoided — 
 where the rattlesnakes are too num- 
 erous for even an army to disturb — 
 where the gaps occur in the moun- 
 tains — where every Indian village 
 lies, and where poison ivy grows^ 
 Doubtless they will need guides — so 
 'Squire Van Campen thinks; but if 
 they already have enough, I can at 
 least volunteer as a private soldier. 
 
 In justice to my father who was 
 a model of Christian virtues I should 
 say that he ever sought to impress it 
 upon me that I should never be se- 
 duced by an instinct of revenge or 
 hate, to lay forceful. hands against any 
 man. But I confess that such an 
 instinct, as my father called it, seems 
 to be part of my intense desire to 
 help rid the land of these demons 
 masked in human forms. But, then, 
 too, I owe* it to his Excellency and 
 to the Continental Congres as a true 
 patriot to aid my country to fight all 
 her foes. I am now nineteen and can 
 
 "hit a straw at a hundred yards; and 
 without boasting, I can claim to have 
 run thirty miles at a stretch — which 
 qualifications ought to admit me to 
 tho ranks of Gage's army, I think — • 
 and so does Mr. Van Campen. At any 
 rate I will try. So then, tomorrow I 
 will start. 
 
 June 16. Last night just as I was 
 about tt> snuff out my tallow dip Mrs. 
 Van Campen knocked at my door. I 
 slipped into my outside clothes and 
 opened the door when she said she 
 wanted to talk to me. She gave me 
 . some well meant advice, and about 
 ' one-half of her New Testament and 
 a part of the Psalms which she had 
 torn out of her Bible. She said she 
 
could get along on what was left. I 
 was grateful to her; for I was very 
 sore at heart last night. She has been i 
 as kind as a mother to me. I asked 
 her about my mother, and she was 
 very quiet for awhile, and then said 
 that shortly after I had been born 
 my mother had disappeared myster- 
 iously, and it was thought that some 
 treacherous Indians had stolen her. 
 That much I had learned of my 
 father; but I had always wondered 
 that; father never told me anything 
 more of her, — never described her 
 ; never referred to her, indeed, — and 
 never mentioned having made any at- 
 tempt to find her. When I suggested 
 this to Mrs. Van Campen the tears 
 came to her eyes and she said: "Ed, 
 she was the most beautiful girl I ever 
 saw" — and that's all she would say. 
 After cautioning me again in a wo- 
 man's way she kissed me good-bye 
 and went out. 
 
 I sat on the block by my open 
 window listening to the crickets and 
 thinking of my beautiful mother. This 
 morning I awoke pretty stiff in my 
 neck from sleeping ali night with 
 my head and arms out of the window. 
 
 June 17. I didn't have time to 
 write yesterday. I found that the raft 
 I expected to use needed some repairs 
 so on account of that delay I had to 
 make my good byes short. 
 
 My baggage is light. I dislike the 
 least extra weight wnen running. I 
 brought three pairs of moccasins, — ■ 
 one pair 'Squire Van Campen gave 
 me; — and a couple homespun shirts; 
 and a couple hometanned breeches; 
 and while silk hose do not go well 
 with leather breeches, they must an- 
 swer; for I have none other. This 
 bundle, my journal, some ammuni- 
 tion and provisions, and my trusty 
 smooth-bore is all that burdened 
 my raft besides myself. The leaves 
 of the Bible I folded up and stuck in 
 an inside pocket which Mrs. Van 
 Campen had sewed to my shirt.While 
 I was in places where the river flow- 
 ed rather 'swiftly I read some of the 
 
pages which Mrs. Van Campen had 
 given me. 
 
 At about an hour after noon I 
 grew tired of paddling and felt, a dis- 
 position to eat. Hearing a couple of 
 bass voiced frogs along the shore of 
 llepew's Island which I was passing 
 I headed my craft on a rock, and un- 
 dressing, I swam down to their hid- 
 ing place. One I caught in mid air 
 as he leaped; a second I drove up the 
 sand bank; and a third evaded me. 
 They were monsters; and so, I got me 
 my dinner and a cool bath. 
 
 I was about to extinguish quite 
 the remaining embers of the fire over 
 which my frogs' legs had browned 
 when I heard a meadow-lark cry 
 that had a strange quality in it. With- 
 out knowing why I felt the tendons 
 of my neck contract and my nostrils 
 dilate. There was something in that 
 cry which set every sense in my body 
 on the alert and alarmed me. I tried 
 to reason with myself that it was my 
 nervous temperament, highly strung 
 by this novel adventure of traveling 
 alone from the Minisink to Easton on 
 a raft. But nevertheless I sat mo- 
 tionless for ten minutes listening for 
 .a reply. At last it came; and yet I 
 could not tell for the life of me, 
 whether a human's or a bird's throat 
 had caused it. 
 
 I arose, and avoiding twigs and 
 leaves, as if I were sneaking up to 
 clip off the rattlers of a sleeping 
 snake, I pushed through the under- 
 growth of the bank and glided into 
 the water, swimming under water as 
 far as I could, and at length gained 
 my raft. This I loosed and keeping 
 immersed all but my face, and close 
 to the left shore I floated with the 
 raft down stream for about a mile. 
 Here, under some thick overhanging 
 bushes I dressed, and after eating 
 some of the biscuits Mrs. Van Camp- 
 en had given me, I sat dozing, but 
 sub-consciously alert, until sunset. 
 
 I repented then of my rashness in 
 setting out in broad day light; — but 
 still it was common report among the 
 passers through, that the tribes of the 
 
Delaware and Mahackamack had left 
 these parts. Perhaps too my fears 
 were womanish imaginations for I 
 had not heard another lark since tak- 
 ing my ears out of the water — that is, 
 since I had been sitting on the raft 
 under the alders. I was losing good 
 time, and, too, the risk appealed to 
 me; so as soon as the shadows thick- 
 ened I pushed out into mid-stream. 
 1 looked about me and felt queer — 
 felt a bit religious, I guess. I tried 
 to recite the Psalm I had read in 
 the morning: "The heavens declare 
 the glory of God." It was a beauti- 
 ful, dark, starlight night; and the 
 music of insects and lapping wave- 
 lets on my raft were sweet to my 
 ears. On either side the black hills 
 glided past and back of me, as I 
 seemed to be floating in air. The 
 mysterious mists obscured the out- 
 lines of things and made the scene 
 weird and beautiful. And oh, the 
 sweet aroma of the fresh river and 
 wet grass and new leaves and that in- 
 describable night odor! I loved the 
 Minisinks and — would I ever hear 
 these tree toads and crickets sing 
 again? I tried to think whether 
 there is anything in life more beauti- 
 ful and desirable than just this that 
 1 was leaving — but my revery was 
 suddenly abridged. I had approach- 
 ed a narrows near the natural water 
 gap. Two big trees leaned over om- 
 inously and made the place very dark. 
 Just as I reached the darkest spot my 
 raft stopped — not as if it had struck 
 a rock, but as if some elastic check, 
 like a limb of a tree had interrupted 
 its progress. I arose to investigate 
 when a grip as of steel caught my 
 right ankle, and I was thrown vio- 
 lently on my face. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 We Begin the March. 
 
 Dimly conscious of a pain in my 
 head and wrists I emerged from a 
 stunned condition to find myself 
 bound hand and foot, and two dusky 
 aborigines quietly sitting by my side. 
 An infinite despair seized me at first 
 
and I almost wept. Father always 
 said that tears are for women and 
 children; but when a man sheds them 
 he is pitying himself, and nothing is 
 more contemptible. So I looked 
 from one to the other to see if I knew 
 their clan. But it was too dark. We 
 were still floating down stream — a 
 fact which puzzled me somewhat; for 
 I imagined that my captors knew my 
 destination. Why then had they not 
 taken me ashore? Or, Indeed, why 
 had they spared me at all? It was 
 plainly an exceptional procedure. I 
 addressed them in the tongue of the 
 Shawnees but they merely grunted. I 
 tried a few inquiries in the Delaware 
 dialect, but got no response save a 
 word or two which sounded like 
 "Mon-or-tag-ga-mon-ah," and which 
 I could not interpret; nor could I de- 
 cide from it to what nation they be- 
 longed. When I spoke again one put 
 his hand over my mouth, — but not 
 roughly. And later as I kept turning 
 my head from one side to the other 
 to ease the throbbing pain in my 
 brows one of the Indians lifted my 
 head and put my bundle under it. 
 This amazed me, but put me at my 
 ease. They did not mean to scalp me 
 at once and the longer they deferred 
 it the more hope of escape there was. 
 The first faint flush of dawn was 
 noticeable over the eastern ridge 
 when the faint roar of the rapids 
 ahead announced that we had made 
 remarkably good time and were 
 drawing near to my intended stop- 
 ping place. The Indians heard it as 
 soon as I did and stood up. After a 
 hurried consultation they bent over 
 me and cut my wrist bands and point- 
 ing to the river down stream and 
 handing me the pole made it evident 
 that they were not familiar with the 
 rapids and that I was to guide the 
 raft through. My heart bounded 
 with joy. I secretly felt for my knife 
 and it was there. I took the pole, 
 and while one Indian covered me 
 with my own rifle and the other 
 crouched with drawn knife, I stood 
 as best I could, with my. feet tied, 
 
ready to steer into the first big rock 
 I could conveniently make for. 
 
 We were right about in the most 
 rapid portion of the rapids when I 
 recognized a perilous spot between 
 two huge, smooth, oblong rocks, at 
 the other end of which was a boulder 
 which I concluded would just about 
 be under the surface as the river was 
 a foot higher than usual. Through 
 the passage we whirled like a shot 
 and crashed into the rock just as I 
 had calculated. I dived to the right 
 and then quickly behind the rock we 
 had struck where I knew the eddy 
 would help me, and by a mighty ef- 
 fort I gained a hand hold, though my 
 feet being tied I could not swim as 
 fast as I otherwise could have. 
 
 Holding my breath for possibly 
 two minutes I held fast to a niche in 
 the rock about two feet below the 
 surface; and then I cautiously put 
 out my head to relieve my lungs. It 
 was light enough to see that no one 
 was near; so cutting my ankles free, 
 1 swam on my back to the eastern 
 bank and carefully pushing through 
 the bushes struck the path which lies 
 not far from the river at this point. 
 I felt sick and faint and my head was 
 splitting. Moreover I was scared and 
 gave little thought to anything save 
 wild, aimless flight. I began to run; 
 and while it hurt my head, I was glad 
 to find my stomach getting better. 
 Stomach sickness always takes the 
 courage out of me. As I ran I began 
 to be amused at the stupidity of my 
 late captors, hut withal very maa 
 about the loss of my baggage and 
 rifle. I had often heard that the sav- 
 age combines fiendish cunning with; 
 I the most laughable stupidity. And 
 here was a case of it. 
 
 But I am using too much space irt 
 my blank book on trivial stuff — to b& 
 brief, I came to Easton ferry with- 
 out much adventure — except to kill 
 a seven-foot blacksnake which lay in 
 my path. 
 
 It was two hours or more after 
 sunrise when I arrived and I was just 
 in time to join a party about to ferry 
 
across into Easton. Among the party 
 was a distinguished looking clergy- 
 man whom I later in the day found 
 - to be the Rev. William Rogers, * of 
 Philadelphia. - He spoke pleasantly to 
 me and was much interested in my 
 account of the trip down the river 
 and my escape. When we landed I 
 made myself as useful to the party 
 as possible. There was a young lady 
 in the party; not very pretty, except 
 for her brown eyes and pretty hair, 
 and lips. Her color is fine too and 
 she is about the right size. I heard 
 her wonder how I had been able to 
 run from the Rapids to Easton in so 
 short a time and I concluded she 
 lived in Philadelphia, where, my fa- 
 ther used to say, everybody goes to 
 
 • Quaker meetings and takes life easy. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 I concluded to wait until Rev. Rog- 
 ers would return from Gen. Sullivan 
 (for they say he is to command the 
 expedition and not Gen Gage). So I 
 took care of the horses; and in order 
 not to be embarrassed, since the girl 
 had decided to wait also for the par- 
 ty and to sit under a tree reading 
 some book or other near the river 
 banks, I busied myself cleaning the 
 horses, though they didn't need it 
 much. Sometimes I thought I saw 
 her looking at me. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 At about ten o'clock Rev. Rogers 
 came back; and while he was telling 
 me that my services would doubtless 
 be gladly received and I would be 
 supplied as soon as possible with a 
 rifle, I gave a yell of surprise and 
 joy to see my very own raft ap- 
 proaching, intact, and on it, the two 
 Indians and all my baggage. 
 
 I explained to the domine and we 
 went down to meet them; for I no 
 longer doubted that they were friend- 
 ly Indians who were going to act like 
 myself as guides. I saw by their blue 
 beaded belt totum sign that they are 
 friendly Oneidas, and probably came 
 from near Stockbridge in Massachus- 
 etts where a friend of Rev. Rogers 
 converted a number of the savages. 
 
 10 
 
They were evidently neither surpris- 
 ed nor pleased to see me. They re- 
 fused to surrender my rifle and 
 throwing my bundle at my feet they 
 walked away toward the town. I 
 gaped after them not knowing what 
 to make of it. 
 
 I knew soon enough. Rev. Rogers 
 who evidently is much interested in 
 me assured me that the question 
 would solve itself; and together we 
 resaddled the horses and prepared to 
 go to Gen. Sullivan's headquarters. 
 But as we were about starting a de- 
 tachment of soldiers and the two In- 
 dians appeared. I was told that I 
 was under arrest; and without much 
 ceremony nor gentleness, I was hur- 
 ried away. I saw the girl jump up, 
 dropping her book, as the soldiers 
 grabbed me. 
 
 Rev. Rogers interposed, protesting, 
 as he said, that, "tho there were 
 cause for my arrest, there was no 
 occasion for my being so roughly 
 handled." 
 
 To be brief, I was taken for a spy! 
 "Merciful heavens! What proof is 
 there?" I asked. "This," replied 
 an officer holding up the torn-out 
 leaves of the Bible which I had not 
 missed. I laughed, I couldn't help 
 it. But in the midst of my mirth, 
 I remembered a story of my father's 
 about a spy who carried a book in 
 which he marked on every fifth page 
 the words necessary to convey the 
 sense of his message. Perhaps I was 
 suspected of that sort of strategy. I 
 grew sober and asked that the papers 
 be examined and ventured to explain 
 how I came in possession of the Holy 
 Writ. No one interrupted me, and 
 as I finished Rev. Rogers express- 
 ed entire satisfaction with my story. 
 The Indians were questioned through 
 an interpreter, another minister Rev. 
 Kirkland, Rev. Rogers' friend, whose 
 converts the Indians were; and after 
 a little debate by themselves the of- 
 ficers came to me to apologize, and re- 
 . turned the sheets of Scripture to me. 
 
 11 
 
I heard the Indians give that un- 
 mistakable grunt which means" as 
 you like it," and saw them tread 
 away as quietly as panthers. I 
 learned during the day that four 
 Stockbridge Indians are to guide us; 
 and that these two had traced a Tory 
 spy down into our neighborhood and 
 had mistaken me for him. I dined 
 with Rev. Rogers at Colonel Barber's 
 marquee. During the afternoon I 
 slept and wrote the above in my re- 
 covered journal. Tomorrow I will 
 meet General Sullivan I hope. There 
 is a large bump on my forehead. 
 
 June 18. — Last night it was an- 
 nounced that the army would move 
 at four this morning. As I was strol- 
 ling about the town in the cool of the 
 evening — and it is a rather pretty 
 town, Easton is, — I met the damsel 
 with whom I had crossed on the fer- 
 ry. She was alone, it seemed, and 
 I addressed her as civilly as I could, 
 but she tossed her head and ignored 
 me. I felt myself blush for evident- 
 ly I had done wrong. I have heard 
 that there are certain foolish cere- 
 monies and observances which dis- 
 tinguish the courtier. Well, I'll 
 
 none of it. They never make fight- 
 ers. 
 
 ****** Upon the firing 
 of a cannon at four a. m. the expe- 
 dition began. 
 
 To day has been a busy one and the 
 soldiers are tired. Being used to it 
 1 feel fresh and cheerful. I tried 
 during the day to talk to the Indians. 
 They make an odd sound like "Mon- 
 yompf" which Rev. Kirkland says 
 -means something about a funny mis- 
 take. They are evidently amiable 
 enough, and often chuckle and slap 
 me on my back until my teeth rattle, 
 — their way of showing affection, l 
 was rather astonished to find the 
 brown-eyed damsel with a party of 
 gentlemen and ladies accompanying 
 the army. I hear they will cross the 
 Blue Ridge and sojourn on the other 
 side at Brinker's Mills. I thought 
 at one time that she was beckoning 
 to me, and I shot off into the forest 
 
 12 
 
with all dispatch. I can't understand 
 why I keep worrying about her. 
 Every time I see her I get a queer 
 unpleasant sensation. I'm afraid 
 this is very silly stuff to put in my 
 diary. But then no one needs see it 
 but myself, and my father used to 
 say "Write down just what you do 
 and feel, no matter how compromis- 
 ing; — if you commit a crime and are 
 betrayed by what you have written, 
 you deserve it. If you feel ungener- 
 ously you will bethink you how ill 
 it will look in the journal, and thus 
 profit by that counter motive." 
 
 There must be a thousand men in 
 the army. This certainly is roman- 
 tic. I love this life. * * * Gen- 
 eral Maxwell's brigrade is in front. 
 I haven't made sure of the next bri- 
 grade's commander, General Poor's 
 comes next, afterwards the baggage, 
 the regiment band and the damsel's 
 party. I heard her laugh at noon 
 today. She has a musical voice. 
 
 & fy :£ ^; :%: if: $t -i; & :[: $ 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 At Brinker's Mills. 
 
 June 19. — Last night was eventful 
 to me. We had gotten comfortably 
 encamped for the night at - Heller's 
 'Tavern*,, on the east side of the 
 mountain, near the gap called by 
 some.Wind Gap; and I had just ac- 
 cepted the Indians invitation — con- 
 veyed with much trouble — to share 
 their quarters for the night, when 
 Rev. Rogers came up the little em- 
 bankment on which we were located, 
 and asked me if I would like to meet 
 Major-General Sullivan and Brigadier 
 -General Maxwell. I demurred at first 
 but then bethought me of my present 
 uncertain, — unofficial, position, and 
 went with him. 
 
 To my intense embarrassment, the 
 damsel and her party-"were in head- 
 quarters sipping tea with a number 
 of gentlemen. "My friends" began 
 the domine "here is a young man 
 whose friendship I value very much," 
 
 * The present Hellersville. 
 
 13 
 
upon which I felt my neck and face 
 burn. "He is here to offer his ser- 
 vices as a guide; and judging from 
 his clever escape from two Indians 
 just recently, I know he can take 
 care of himself." He said much 
 more which it would t>e vanity to 
 record, and at his finishing Gen. 
 Sullivan came to me put both his 
 hands on my shoulders and told me 
 he would be very glad to accept my 
 services, for he had had much trouble 
 in getting reliable white guides. 
 Then he wheeled me around and in- 
 troduced me to all the gentlemen, the- 
 three ladies and the damsel. They 
 were a very comfortable company to- 
 be with; for I saw no one ill-manner- 
 ed enough to stare at my inappro- 
 priate clothes; and they all spoke 
 pleasantly. The damsel smiled when 
 I bowed to her; and as I happened to 
 stand near her when Rev. Rogers 
 concluded introducing me, I screwed 
 up my courage to the sticking point 
 and talked to her. When I found 
 her even more embarrassed than I 
 had been, I became remarkably com- 
 , posed and at ease. 
 *********** 
 
 General Maxwell is a splendid man. 
 He asked about my father, and my 
 earlier life, and when I had learned 
 letters. When I told him I enjoy 
 Shakespeare he said he has a volume 
 with him and that I may have it at 
 any time I want it. 
 
 This morning I looked for my 
 friends, Rev. Rogers and Rev. 
 Kirkland, but learned they had pro- 
 ceeded on horseback to Brinker's 
 Mills last night. Rev. Kirkland has 
 a peculiar, tenacious cold, so I pre- 
 sume it was on his account. He 
 sneezes a dozen times in succession, 
 sometimes. When the troojjs got to 
 the highest point in the Gap, the van 
 was met by Captain Luke Brodhead 
 who has charge of the ammunition 
 and stores awaiting the army at 
 Brinker's Mills. He told us of the 
 horrible calamity which befell a 
 party at the hands of the savages, 
 just a few days ago, coming from 
 
 14 
 
Fort Penn**, about fifteen miles to 
 the north. He informed Gen. Sul- 
 livan, in my hearing, that the road 
 made last month by the regiments of 
 
 VanCortlandt and — *** are 
 
 "very rough and difficult to travel." 
 He said too, that the meats had larg- 
 ely spoiled on account of tne long 
 wait and hot weather. 
 
 The army is in bad condition. I 
 gave one of my shirts to a poor fel- 
 low whose appearance was really in- 
 decent. Some of the men carry their 
 boots in their hands, whenever they 
 can stand to walk barefooted, to save 
 their boots. A couple of pioneers 
 have joined us, who are attired as 
 John the Baptist is described — and 
 they seem to be fond of honey, too. 
 
 The march from Easton was over 
 a rough country. There was nothing 
 to be seen but hills, stones, trees and 
 underbrush. I was endeavoring to 
 get a good chance to show Miss Lark 
 (Elizabeth Lark is the damsel's 
 name) a beautiful flower I had found, 
 during a long rest at noon, when I 
 had a fine opportunity to be gallant. 
 She and her aunt were picking yel- 
 low violets, they called them, father 
 always called them dogtooth-lilies; 
 and as I approached, I heard her 
 aunt exclaim and jump back. I ran 
 up just in time to break the back of 
 a copper-head snake as he lay coiled 
 ready to strike. I showed the ladies 
 the snake's fangs, and explained how 
 they strike but never really bite. 
 *********** 
 
 1 taught Miss Lark how to graft, 
 and explained how it is advantageous 
 in cultivated orchards. I also show- 
 ed her how to make a fire with flint 
 strikes. She thanked me for "all the 
 things" I had "told" her and "had 
 done" for her. Great Jupiter, I 
 haven't done anything! She is not 
 beholden to me. She certainly is 
 pretty and doesn't murder the 
 
 **Stroudsburg. 
 
 ***Spencer, is the name Redwood 
 did not know. 
 
Queen's vernacular, as most damsel's 
 I've met do. 
 *********** 
 
 General Maxwell came to me as we 
 were coming to Brinker's this morn- 
 ing and asked me if I would remain 
 a couple of days at the stores here at 
 Brinker's, with a detachment of six 
 men and horses, to see if the expect- 
 ed supply of provisions and blanketa 
 comes within that time. I gladly 
 complied. Miss Lark and her party 
 are to tarry here several weeks I 
 have learned. The troops drew only 
 four days provisions this morning. I 
 ran ahead to Brinker's Mills after 
 Rev. Rogers, to explain my appoint- 
 ment. He congratulated me and said 
 I was being promoted rather early. 
 He and Rev. Kirkland, Dr. Hunter 
 and Rev. Evans are mounted and fol- 
 low the scouts in the van about a 
 mile ahead "of Gen. Maxwell's bri- 
 gade. They left at about seven of 
 the clock this morning. I told Rev. 
 Rogers I was sorry I would be unable 
 to hear him preach tomorrow. He is 
 one of the chaplains of the expedition 
 
 Captain Brodhead and Captain Pat- 
 erson are very jovial. They arrang- 
 ed a May pole dance for the ladies 
 and the rest of us this afternoon. 
 After it was over we had running 
 and jumping and pulling contests. 
 I gave everybody twenty yards and 
 beat to the hundred mark. In jump- 
 ing, I met my match in a native, here, 
 by the name of Wm. Savage, who 
 lives out near Learn's Tavern, he 
 says. He jumped twelve feet on a 
 standing jump. The whole after- 
 noon was very pleasant. Miss Lark 
 and her friends enjoyed everything 
 enthusiastically. Since I am the only 
 one Miss Lark knows personally she 
 was naturally interested to see me 
 win. I asked her if I might see her 
 after the evening meal. She said 
 that she didn't think it would be 
 proper. 
 
 June 2 — Oh, the sunrise was 
 beautiful this morning, and it smiled 
 a golden greeting to a day of destiny, 
 
as it seems. But first, my quill, last 
 night! 
 
 I was grinding some dried poke- 
 weed berries for ink, on a fallen tree 
 near the cabin by the supply station, 
 about twenty minutes before sunset. 
 Several times I caught sight of Eliza- 
 beth; and when I was pretty sure 
 that she saw me I walked slowly over 
 the rise of ground toward the large 
 look-out rocks. There I settled my- 
 self, half concealed and comfortable, 
 ^ to watch the red sun sink behind the 
 " Pqkohono ridge. I waited about an 
 hour, and was about concluding that 
 1 had hoped in vain that she would 
 ignore her Philadelphian ideas of 
 propriety, when I saw her walking in 
 the deepening shadows of the ground 
 oaks half way down the clearing. I 
 went down to her at once. She seem- 
 -ed surprised to see me and frighten- 
 ed. She said her nerves had been 
 upset by the awful story that a man 
 named Learn had been telling in the 
 cabin. She had come out to work off 
 her nervousness and had walked far- 
 ther than she thought. We talked a 
 long time. She told me that she had 
 "heard that this man Butler whom we 
 are going to fight is a fiend in man's 
 form and that he marries every beau- 
 tiful woman he sees. I said, "then 
 he must never see you." She laugh- 
 ed. Her laugh reminds me of the 
 brook behind 'Squire Van Campen's 
 •clearing. 
 *********** 
 
 She asked if I could get a horse for 
 "her to ride "just around the settle- 
 ment," as she put it. I said I thought 
 I could and asked whether I might 
 ride with her. She said her aunt is 
 favorably impressed with me and 
 she believed she could get her con- 
 sent; "for out here we don't have to 
 act by rule." That was a funny 
 thing for her to say about her aunt. 
 *********** 
 
 Learn's story certainly was sad. 
 He had been out in the fields and 
 was about to return to his house 
 when he saw a red-skin drop behind 
 a stone pile. He went behind a bush 
 
 17 
 
and held his hat on the end of a stick 
 just above the edge of the bush. He 
 waited only a few seconds, when, 
 "crack," went a rifle and the hat was 
 pierced. He let it fall to one side, 
 and lay in wait. And shortly the 
 savage arrived, with his scalping" 
 knife ready for work. Learn felled 
 him with one blow; but to his horror, 
 saw three scalps which he recognized 
 as his mother's, father's and sister's. 
 Coming to his cabin he found a scene 
 which it only horrifies one to de- 
 scribe. 
 
 This day being Sunday, Captain . 
 Brodhead tried to arrange for some 
 sort of religious services, but it fen 
 through. Captain Patterson suggest- 
 ed more games, which idea the ladies 
 discounted. About three hours be- 
 fore noon I procured two bridle- 
 learned mares, and gave the quail's 
 cry agreed upon, to call Elizabeth. 
 She came, looking fairer than I had) 
 ever seen her. She wore a perpetual, 
 smile and it became her. 
 
 We had ridden to the lake and 
 back twice when Captain Patterson 
 rushed out to me with his arms wav- 
 ing, "My God, boy," he began, "tear 
 after Sullivan as fast as you can, or 
 we will all be starved out." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Bide to Jjearn's Tavern * 
 
 I drew over and grasped the bridle 
 of Elizabeth's mare. 
 
 "What is it, Captain, are we — be- 
 sieged?" I stammered, blushing to 
 think I had been caught off duty. 
 
 "Worse than that," he replied, 
 "there aren't any redskins about to 
 make a holiday, but General Sulli- 
 van rode off with the keys to the 
 magazines and store rooms; — forgot 
 'em, I guess. And the scullions are 
 devoid of the wherewith to satisfy 
 the inner man." 
 
 I was greatly relieved to know that 
 
 *Now Tannersville. 
 
this was the sole import of his dem- 
 onstrations. My father would have 
 criticised his rhetoric, — the intro- 
 duction promised too much. 
 
 We talked the matter over; and I 
 decided to use a horse as far as Point 
 Pokono, from which place I could 
 travel faster on foot. Leaving the< 
 horses still saddled, I went to get a. 
 light lunch before starting. Eliza- 
 beth sat down by me as I hastily 
 munched it; and astonished me by 
 asking me to take her with me as far 
 as Learn's tavern." 
 
 "Why, my dear girl, I must ride- 
 like wild," I said. 
 
 "I can keep up to you," she whis- 
 pered, leaning toward me and breath- 
 ing hard in her excitement; "didn't 
 I beat you around the lake?" I had 
 to acknowledge that she was a very 
 remarkable horsewoman. 
 
 "But, your aunt," I objected. — 
 
 "I'll leave a note, — and she is so 
 taken up with that Major Hollins- 
 head, she won't miss me; — and we 
 can be back before dark." 
 
 By this time I wanted her to go 
 more than I had ever wanted any- 
 thing; but I felt compelled to say: 
 "I am afraid of mishap. What if 
 some accident befell you?" 
 
 "O, you'll take me," she cried,, 
 jumping up and putting her hand on 
 my arm. Great Jupiter, that touch 
 was equivalent to a long draught of 
 
 TTTn-p/il 5#S 3|t St? ♦ ♦ *!• S|* >l* 'f 1 
 
 "J wonder what Aunt Martha will 
 say," she laughed, as we dashed, 
 down a stony, barren hillside into a 
 cool pine forest. A lazy, full-bellied 
 "'•black bear rested under a hemlock^ 
 near the edge of the wood, and sent 
 terror to the heart of my mare, who, 
 flew like a meteor through the forest 
 aisles, at a great risk of unsaddling 
 me and of breaking her own neck. I 
 halted her on a slight eminence, and 
 waited for Elizabeth, whose horse 
 had not seen the bear, nor even got- 
 ten the scent, being windward of the 
 beast. I would I could paint that 
 picture! I never saw a more grace- 
 
 19 
 
ful rider! I never saw a nobler for- 
 est! 
 
 "In answer to your question, Miss 
 .Lark, I would — " 
 
 "O don't 'Miss Lark' me. Call me 
 Elizabeth, will you? Do you know, 
 I dreamed of something like this last 
 night." 
 
 "Was — I — with you?" I managed. 
 
 "Yes," leaning over to arrange her 
 skirts. 
 
 "1 am glad I can be In your 
 thoughts at some time." 
 
 "Look, there is a fine stretch to 
 canter," she said, smiling and dart- 
 ing ahead. 
 
 We raced for a mile or more when 
 we stopped for the horses' sake. 
 
 "Oh, what were you going to say, 
 back in the pine grove? I interrupt- 
 ed you," she began. 
 
 "Nothing of importance, I fear — > 
 at least it has slipped my mind." I 
 *answered, and then we proceeded 
 quietly for a long time; for the path 
 was rough and swampy. I did not 
 tell her of the bear lest it should 
 alarm her. 
 
 Learn's tavern was all too close 
 to Brinker's Mills. I don't think we 
 •were more than two hours on the 
 way. We found only four people 
 there. One was a soldier who had 
 suffered exhaustion from heat. 
 Another had a bandaged leg; he said 
 it was broken. The other two took 
 our horses and, I inquired whether 
 there were any women at the tavern, 
 -waiting breathless for the reply; for 
 the dilemma of there not being any 
 one with whom I could safely leave 
 Elizabeth had not occurred to me. 
 
 "No," was the awful response. 
 - "There's an ol' squaw here — a 
 mite withered in the cerebrum; — ■ 
 come to ask Sullivan to spare her ba- 
 bies. Lord! she hain't had none in 
 fifty year, Egad!" This, from the 
 ■other woodsman. 
 
 There was a little relief in that; 
 and I went to see her. She was clean 
 ■ — for an Indian; and when Elizabeth 
 came in, following me, she said that 
 the two of them could take care of 
 
 lA 
 
themselves. I left my gun with her 
 and arranged with the man in charge ' 
 to give her a room by herself. I 
 hated to part' with my gun; but I had 
 to do It; — and then, too, I can run 
 better without it. 
 
 "We ben speculatin' on your mo- 
 tive in comin' here, young 'un," be- 
 gan the man with a broken leg, "be 
 you married and runnin' away, for- 
 sooth?" 
 
 I explained as best I could, and 
 asked how long the army had been 
 on the march; and to my delight, 
 found that they had not left before 
 eight of the clock. I knew that with 
 the heavy stores and howitzers, and 
 the tenderness of the unhardened sol- 
 diers, they could not have covered 
 more in the last five hours than I 
 could, running, in one. I glanced at 
 the sun, and thought that, without 
 mishap, we could indeed be back to 
 Brinker's Mills before dark. I was a 
 little stiff from riding, but soon be- 
 came limber, and I ran well. The 
 trail was unmistakable, and I could 
 go most of the time at a steady eight- 1 
 miles-an-hour rate. I had run about 
 an hour, when" to my joy and antici- 
 pation I was halted by a sentinel. 
 
 General Sullivan was chagrined , 
 that he had forgotten to leave the •-' 
 keys. I found Rev. Rogers and him 
 about to sit down to midday refresh- 
 ments, tho it was near three of the ■' 
 clock. They had chowder made of 
 trout, freshly caught out of White 
 Oak Run; — from which fact Gen. 
 Sullivan said the camp should be 
 called "Chowder Camp.'' * 
 
 The rations were "short, and I 
 heard many of the men grumbling 
 about being hungry. The artillery 
 soldiers killed and fried some rattle- 
 snakes. They are tolerable, when 
 parboiled first; but I prefer venison. 
 The domine pressed me to rest; but 
 I paused only long enough to partake 
 of some chowder, over which I asked 
 him to say a grace; — which tribute 
 to his office I think pleased him. He 
 
 *The present Hungry Hill. 
 
 21 
 
said that on account of the fatigue 
 of the troops there had not been, nor 
 would be, any preaching today. 
 
 My return, as my going, was un- 
 eventful. As I approached the tav- 
 ern I experienced again that foolish 
 indescribable sensation — 
 (A page of the diary missing, here.) 
 — prevent my tears from forming, 
 but I couldn't. She isn't insane, as 
 they say; — she is a poetess, a nat- 
 ural orator; and she is broken heart- 
 ed over the loss of her husband, and 
 sons, — whom she calls her wolflngs. 
 Poor creature "I pity her." 
 
 Elizabeth had given me a new view 
 of savage life; and I was disturbed 
 to find that a mere girl could so in- 
 fluence my opinion as to silence me 
 on the one subject which usually 
 called forth an impassioned argu- 
 ment. My father used to say, 
 "strive to keep the golden middle 
 'twixt stubborness and credence." 
 I was silent, and we urged our 
 horses; for I feared the sun would 
 sink behind the bold high knob of 
 Pokono Point before we got through 
 the pine forest. And it did. We reach- 
 ed the Mills an hour after sunset. 
 Elizabeth's aunt was pretty well wor- 
 ried. 
 
 I spent the evening writing the 
 above. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Life's Little Stage. 
 
 June 21. — Last night, Sol Bossink, 
 a half-wit, knocked at my door as I 
 was about falling asleep and gave me 
 a note. It was from Elizabeth and 
 read: 
 My gallant and obliging sir: 
 
 I beg of you, do not mind what my 
 aunt may say to you; — she is storm- 
 ing, but her reproof doesn't move 
 me. I wouldn't have missed the ride 
 for worlds. Very humbly, I am truly, 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 It was well written and well spell- 
 ed. 
 
 This morning Cap. Patterson ven- 
 tured to criticise my "rash conduct." 
 
 22 
 
I intimated that it was my risk and 
 loss, not his. Didn't see Elizabeth 
 all morning. Felt restless and sad- 
 dle sore. At noon I nearly shot 
 Quando one of the two Indians who 
 returned with a sealed letter from 
 Gen. Sullivan, telling me to hasten 
 on to lead the way, as a couple 
 friendly (?) Indians had deserted. 
 Quando appeared suddenly from be- 
 hind a tree only twenty yards away. 
 These savages are as quiet-footed as 
 catamounts. Father once said, when 
 we saw a centipede, "My son, could 
 anything be less noisy than its hun- > 
 dred foot-falls?" When I said no, 
 he replied: "Why, yes, there could; 
 — one of its feet makes only one 
 one-hundredth as much noise as all 
 its feet." Quando laughed heartily 
 — but silently — at my surprise. I 
 hate their infernal sneaking. And I 
 always mistrust a person who laughs 
 without making any noise. 
 
 There was nought to do but obey. 
 The orders read, to give my "auth- 
 ority to Major Hollinshead" and in- 
 struct him to "escort the provisions 
 by water, as soon as they arrive and 
 can be gotten to the Tobyhanna or 
 Tunkhannock creek," — directions 
 rather vague, and betraying an un- 
 familiarity with the water ways of 
 
 the vicinity. 
 
 * ***** ***** 
 
 The ladies, I was informed had 
 gone for a stroll with Major Hollins- 
 head and William Barton, "all ex- 
 cept Miss Lark, — and her aunt." I 
 think the gilly made the rhetorical 
 pause to see what effect it would 
 have. I wondered why Aunt Martha 
 had been prevailed upon to remain 
 at home when Hollinshead was the 
 escort. I knew that she is subject 
 to headaches, and that might be the 
 reason. Or she may have stayed in 
 the cabin to keep me from riding 
 away with Elizabeth again. I gave 
 the quail's cry but there was no re- 
 sponse. Suddenly it occurred to me 
 that I would go boldly into her pres- 
 ence and apologize for being late the 
 evening before. I had tapped twice, 
 
 23 
 
lightly, when the door opened and 
 Elizabeth stood before me. I ex- 
 plained my errand, and she indica- 
 ted silence with her finger on her lips. 
 Her aunt was asleep. She had a 
 headache, sure enough. We walked 
 quietly out of the cabin, into the 
 clearing, and over to the rocks. 
 
 "I must go to the army at once, — ■ 
 Elizabeth," I said. It cost me a 
 blush, chameleon that I am. Eliza- 
 beth blushed also. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Redwood, I am so sorry. 
 Why must you go?" 
 
 Then I asked how she would ex- 
 pect me to address her "Elizabeth" 
 unless she would address me "Ed- 
 win." This led to a mutual agree- 
 ment, and we followed it by discuss- 
 ing the rapidity of our becoming ac- 
 quainted, and the things we like or 
 dislike in common; — so that we talk- 
 ed an hour before reverting to the 
 situation. I told her again that I 
 must go. She was silent awhile, and 
 then asked, "Will you come back? or 
 won't I ever see you again?" I an- 
 swered that it depends upon the for- 
 tunes of war; but I would hope to 
 meet her again, sometime. 
 * * * * * * * * * * * 
 
 For two hours I heard the hum 
 of the breeze which I created, as I 
 ran. Quando was a stealthier treader 
 than I, and every time I snapped a 
 twig I could see him smile in con- 
 tempt. I was busy with my thoughts, 
 however, and gave him no attention. 
 My thoughts were rather ill-defined 
 and incoherent. I alternately want- 
 ed a thousand things, or burst, near- 
 ly, with a feeling of my soul's opu- 
 lence. I ran upon a rattler in my 
 absence of mind. He struck at me 
 but Quando's knife caught him in 
 mid air: — a remarkable eye, Quan- 
 do has. My father used to tell me 
 that I'd experience a great change 
 of opinion, and acquire many new 
 and enigmatic sensations as I grow 
 into manhood. It appears to be the 
 case. (An erasure here for sev^jjal 
 lines). 
 
 24 
 
I called Quando to me, and writ- 
 ing a message on a torn out page of 
 this book — It took me many minutes 
 to write it — I dispatched him back, 
 to Elizabeth. He did not seem to 
 mind it in the least. When he was 
 out of sight I began to wonder 
 whether I had been imprudent. I 
 busied my mind justifying myself. 
 
 June 22. — I crossed a fresh trail 
 this morning shortly after starting 
 out. It didn't look like an Indian's. 
 Slept on the ground without fire last 
 night. Came to tracks of the army 
 at highest noon, in a gap of the Moo- 
 sick Hills at the swamp, called Bear 
 Swamp. Recognized the place by a 
 splendid tulip tree which my father 
 and I discovered in '7 4. Saw evi- 
 dences of attempts to build log roads. 
 The troops must have had trouble to 
 get through. 
 
 June 23. — Yesterday afternoon I 
 had a queer experience. I was wading 
 down a stream, simply to throw 
 off the trail any chance follower, 
 when I caught the sounds of a strug- 
 gle in the underbrush to my right. I 
 thought it some wild animals, when a 
 human voice, choked or exhausted, 
 or fear-stricken, I could not tell, 
 bawled out, "You slimy, foul brood 
 of Satan! You're my meat, or I'm 
 death's! Ha, ha! Take that! Oh!" 
 
 I approached as quickly and as 
 quietly as possible, and beheld a 
 gruesome sight. A man in the ex- 
 treme state of dilapidation, unarmed 
 save for a club, hatless and barefoot- 
 ed, was feebly attempting to beat 
 down two immense rattlesnakes. He 
 was thin and pale, and a flush of red 
 was in his cheeks and a glistening in 
 his bulging eyes. When he saw me 
 he jumped from the reptiles, and 
 raising his arms he laughed a crack- 
 ling laugh, and shouted. "Ha! 
 Snakes or Tories — it doesn't make 
 much difference! Shoot quick, or — " 
 I shot; but not at him. I hit my 
 mark, — the head of the nearest rat- 
 tler, which was bent back in a tense 
 spiral, ready to lunge, with its death 
 dealing strike. The man sank in a 
 
 2 5 
 
heap as I killed the second and 
 watched me as a terrorized sheep 
 might watch a wolf. "I'm not a 
 Tory," I assured him, going over to 
 where he lay. He stared at me 
 awhile, tried to get up, and then fell 
 back in a faint. When I had revived 
 him 1 set about frying one of the 
 snakes, and while it fried, I went 
 over to the stream, and baiting with 
 a beetle a hook on a line which I car- 
 ried in my cap, I lay on the bank and 
 soon caught two fish, a trout and a 
 chub. These I dressed and put over 
 the fire. The man ate ravenously. 
 He had a horrible story to relate. 
 Mine was the first fire he had seen in 
 twenty days. For forty days he had 
 existed on the raw flesh of fish or 
 snakes or pheasants that he had been 
 able to capture. In April he had 
 been taken prisoner by two Tories, 
 ' two Tuscaroras and seven Delawares. 
 After being carried through a long 
 tract of country and experiencing the 
 severest usage and cruelest treatment 
 he had the good fortune to escape at 
 night while the others slept. They 
 were only 6ne day's march from 
 Chemung, so he just got away in 
 time. He was obliged, however, to 
 leave his only son and two other boys 
 behind, — a circumstance which af- 
 fected him greatly as he related it. 
 To my great surprise he told me he 
 lived near the Minisinks. His name 
 is Hosea Goodman, of whom I have 
 heard Mrs. VanCampen speak once 
 or twice. He knew my mother. He 
 seemed excited when I asked him, 
 and said he would speak of that mat- 
 ter later, if he lived to reach Sulli- 
 van's army. 
 
 We proceeded as fast as possible; 
 but Goodman was very weak and my 
 moccasins"* were a bit tight for him. I 
 tried to solve the puzzle, — this mys- 
 tery, which seems to surround my 
 mother. Mrs. VanCampen bad wept. 
 This man had become excited, and, 
 it had appeared, a trifle sad after the 
 excitement subsided. Could my 
 mother have disgraced her name? I 
 can't believe that. 
 
 26 
 
Goodman was full of gratitude, 
 both to me and Providence for his 
 deliverance. At times I feared the 
 exposures and tortures he had en- 
 dured, had affected his mind; for he 
 would lapse into reveries, from 
 which he would rouse himself with a 
 cry and shudder that told on my 
 nerves. 
 
 It was near midnight when" we 
 reached the army.^ I saw their camp 
 fires just after dark, having climbed 
 a tall pine on the brow of a hill, 
 which I think is the knob known as 
 "Brown Knoll," about ten miles from 
 Wyoming. I half carried Goodman 
 the rest of the way — about three 
 miles; and perhaps saved his life by 
 getting him there when I did. He has 
 been better today. His fever is not 
 so high as it was before dawn this 
 a. m. 
 
 I was glad to see Rev. Rogers and 
 General Maxwell again. These two, 
 with Dr. Hagan, the head surgeon, 
 helped me make Goodman comforta- 
 ble. Mr. Ewing another doctor came 
 to see him. at noon and told me he 
 will be all right when he has rested. 
 
 I got permission to sleep in one of 
 the lighter store carts this afternoon 
 as I was very much in need of sleep. 
 I was oblivious to everything until 
 the aroma of onions and venison 
 awoke me at six o'clock. The stop- 
 ping of the cart had not even awak- 
 ened me. 
 
 Rev. Kirkland and I had an argu- 
 ment on the subject of Indians. Af- 
 ter expressing my hatred _and dis- 
 gust for them, I felt compelled for 
 conscience' sake to mention what 1 
 termed an exception to the Indian's 
 usual perfidy, namely Quando's skil- 
 ful slaying of tne snake that struck . 
 at me. Several gentlemen from 
 Philadelphia were incredulous. One 
 of them who sat near Rev. Kirkland, 
 said, "You owe your life to a red 
 man. Does that suggest any course 
 of action to you?" I resented his re- 
 mark for some reason; but I merely 
 answered that I had been saved by a 
 
 9.7 
 
friend — that color and race had noth- 
 ing to do with it — that had Quando 
 been a hostile red man he would not 
 have saved me; while had he been a 
 hostile white man he would. I said, 
 too, that it is a man's duty to fight 
 his country's enemies in formal war- 
 fare, whether they are personal 
 friends or not. This started a rather 
 deep discussion among the gentle- 
 men, in which I found a great deal of 
 • enjoyment, but took no part. 
 
 I should mention that while I was 
 sleeping in the store wagon, we pass- 
 ed the spot where Captain Davis, 
 Lieutenant Jones and four or five 
 others were scalped, tomahawked, 
 speared and mutilated by twenty or 
 more Indians. Two boards mark the 
 graves of Davis and Jones. Th« lat- 
 ter's own blood can be seen on the 
 one board. A gloom settled over the 
 men as we came to this place. When 
 the music played Roslin Castle, so 
 Rev. Rogers told me later in the 
 evening, many wet eyes were seen 
 among the soldiers. 
 
 About three miles S. E. of Wyom- 
 ing we got a fine view of the valley 
 below from an elevation. The pano- 
 ramic scene was so pretty and im- 
 pressive that the men seemed reviv- 
 ed, — it was like a draught to a thirsty 
 man. Down in the deserted settle- 
 ment we were to encamp until pro- 
 visions arrived from Sunbury or from 
 "Sullivan's Stores," at Brinker's 
 Mills. As the sun was setting — a 
 great scarlet ball — we did not press 
 on, but bivouacked on the plateau, 
 where, I imagine, we got all the 
 breeze there was stirring, which was 
 very little. 
 
 General Sullivan was telling us 
 this evening of the massacre in the 
 valley below, early in July of last year, 
 after the battle at Forty Fort. 
 There were here at one time, a court 
 house, jail and many dwelling houses 
 of some pretensions. At present 
 there are a fort, two stockaded re- 
 doubts, a row of barracks, and a cou- 
 ple of log houses. The massacre was 
 committed by 800 Seneca Indians, 
 
 28 
 
and 400 British and Tories. In the 
 space of an hour and a half, the Gen- 
 eral said, three hundred men (*) 
 were killed and scalped. About half 
 of them were married men, and their 
 widows were made prisoners. Queen 
 "Esther," an inhuman wretch who 
 lias unlimited power over the sav- 
 ages was present and helped in the 
 scalping. The Indian women in gen- 
 eral were guilty of the most obscene 
 and unnatural atrocities, too hideous 
 to mention. In speaking of Queen 
 "Esther," John Cummings said that 
 she is of French descent; (**) and 
 that since marrying chief Echobund, 
 or perhaps, Egolbung, (***) she has 
 surpassed even her wily husband in 
 craftiness and the wild abandon of 
 barbarity. 
 
 As we retired I heard Rev. Rogers 
 quoting something. I made bold to 
 ask what it was and he repeated 
 these words of Young: 
 "Life's little stage is a small emi- 
 
 i nence, 
 
 Inch high above the grave, — that 
 
 home of man 
 Where dwells the multitude." 
 
 , i 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Beauty in Strange Guise. 
 
 June 2 4 
 
 June 25 
 
 June 2 6 
 
 June 27. — Perhaps I was never 
 more glad to see Sunday, than I am 
 today. What with fatigue, worry 
 and homesickness, I have felt miser- 
 able, and Rev. Roger's sermon didn't 
 help much; for I wasn't in a very pat- 
 riotic spirit this morning — having a 
 distressing cramp in my stomach to 
 battle with. It came from the bad 
 
 * Two hundred and twenty, accur- 
 ately; of whom one hundred were 
 married.' 
 
 **Grand-daughter of the notorious 
 Madam Montour. 
 
 ***Chief of the Minsi Delawares 
 near Shawnee. 
 
 29 
 
meat — the cramp. I was almost fam- 
 ished when Jehoiakim and I arrived 
 in camp last night, and while I no- 
 ticed the woody taste in the beef I 
 didn't stop to inquire the reason, r 
 found today that several men are 
 sick and a few critically so from eat- 
 ing the spoiled meat. Lieut. Boyd(*) 
 told me that owing to haste, some of 
 the salted meat had been packed in 
 casks made of green lumber. This, 
 had soured the brine, and the savor 
 of it permeated the meat. 
 
 The experience of the last few days- 
 is one I would rather look back upon 
 than forward to; — tho' I fear it will 
 be food for nightmares. 
 
 Thursday morning early Quando 
 returned with a note from Elizabeth, 
 in which she thanked me with evi- 
 dent earnestness" for writing to her 
 and confessed loneliness and appre- 
 hension, — the latter because of 
 Quando's report of fresh Indian sig- 
 nals near the Pine Swamp. (**) I 
 was glad to see Quando. I have felt 
 that I never showed the proper grati- 
 tude to him for saving my life, when 
 he killed the rattler, that' was about 
 to strike me. I think it was Quando- 
 who put my bundle under my head on 
 the raft, the very first day we met. 
 He is devoted to Rev. Kirkland, the 
 missionary. And there seems to be 
 a white heart in his massive red 
 chest. He is fastidiously clean. He 
 knows how to make a soap ' out of 
 ashes, alkali, green mandrakes and 
 other stuffs, which is serviceable and 
 pleasantly scented. When at leisure 
 he is usually taking a bath. 
 
 Elizabeth's note I put with my 
 Bible leaves. I was somewhat alarm- 
 ed for the safety of the ladies at 
 Brinker's Mills, and had it in mind 
 to speak to Ensign Small, Q't'r. master 
 Mahoii, and two others whose names 
 I haven't learned, who have wives 
 and sisters among the party. I went 
 
 (*) Thomas Boyd, one of Mor- 
 gan's Riflemen. 
 
 (**) The present Naomi Pines. 
 
 30 
 
to Rev.'Rogers about it who discount- 
 ed the idea of there being any dan- 
 ger. He took me aside while we 
 were talking and said, "My boy, 
 where has Quando been?" I explain- 
 ed that he had been sent after me by 
 Gen. Sullivan. "Yes," he added, "but 
 he just returned this morning." I 
 was silent and he went on: "Gen. 
 Maxwell, who is a polished gentleman 
 and knows when and how to hold his 
 tongue told me this morning that he 
 saw this runner give you a note, 
 which evidently was unimportant, as 
 you betrayed not the slightest sign of 
 being afraid of detection. He saw 
 you slap Quando on the chest and 
 laugh and talk as if you two had 
 something in common, — a strange 
 procedure inasmuch as you disclaim- 
 ed, so recently, any, even the slight- 
 est, regard or sympathy for the race. 
 The General asked me to caution 
 you; for such conduct looks amiss. 
 Evidently you dispatched the Indian 
 on an errand of your own — perhaps, 
 undoubtedly, innocent enough — but 
 the prerogative was not yours. And, 
 my boy, if General Sullivan had hap- 
 pened to need Quando before our ar- 
 riving at Wyoming — or if he had 
 even missed him — I fear you would 
 be involved in some difficulty." 
 
 I was red as Quando's blanket by 
 this time. I realized that I had pre- 
 sumed in making Quando my servant 
 and messenger. I wanted to tell Rev. 
 Rogers all about it, but was ashamed. 
 I blundered out some apology and 
 thanks, and asked him to tell Gen. 
 Maxwell that the matter is perfectly 
 innocent, and that if really necessary, 
 I will relate it all to him. At that 
 instant a man approached, and it was 
 none- other than Gen. Maxwell. 1 
 wished myself in Egypt. But the 
 General certainly is a gentleman. He 
 spoke of the splendid lumber, of the 
 rich soil, of the fine water-way for 
 light commerce, of everything, save 
 the embarrassing topic. When I 
 excused-"'my retiring from them, he 
 said to me, "The Commander in Chief 
 may want to see you." My knees 
 
 31 
 
quaked. "He thinks of sending you 
 and Cap. Johoiakim and possibly one 
 or two others on a scouting man- 
 oeuvre." The relief was wonderful, 
 but my foolish knees quaked all the 
 more. I fled precipitately, after a 
 hurried salute. 
 
 A sentry had heard some footfalls, 
 he said, the night before; and Je- 
 hoiakim had heard a distant screech 
 owl's wail, that he believed to be the 
 revenge cry of the Wolves of the 
 Oneldas. Giles Slocum, Quando, 
 Jehoiakim and I were commissioned 
 to hunt the neighborhood for any 
 lurking foes; a task well adapted to 
 my desires. I had been wondering 
 why I had been sent for, to come 
 from Brinker's Mills. Slocum says 
 that Gen. Sullivan knows nothing of 
 the way to Niagara from Wyoming 
 and that Jehoiakim is not acquainted 
 with the way very thoroughly. 
 
 During a pause at noon Slocum 
 told me a horrible tale of two broth- 
 ers' (***) meeting in the woods near 
 this encampment, just after the mas- 
 sacre of Davis and Jones. Slocum 
 had escaped from an Indian death 
 festival, — a carnage of prisoners after 
 an impassioning war dance — and was 
 hiding in a thick bramble when he 
 saw two men approach each other be- 
 fore him. They recognized each 
 other as brothers. One was armed, 
 the other was destitute of everything 
 save breeches and shirt. The armed 
 one called his brother a rebel, prefix- 
 ing an expletive and suffixing an 
 epithet. The destitute one fell on his 
 knees and begged the other to spare 
 his life as a brother. The Tory got 
 on a log and coolly took aim. The 
 rebel once more begged him to spare 
 his life, saying he would serve him all 
 the rest of his life. The Tory brother 
 swore at him and shot. When he had 
 stopped writhing, the Tory calmly 
 
 (***) Henry and John Pensell, of 
 Lower Smithfield on the Delaware. 
 Rev. Wm. Rogers tells the same 
 story in his journal. 
 
 32 
 
scalped him, just as some one came 
 up from another direction. When 
 the stranger learned the circumstance 
 he said: "I have a great mind to 
 serve you in the same -manner." He 
 was a Tory also, and the two went 
 off together. 
 * * * * * * * * * 
 
 Most red men are ugly in their fac- 
 ial contour, but Captain Jehoiakim is 
 a veritable paragon of homeliness. 
 His profile is more like that of a 
 jack-rabbit than man. His visage is 
 so hideous that it is fascinating. I 
 mention this because his physiognomy 
 served us a good turn' in a rather 
 singular way. 
 
 It was about four hours after noon 
 when we first discovered any sign of 
 an enemy. Quando and I almost at 
 the same moment saw an upturned 
 stone under which were two notched 
 sticks, signifying that the enemies' 
 forces are too great, — or that a con- 
 flict will result in very serious re- 
 pulse. One notched stick would have 
 meant rather serious loss; no stick 
 under an upturned flat stone would ■ 
 have meant even chances. The sig- 
 nal, naturally, had not been intended 
 for us. We carefully replaced the 
 stone and pushed the sticks into the 
 soft turf. From that time we listen- 
 ed critically to every bird's song, and 
 avoided every dry leaf and twig. 
 Quando is a marvel! He vanishes 
 into bushes without disturbing a leaf 
 or making a sound. I've seen him 
 dodge spider webs which I couldn't 
 see even when I knew its general lo- 
 cality. He was in the act of step- 
 ping over a shining strand of a 
 spider's web at one time when he 
 abruptly paused, and fell to scrutin- 
 izing the leaves of the bushes. The 
 web had been torn, and recently. We 
 examined the trail carefully then, for 
 the direction of the man or beast 
 which had broken the web had been 
 the same as ours. Slocum watched 
 while we picked up one leaf after 
 the other and carefully blew the 
 sparsely growing grass. They were 
 Indian tracks; for no white man can 
 
 33 
 
■walk on his toes continually, and no 
 animal would be so careful to leave 
 no track. The marks were fresh, too. 
 Quando and Jehoiakim led on as if 
 by instinct, never hesitating about 
 the direction. For half an hour we 
 glided like shadows through the 
 woods, and the tendons of my neck 
 were tense with excitement. I really 
 had never hunted men before. At 
 length, Quando leaned back toward 
 me and whispered that those we fol- 
 lowed must be near; for he had seen 
 the grass ahead of him move twice; 
 as grass will do after it has been*- 
 stepped upon, resuming its former 
 position, in so far as it can, after 
 being crushed. A few minutes later 
 Jehoiakim stopped, and shaking his 
 head, announced in my ear that the 
 light was not sufficient to see the trail 
 any more, but that we were surely 
 close on the heels of those we pur- 
 sued, and it would be best to run 
 ahead separated. We, therefore, 
 spread out, Slocum and I on either 
 end, — each one of us being about 
 fifty yards apart. Just as the sinking 
 sun was sending its last golden beams 
 through the trees, Quando's hand 
 shot up, — the signal. He circled his 
 arm twice, — the sign that the enemy 
 were stationary. We crept over to 
 where Quando crouched behind a 
 clump of Kalmia. After a few min- 
 utes my untrained eye outlined a 
 Delaware sentry looking in our gen- 
 eral direction but evidently not see- 
 ing us. Quando said there were six 
 of them, one being a squaw. We sat 
 motionless. The dusk deepened, and 
 the green of the arching trees turned 
 black, and described weird figures 
 against the rich amethyst of the sky. - 
 I was in the act of changing my po- 
 sition, when a faint odor of smoke 
 came into my nostrils. The rest no- 
 ticed it too. We waited a little longer 
 and then crept slowly toward the fire. 
 In about an hour's time we were 
 within hearing distance, — in fact 
 only a few yards away from the camp 
 fire. If they had posted a sentry 
 after dark, we had passed him, un- 
 
 34 
 
heard and unseen. It was a strange 
 scene. Before the fire, which crack- 
 led boldly and indifferently, as if no 
 scouts were within a hundred miles, 
 sat a woman, not an Indian, but a 
 strange type, unfamiliar to me. She 
 was beautiful in her barbaric way and 
 looked like a gnomide queen. I be- 
 thought me of the witches in Mac- 
 beth. And as the words "double, 
 double, toil and trouble," came to my 
 mind, she glanced about with a wor- 
 ried look on her face and addressed 
 a gigantic warrior at her left in the 
 Delaware dialect. "Why cause the 
 pine hills to refuse the Crows their 
 nests, O Sanaragha (Strong-armed 
 one)? Why tease the poison snake 
 when our babies play in the grass? 
 Is not the great Water hugged on the 
 sunsetting side by banks as flower- 
 decked as the lakes of the Ononda- 
 gos? ph hear the sobs of thy slum- 
 bering daughters — who cry out to 
 us even from the spirit land of sleep! 
 Avenge no more; but flee before the 
 town-destroyer, and let — " "Moh has 
 teglucti" (My ears weary) interrupt- 
 ed the giant; and the woman drew 
 her yellow and purple blanket over 
 her naked chest. She was fascinat- 
 ingly beautiful, but appeared to be a 
 woman of middle age, — perhaps 
 only thirty or thirty- five; I am no 
 judge. Jehoiakim and I edged closer 
 like very snakes. Three of the sav- 
 ages slept. The woman, the Strong- 
 armed-one and an almost naked war- 
 rior sat stirring the fire from time to 
 time. I had no intention of trying- to 
 capture the six. But I wished to hear, 
 if peradventure I could, what plans 
 they might reveal of their own or of 
 the rest. I was curious to know who 
 the woman is, and why she happened 
 there. The next speech of Sanaragha 
 satisfied this last curiosity. "Thou 
 doest ill," he said, in the tongue of 
 the Delawares, "to daunt my faithful 
 1 wolves with i woman's tears and 
 signs of thine own distress; for these 
 all, and their brothers love thee. 
 Thou shouldst have waited the out- 
 come of the soon-corning conflict. 
 
 35 
 
Thy coming alone from the lair hath, 
 made woman-like the hearts of these 
 braves. The council of the Nations 
 will require answer of thy chief (hus- 
 band) for thee." Her eyes flashed 
 and she bared her neck. "I plead the 
 yearnings of the mothers of thy chil- 
 dren, and the coming generation of 
 the free-born. Has not my word the 
 half weight of my chief's? and is he 
 not more than twice as great as 
 thou?" 
 
 Jehoiakim had raised himself and 
 was studying the figure of the Strong- 
 armed-one. "Thy great father," she 
 continued, at which the giant started 
 and raised his head, "would shame 
 thee for speaking without love to thy 
 chief's squaw. Is not his spirit amid 
 these very hills? Does he not listen 
 to our lips as they open to speak of 
 the good and happiness of his 
 wolves?" 
 
 "Speak not of him nor of his spirit; 
 for as I loved so did I fear him; and 
 his face was terrible to gaze upon," 
 spoke the Indian in quick syllables. 
 
 "O, I would he might appear to 
 thee, and — there! Thy father!" 
 
 A twig had snapped under my foot, 
 and the fire blazed up, just as Jehoi- 
 akim's face was in full relief over the 
 top of a bush. She saw him and sat 
 transfixed with terror. Sanaragha 
 turned, gave one glance at the truly 
 hideous features of Jehoiakim, and 
 with a howl that rivaled a panther's, 
 bounded into the darkness, not even 
 stopping for his rifle. The others 
 awoke, in time to see him fleeing, and 
 the woman with arms extended gaz- 
 ing over the fire, and they fled. Only 
 one retained his rifle. 
 
 The woman arose, swayed, stagger- 
 ed and fell. 
 
 CHAPTER VTI. 
 A Royal Captive. 
 
 I had a full sense of the predica- 
 ment I was in, but was strangely cool. 
 I realized that the fright of the In- 
 dians would not last after sunrise, if 
 that long. They are remarkably im- 
 
 36 
 
pressionable people and grossly sup- 
 erstitious; but I hardly hoped that 
 the mistaking of Jehoiakim's unpre- 
 possessing visage for the spirit of a 
 departed chief, howsoever ghostly 
 and ghastly it loomed up in the fitful 
 glare of the burning pine knots, 
 would so terrorize all of them, that 
 they would not endeavor to prove in 
 some way the immateriality and real 
 ghostliness of the apparitio'n. In 
 this I was not wrong, as subsequent 
 developments have proved. 
 
 On the spur of the moment I con- 
 cluded that this strange woman 
 would be of material service as a 
 prisoner of war, — perhaps to effect 
 peace conditions, or to supply infor- 
 mation. And so, while it .takes me a 
 lot of time to write it, I lost no time 
 in bidding Slocum help me carry her 
 in her own purple and yellow blanket. 
 We then fled, after throwing dirt on 
 the fire, as noiselessly as possible, 
 pausing ever and anon. 
 
 When the woman revived we 
 bound her hands and feet and tied her 
 own belt over her mouth, — operations 
 somewhat difficult in the darkness. 
 Quando and Jehoiakim guarded the 
 rear at a distance of about three rods 
 from us, and that far from each 
 other. 
 
 The weight of the woman and the 
 rifles made haste difficult yet we cer- 
 tainly lost no time. The farther we 
 went the less confident I became of 
 our safety. Upon arriving at a 
 stream I concluded to try an original 
 strategy. I knew by the general 
 knowledge I had of my locality that 
 by morning I could reach the" rocky 
 highland off to the N. E. where pro- 
 tection would be possible during the 
 day. 
 
 Moreover the poison Ivy Is rank all 
 over the place, with which I am fa- 
 miliar; and the red men know that 
 the whites avoid the vine wherever 
 , possible. I take the poison, but I 
 was willing to run the risk, since I 
 "knew how to avoid getting into it, 
 having cautiously picked my way 
 through it on one occasion when run- 
 
 37 
 
ning from Eort Penn to Pitts Town. 
 
 The brook came to our service, too? 
 for it led to my proposed destination 
 and would cover our tracks and lead 
 the pursuers to believe we had taken 
 our course down stream instead of 
 up. And too, the noise of the bubbling- 
 water drowned our foot falls. 
 
 We rested often for the walking- 
 over slippery stones in water is a. 
 difficult enough thing without car- 
 rying a weight. But with the weight, 
 which all four of us shared as we 
 walked up stream, and the darkness, 
 to contend with, we were tired and 
 weary long before the initial blush of 
 dawn found us ready to leave the 
 stream and at the foot of a rocky hill 
 on which I intended to spend the day. 
 
 After reaching the top of the hill 
 without getting into much ivy, Slo- 
 cum and I discussed the situation 
 and concluded that by a wide detour 
 we could reach the army with our 
 beautiful prisoner in thirty-six hours. 
 
 I wanted to send Quando on ahead 
 with news and summons for help to- 
 come to meet us, but Slocum vehe- 
 mently objected, tho' politely, and 
 urged that we would need him in the 
 event of attack. In going to this 
 rocky retreat I had gone almost di- 
 rectly opposite to the direction of the 
 camp and I was worried to know 
 whether the risk of hurrying right 
 on to Wyoming would not have been 
 the more soldierly course to pursue. 
 
 I made the woman as comfortable 
 as possible and removed her gag. She 
 spoke calmly to me whenever I gave 
 her a chance, and' ate heartily av 
 breakfast and at noon. She asked 
 where we were going and when she 
 heard, she turned her head and big 
 drops of water filled and overflowed 
 her pretty eyes. I fain would have 
 comforted her. She asked me later 
 who I am and some other particulars 
 of my personal history. I refrained 
 from informing her tho I did feel a 
 mighty desire to talk to her. I want- 
 ed to ask the same questions of her; 
 but that, General Sullivan must do 
 first, I concluded. Nevertheless the 
 
 38 
 
world, flesh and the devil are strong 
 and subtle enemies, and I found my- 
 self inventing means to elicit infor- 
 mation without presuming upon the 
 prerogatives of my superior officers. 
 She seemed to divine my motives and 
 methods; for she laughed sadly at 
 one time and said: "O fledgeling, 
 your heart is better than your voca- 
 tion. Mon Dieu what a compose of 
 naivete and budding diplomacy, sweet 
 youth!" I turned away; there was 
 something about her eyes I couldn't 
 stand. 
 ********* 
 
 The woman asked to be allowed to 
 walk, promising by several saints I'd 
 never heard of to attempt no artifice. 
 I did not trust her, but I allowed her 
 to walk with her hands tied behind 
 her and a gag in her mouth. When 
 I was about to adjust her gag, she 
 whispered: "Does it please you thus 
 to treat a woman?" I blushed and 
 apologized for the necessity, saying 
 that my superiors would never for- 
 give less caution. 
 ********* 
 
 We set out about an hour after 
 highest noon, feeling that we had 
 successfully escaped pursuit. We 
 labored, however, under the disad- 
 vantage of our enemies' knowing our 
 destination, — if, indeed, they follow- 
 ed us, after recovering from their 
 consternation. I felt pretty safe, tho, 
 when I contemplated the advantage 
 of being well armed. 
 
 The trip on this day, Friday, was 
 uneventful. ' The woman talked to 
 me as often as I'd loose her gag, in 
 that strange mixture of foreign, Eng- 
 lish and Indian language. I ached 
 with curiosity, and perhaps with pity, 
 too. Just before dark I crossed our 
 tracks by climbing a tree and wading 
 a stream. At dark we encamped. I 
 took the first and last watch, but 
 slept only while Slocum watched. We 
 were unmolested, however, and pro- 
 ceeded after a frugal breakfast of 
 edible herbs and artichokes, which 
 the woman found when we allowed 
 her to wander over to a little island 
 
 39 
 
in the stream, — having previously- 
 stood guard at the four points of the 
 compass. , 
 
 ..We built a fire at noon and the 
 woman fried us a wild turkey for 
 dinner which Quando killed with a 
 stone at twenty yards distance. 
 
 We had proceeded again for about 
 two hours when Quando who was 
 ahead halted and sniffed the air. We 
 stopped and watched him. Jehoiakim 
 suddenly shouted to him. He dodged, 
 but too late to escape altogether, and 
 an arrow tore its way through the 
 flesh of his right shoulder. We ran 
 to his assistance. I half dragged 
 the woman to a tree to which Slocum 
 and I bound her with a blanket strap, 
 on the side away from us. Her eyes 
 flashed angrily at me. In the mean- 
 time Jehoiakim had shot, and a howl 
 .had proved its effectiveness. I ran 
 to Quando, who refused to be at- 
 tended to, and insisted that the 
 wound would soon stop bleeding. He 
 did not believe either that the arrow 
 was poisoned. We crept behind the 
 trees and brush and watched for 
 signs of our foe. Preferring not to 
 be surrounded we separated, except 
 that I stayed with Quando who 
 could scarcely handle his gun. 
 
 Suddenly the forest resounded 
 with the hideous yell"of the savages; 
 and all is confusion now in my mem- 
 ory. I had tried to school myself to 
 the idea of that demoralizing noise, 
 but to no avail. I was cold and 
 loony when the horrible sound smote 
 my ears. I fired at random, and 
 with a criminal rashness dashed 
 ahead without even the cover of a 
 tree. 
 
 There might have been a dozen or a 
 hundred savages, I couldn't tell. They 
 appeared here and there. I dodged 
 from a few arrows which might not 
 have hit me at any rate; my cap was 
 shot off, and several bullets pierced 
 my clothes; — one hit my rifle stock, 
 another nipped my ear. It all hap- 
 pened in an incredibly short time. I 
 carried three of the captured rifles 7 
 and made two of them count. I was 
 about to retreat to cover, when a 
 
 40 
 
savage rushed at me from behind a 
 tree to my left. I turned, swinging 
 one of my rifles at him as I did so. It 
 struck him in the pit of his stomach, 
 partly doubling him; but his momen- 
 tum compelled him to smash into me. 
 My blow so weakened him that he 
 could not use his drawn knife, and 
 I obtained a good grip of his wrist, 
 as we fell together. I was more en- 
 raged to have his ill-smelling body 
 
 ~" "Strike not" rang out a familiar voice 
 
 so close to me than scared ;and I 
 fought with all the pent-up energy 
 and anger I possessed. We rolled 
 over and over. I couldn't keep him 
 down, nor he me. At length while I 
 was still in good wind and the buck 
 was breathing hard, a mere twig de- 
 cided the battle. One end of it 
 pierced my eye as we rolled. The 
 pain was so excruciating that I groan- 
 
 41 
 
ed and relaxed. In a twinkling I 
 was on my back, and my conqueror 
 raised his knife to end me. A vision 
 of Brinkcrs Mills, of the Minisinks. of 
 my father, came to my mind; and I 
 tried quickly to utter a prayer. 
 
 "Strike not" rang out a familiar 
 voice, "Stay thy knife; it is Queen 
 Esther who speaks!" This was said 
 in the Delaware tongue; and while 
 I knew it was the strange woman 
 who spoke, it took my dazed, death 
 expecting mind a few moments to 
 translate the command. I opened 
 my one eye. Over me leaned the 
 savage with his knife still raised, 
 looking toward the speaker. I fol- 
 lowed his gaze. Bound to the tree 
 to which I had tied her, and only a 
 dozen feet away was my fair captive 
 who had just announced herself to be 
 the most crafty and demoniac woman 
 on the American continent, Queen 
 Esther. 
 
 CHAPTER VHI. 
 A Confession in French. 
 
 I was amazed and then dismayed. 
 I had heard of her cruelty, and I 
 saw plainly that I was now her vic- 
 tim. I had the awful anticipation of 
 being blinded, quartered and drawn, 
 of having my hands and feet burnt 
 off, of being scalped, speared and 
 roasted at the stake. 
 
 "Strike," I cried in a frenzy, "end 
 me, or I'll end thee;" and I struggled 
 to dislodge my foe. The Indian had 
 dropped his knife and was endeavor- 
 ing to get a certain wrestling grip 
 of my arm and neck with which I my- 
 self was familiar. I was about to 
 pitch him over when another buck 
 came upon the scene and the two held 
 me powerless to escape. I submitted, 
 resolving to conserve my strength. 
 
 "Bring him to me," I heard Queen 
 Esther command. We faced her, 
 panting and hot. The others were re- 
 treating through the forest; but who 
 was chasing whom I could not tell. I 
 saw three prostrate Indians, but none 
 of them looked like Quando or Je- 
 
 42 
 
hoiakim. 
 
 I looked into the queen's face, and 
 was amazed at her expression. I 
 had expected to find malignant, gloat- 
 ing and vicious joy in every feature; 
 but instead were tears, and a quiet, 
 almost pathetic, look. 
 
 "Brave youth," she began in the 
 English, do you know that my voice 
 saved your life?" 
 
 I did not reply. 
 
 "You are one who holds honor 
 above life," she continued in English, 
 but concluded in the Delaware 
 tongue: "Repay thou me by loosing 
 these bonds." 
 
 I saw the irony of the situation, 
 and there was something about it 
 which appealed to my dramatic na- 
 ture. I tried to smile, and made » 
 move toward her upon which I was 
 promptly jerked back and sat upon 
 by my captors. 
 
 "Let him up and free" demanded 
 Queen Esther, almost angrily. 
 
 I arose and advanced. "O Queen." 
 I said, actually feeling a bit of defer- 
 ence and humility, "I am grieved that 
 I knew not your royal estate before, 
 that I might have shown you more 
 courteous and befitting treatment." 
 
 At this point I lost all interest in 
 the play of irony, and changed my 
 tone and attitude. 
 
 "I cannot thank you for sparing 
 my life, since you doubtless had sin- 
 ister motives, and cruel designs. I 
 cannot loose you, and I bid you tell 
 your subjects here that as soon as I 
 am done speaking to you, I am their 
 captive, who will take advantage of 
 every chance to kill them or escape 
 until I myself am killed." 
 
 "Come nearer," she replied also in 
 the English. "I deserve your opinion 
 of my motives; but ignoring all that, 
 you are foolish to resist me. Hear; 
 your friends are driven back, and 
 you are alone and my prisoner. I 
 thought your knightly spirit would 
 be glad to repay me for saving your 
 young life by yourself's cutting my 
 bonds. — For I have saved your life — 
 these shall not have their will with 
 
 43 
 
you. 
 
 She put a peculiar accent on "you." 
 
 I gazed at her and remained silent. 
 Suddenly she said: 
 
 "You have no mother,., have you 
 lad?" 
 
 "Truly you are a woman of mys- 
 tery," I rejoined, "why do you ask? 
 No, I have no mother." 
 
 "Loose me and I will tell you why 
 you have not. — No, I will not; but, 
 pray loose me." 
 
 Mechanically I unstrapped her 
 hands. She stretched her arms and 
 looked at her wrists. 
 
 "Your name is Redwood; isn't it?" 
 she asked slowly. 
 
 "It is; and you knew of my mother, 
 did you not?" 
 
 "You have her eyes and nose." 
 
 "To such a degree that you knew 
 me to be her son?" I asked, holding - 
 my hand to my bruised eye. 
 
 "No, you were pointed out to me 
 as being the son of my hated rival, 
 once, as you ran through the Cas- 
 adago forests." 
 
 "Son of your hated rival? Then, 
 did you hate my mother?" 
 
 "No viper ever hated more, nor 
 with less reason." 
 
 I stood aghast. This notorious mur- 
 deress, this Jezebel, witch and Ama- 
 zon, had known and had hated my 
 mother! What had I to hope from 
 her? I looked around at the two 
 savages at~-my side. She read my 
 thoughts and spoke. 
 
 "Of all creatures, you are the last 
 I would harm. Believe this if noth- 
 ing else of me — sweet youth! — And 
 remember, your honor; for you are 
 my prisoner now. And when we 
 march you shall have your hands and 
 feet and tongue free." 
 
 * * V * X :|: * * * * * 
 
 The braves led the way and I 
 walked by the side of the Queen, sick 
 at heart, and yet most interested in 
 the talk of my strange captor. 
 
 The sickening sense of having fail- 
 ed in my first real adventure in war 
 was severe, but not enough to make 
 me deaf to the mysterious information 
 
 44 
 
that tbis wild hearted woman impart- 
 ed from time to time. It was of no 
 avail to question her. She spoke only 
 when and what she pleased. She told 
 me she once loved a man named But- 
 ler and that she had thought my 
 mother did also. She said my mother 
 was as "fair as a lily and brave as a 
 tigress." — a sort of tiger lily, I 
 thought to myself. She intimated that 
 she had caused my mother great sor- 
 row; but she would not say how she 
 and Butler and my mother ever came 
 together. 
 
 As the sun was spending its last 
 half hour above the horizon, she sud- 
 denly put her lips close to my ear; 
 and whispering, she asked whether I 
 had any paper. I showed her the 
 leaves of the Bible and Elizabeth's 
 letter folded up and damp from the 
 moisture of my body. She tore off 
 a blank page of the letter and put it 
 in her bosom. 
 
 I was trying to sleep but I could 
 not. Queen Esther was writing be- 
 fore the fire on the paper I had given 
 her, with a feather quill, and some 
 crushed berries for ink. The Indians 
 lay stretched out in their blankets, 
 asleep. Once as she glanced in my 
 direction she caught me gazing at 
 her. She was weeping! After a hur- 
 ried listening to the breathing of the 
 two savages, — for she had insisted 
 upon keeping first watch — she came 
 over to me and thrust the paper into 
 my hand. 
 
 "You can read French?" she said 
 with a rising inflection. "No," I whis- 
 pered in reply, taking the note. "So 
 much the better," she said leaning 
 over me and looking intently at me. 
 Finally she said. "I wonder why you 
 fascinate me, you are so young and 
 I am old enough to know better." 
 With that she flung her arms about 
 my head and kissed me! As might 
 be expected I blushed, — at least I 
 felt myself get warm in the face. 
 "Now, up lad, and escape while you 
 may," she began. "These will sleep 
 well. I have no fear. I will fall 
 
 45 
 
asleep at my watch. They cannot 
 punish their queen. Go! and when 
 you get to a place where French is 
 known, select a man you can trust 
 to read this paper. It is my — con- 
 fession to you, sweet youth. I have 
 wronged you, — and I have not the 
 heart — base as I am — to wrong you 
 more; especially since I have seen 
 you. Now go!" 
 
 I tried to analyze the situation, to 
 see if 1 dared honorably accept my 
 freedom thus. Concluding I could, I 
 arose slowly, pressed the queen's 
 hand as a token of appreciation, and 
 as this capricious, whimsical, emo- 
 tional bundle of appetites and de- 
 sires, passions and regrets, stood gaz- 
 ing with tear-wet eyes into the night, 
 I glided through the thicket and in 
 a short time was making good time 
 toward the camp at Wyoming. I ran 
 for two hours without a pause. 
 ********* 
 
 I could arrive at no conclusion 
 concerning her. Possibly her career 
 of crime and adventure had turned 
 her head. 
 
 I was about to rest when a voice 
 rang out ahead of me in challenge. I 
 almost shouted for joy — it was Je- 
 hoiakim! He embraced me. We 
 exchanged experiences; but he could 
 not understand my escape, nor could 
 I explain fully as he knows so little 
 of my tongue, and I so little of his. 
 
 He told me that he had been left 
 for dead after falling under a blow 
 of a mall. He knew nothing of Slo- 
 cum or Quando. He had a bump on 
 his head the size of an egg. As he 
 felt weak and sick, we went slowly, 
 pausing frequently to signal with a 
 hoot owl cry to our missing compan- 
 ions. 
 ********* 
 
 It was only an hour after midnight 
 — tho' I expected to find it two or 
 three o'clock, when we entered the 
 camp weary and hungry. And this 
 brings me to date. 
 
 June 28. — I was very much grati- 
 fied and comforted this morning 
 when I awoke at about nine o'clock 
 
 46 
 
to learn that Slocum and Quando 
 Lave returned, — tho' the former has 
 a broken arm, and the latter is in a 
 critical condition from loss of blood. 
 
 Jehoiakim and I made our reports 
 today to Generals Sullivan and Poor. 
 They were particularly interested in 
 my escape, in which matter I dis- 
 simulated somewhat; saying that 
 1 owed my escape to the quiet manner 
 in which I managed to crawl from 
 my blanket, arise and steal off. This 
 was in some faint measure true, and 
 it elicited the Generals' great admir- 
 ation. They were exceedingly sorry 
 that we had not been able to keep 
 Queen Esther, but both assured me 
 that I had conducted honorably and 
 well, much to my relief. 
 
 Distressing news came today of a 
 family near Cam's Tavern between 
 this place and Easton. Some mem- 
 bers were killed and some taken pris- 
 oners by the savages. Some of the / 
 men are of opinion that the army : 
 under Butler, has broken up into 
 small detachments and bands which 
 will commit all manner of depreda- 
 tions until our forces see the futility I 
 of trying to round them. I do not i 
 think so. I believe with Gen. Sulli- 
 van that they are trying to concen- 
 trate to give us battle for the protec- 
 tion of their crops and orchards 
 which it is our instruction to destroy. 
 
 I am worried about the nearness 01 
 Cam's Tavern to Brinkers Mills. 
 
 June 29. — Early this morning a 
 Mr. Steel arrived in camp, and con- 
 firmed the report of the massacre at 
 Cam's Tavern. A son of Dr. Ledlies 
 was scalped and tomahawked also; 
 and several scattered inhabitants 
 fearing attack pushed on to "Sulli- 
 van's Stores" at Brinkers Mills, 
 where a Mr. Ross took care of them, 
 and Major Hollinshead armed the 
 men, and fed them all. 
 
 The men in the army are rejoicing 
 over the arrival of provisions, blank- 
 ets and clothes from Sunbury. They 
 came in boats, and there were about 
 thirty boats. 
 
 I was allowed to speak to Good- 
 
 47 
 
man today who is pretty sick, but has 
 good hopes of recovery. He was glad 
 to see me, but there was such an in- 
 crease of his fever when I told him 
 about my adventure with Queen 
 Esther, and her queer references to 
 my mother that the doctor sent me 
 away. Goodman said he would tell 
 me some time how Walter Butler 
 "devised to carry away" my mother. 
 He added that I of all men ought to 
 be avenged upon Butler. I am beset 
 with anxiety to know, the whole of 
 my poor mother's career. 
 
 This afternoon I met Rev. Rogers 
 coming from the prison quarters. He 
 had been there with Rev. Kirkland to 
 give spiritual comfort to two men 
 court martialed and condemned to 
 die as traitors. He said that they 
 found the prisoners dense and stupid, 
 and quite unmindful of the hereafter. 
 Miller and Rosebury are their names. 
 Hot and sultry today. Quando 
 much better. I helped him take a 
 bath. Slocum rests comfortably. 
 
 June 3 0. — Nothing particular to- 
 day. There were rumors of our 
 pressing on, received with evident 
 and pleasing enthusiasm by the men. 
 But Gen. Maxwell told me we would 
 wait for Major Hollinshead to come 
 up. I asked about the refugees at 
 Brinkers Mills and he said they 
 would possibly be sent back to Hel- 
 ler's Tavern, but he could not say. 
 My uneasiness about the people at 
 Brinkers Mills was not allayed any. 
 I find I am considered with some 
 curiosity by the soldiers, as one who 
 "nearly captured Queen Esther." 
 
 In a talk with Rev. Rogers today I 
 asked him whether I couldn't get per- 
 mission to run back to Brinkers 
 Mills, to get the truth of the situation 
 and to see if the ladies are safely 
 situated. He said he would speak to 
 General Sullivan about it. He told 
 me that the prisoners are more penit- 
 ent; that he had discoursed on grave 
 subjects, some of which he mention- 
 ed, but which I fear I am too unlearn- 
 ed to appreciate; and that Miller, in 
 particular, confessed that he had 
 
 48 
 
been a bad man and that his punish- 
 ment is deserved. - 
 
 July 1. — General Sullivan does not 
 approve of my going back to Brink- 
 ers Mills. 
 
 Today was the day set for £he ex- 
 ecution of Rosebury and Miller. I was 
 disgusted by the morbid desire of the 
 natives to witness the event. 
 
 Rev. Rogers and Rev. Kirkland ac- 
 companied the men to their place of 
 execution. I went off to the creek for 
 a swim. Hearing only one shot, I in- 
 quired the reason upon my return 
 and learned that Miller in view of 
 good conduct, evident contrition and 
 the large family dependent upon him 
 had'been pardoned just as he was in 
 the act of offering up his last sup- 
 plication to heaven for a greater par- 
 don. They say he was greatly af- 
 fected by his gracious deliverance, - 
 which was effected partly by the in- 
 tercession of the two domines. 
 
 July 2. — I am extremely weary of 
 this inactivity. I can't understand 
 why we don't advance, unless it is be- 
 cause we are to await news from Gen- 
 eral Clinton whose army is scheduled 
 to meet us near Point Tioga. 
 
 This day being Friday I concluded 
 to wash my clothes. I collected all 
 my clothes and went down to a quiet 
 pool in the creek, where I sat with 
 my gun beside me during the heat of 
 the afternoon, under a bass wood 
 tree, without a thread on me, wait- 
 ing for my clothes to dry, and in the 
 meantime reading Othello which I 
 had borrowed from Gen. Maxwell. 
 Except for the gnats, I was very com- 
 fortable. 
 
 I was startled in the midst of my 
 reading by the thunder of artillery. I 
 had just read these words of the Moor 
 upon his foul murder of his wife: 
 "O, insupportable! O heavy hour! 
 Methinks it should be now a huge 
 eclipse of sun and moon, and that 
 the affrighted globe should yawn at 
 alteration," — when, absorbed, - and 
 oblivious to everything else, my 
 senses were all jarred amuck by the 
 
 49 
 
thunderous belching of a cannon. It 
 was perilously near and just around 
 a curve in the creek, hidden by the 
 trees and vines; yet I felt scarce any 
 shock or shaking of the earth. 
 
 I dressed quickly, packed my still 
 damp -shirt and hose, and ran for 
 the camp, suspecting of course that 
 we were attacked. 
 
 I learned that the shooting was an 
 experiment. Anticipating that sonw 
 attempt would be made to block the 
 transportation of our supplies up the 
 Susquehanna river, it was suggested 
 by some one, (*) that a "grasshop- 
 per" be put aboard a batteau and 
 fired to see how the boat would 
 stand it. Several more tests were 
 made after I had arrived on the 
 scene, and all were successful. I 
 marveled tho', for the axletree of 
 the cannon on which the "grasshop- 
 per" was mounted was quite as wide 
 as the batteau. 
 
 July 3. — Nothing particular today. 
 It rained while we were at noon 
 mess. The men of the Jersey regi- 
 ments pulled rope with the Pennsyl- 
 vania boys this morning and just as 
 the latter were about to win, the rope 
 burst, causing the most ludicrous 
 spectacle of tumbling men. 
 
 Goodman is worse. Rev. Kirkland 
 has a bad cold. I killed a three foot 
 rattler today and gave the rattles to 
 Quando, — who, together with Jehoi- 
 akim was able to take a walk down 
 to view the ruins of the old settle- 
 ment, and of Forty Fort. 
 
 July 4. — This day we commemorat- 
 ed the signing of the declaration of 
 American Independence. It seemed 
 very little like Sunday except that 
 Rev. Rogers preached to the Pennsyl- 
 vania regiments, Gen. Sullivan and 
 his staff, and some others. His 
 text was one of the Psalms, "He that 
 trusteth in the Lord, mercy shall 
 compass him about." He said war 
 is a means to peace, and that there is 
 no real joy save in quiet. I could not 
 
 (*) Colonel Thomas Proctor, of 
 the artillery regiment. 
 
 50 
 
help thinking of the ride from Brink- 
 ers Mills to Learn's Tavern, and the 
 pleasure of it. 
 
 The men spent the day in socia- 
 bility and many worldly diversions. I 
 wanted to take a swim but comprom- 
 ised by borrowing a lump of Quan- 
 do's soap and taking a bath in the 
 creek. 
 
 July 5. — News came today by an 
 express rider from Sunbury that nine 
 persons have been scalped by sav- 
 ages near Munsey. No news from 
 Brinkers Mills. 
 
 Slocum had a painful experience 
 today. He was playing with a snap- 
 ping tortoise, and the creature got 
 ahold of his thumb. Will Barton 
 had to cut the animal's head off to 
 save Slocum's thumb. _The men 
 teased him considerably because of 
 his bandaged arm and thumb, but he 
 is very good natured. 
 
 We had tortoise soup for supper 
 at our mess table. 
 
 There was some excitement just 
 after supper. General Maxwell, two 
 others and myself were strolling near 
 the river just as the sun was ready to 
 set, when I thought I saw something 
 hiding behind a bush about a hun- 
 dred yards ahead. The others could 
 not see it. I picked up a round stone 
 and, as they watched I flung it. I 
 never flung better. It went straight 
 into the bush I aimed at; and forth- 
 with out jumped two savages, one of 
 them holding his jaw, who scurried 
 away as fast as their legs could con- 
 vey them. The General said that I 
 would doubtless have the privilege of 
 conducting another scouting party on 
 the morrow. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 "Into the Jaws of Death." 
 
 July 6. — Scouted all day with 
 Captain Johnson but found no trace 
 of the enemy. It was a cool day and 
 we ran farther than we should have 
 run. I feel sore tonight in my 
 groins. 
 
 July 7. — Nothing in particular. I 
 went fishing and had phenomenal 
 
 51 
 
luck. Finished Othello. Took about 
 a dozen bass and pickerel over to 
 Colonel Shreeve's marquee. Colonel 
 Shreeve is a good friend of Slocum. 
 While I was there a soldier came in, 
 quite excited, with holes in his sleeve, 
 pierced he claimed, by three In- 
 dians' bullets, while he was out hunt- 
 ing. 
 
 I am stiff from yesterday's excess- 
 ive running. 
 
 July 8. — Rev. Rogers asked me if 
 I would like to go with a company of 
 dignitaries and himself to view the 
 battlefield, three miles above, of July 
 3, '7S. I declined as decorously as I 
 could manage, preferring to stay with 
 Goodman who is in a convalescent 
 state. 
 
 July 9. — About half a hundred pro- 
 vision boats came in today from Sun- 
 bury, guarded by the Eleventh Penn-j 
 sylvania regiment under Col. Hubley. 
 I find we may bivouac here for sev- 
 eral weeks. We have been going on 
 vhalf rations for several days. 
 
 July 10. — Colonel Read's regi- 
 ment was sent back to Brinkers Mills! 
 I requested to accompany it, but Gen. 
 Sullivan refused. He was kind about 
 it, however, and said that the only 
 reason that he has for keeping me is 
 that I will be needed to do scouting 
 now and then. He added that I 
 would be privileged to send any mes- 
 sages I cared to send to Brinkera 
 Mills; whereupon I grew red in my 
 face. I can't see why. 
 
 I decided I would send a note to 
 Elizabeth. It was larger than I in- 
 tended, when I finished. I told her 
 some of our adventures and said that 
 when I see her I will have an interest- 
 ing tale to tell of the famous Queen 
 Esther, — but that was all I said of 
 her. 
 
 July 11. — As lorrg as it rained this 
 day I am glad it is Sunday, — except 
 that- there was no preaching, and I 
 like to listen to Rev. Rogers. 
 
 July 12. — I learned today that Col. 
 Read's going to Brinkers Mills is 
 chiefly to repair the road cut through 
 the swanips and to escort the stores 
 
 52 
 
on wagons gotten at Easton. I sup- 
 pose it has been discovered that the 
 stores cannot be brought by water. 
 I also heard that news came yester- 
 day from Gen. Clinton, who is at the 
 head of Ostego Lake, announcing 
 that twenty-five Onei'das have joined 
 him; and verifying our belief that 
 the hostile savages are amassing in 
 their own territory, preparing to give 
 us battle. The letter also stated that 
 deserters claim that detachments of 
 fully 300 savages have been sent out 
 to harass and distress us as much as 
 possible on the march. 
 
 There^ are rumors of a scandal in 
 the delay of our arms and provis- 
 ions. (*) Talked awhile to Good- 
 man. 
 
 July 13. — Went fishing. Fell off 
 of a slippery limb into the creek, and 
 had to borrow dry breeches, which I 
 found difficult. There is a great 
 scarcity of clothes in the army. 
 
 July 14. — Well, well! the stupid 
 Germans! Thirty-three of the Ger- 
 man regiment deserted on the base 
 plea of their time's having expired. 
 They had the brazenness to march 
 away with drum and fife tooting 
 "Watch on the Rhine." 
 
 Fifty horsemen guided by Jehoia- 
 kim set out to fetch them back. Good- 
 man is not so well. 
 
 July 15. 
 
 July 16. — Awful cramps in stom- 
 ach last two days. Most of the de- 
 serters reported caught. 
 
 July 17. — Reports of Indian dep- 
 redations across the river to the west 
 of us. Didn't get details. Cramps 
 have left but I am sore. 
 
 July 18. — A scouting party, sent 
 out at the same time that Cap. John- 
 son and I were, but unknown to me, 
 returned today and reported nothing. 
 A couple of the Stockbridge Indians 
 were among them. One is over seven 
 feet tall. Short religious services to- 
 
 (*) It was more than rumor. In- 
 sufficiency of provisions is all that 
 kept Sullivan from starting on his 
 great adventures before he did. 
 
 53 
 
day. Hilarity and rope pulling are 
 forbidden hereafter on Sunday. 
 
 July 19. — Goodman is much worse. 
 I hope it is not serious. I like the 
 man, and he is very much interested 
 in me. Slocum's arm is improving 
 slowly. He is worried, fearing there 
 will be action before he will be able 
 to participate. I have a heavy head- 
 ache tonight. Four of the deserters 
 are still missing. 
 
 July 20. 
 
 July 21. — Something is wrong 
 with me, inside. I had fever, head- 
 ache and nausea all day yesterday, 
 and today I ache in every muscle and 
 can't eat. News came that General 
 W. (**) by adroit strategy took the 
 garrison at Stony Point by surprise, 
 capturing everything and losing only 
 five men. Great rejoicing in the 
 army. 
 
 Word also came from Colonel 
 Stroud (***) at Fort Penn, stating 
 that detachments of marauding red 
 men are driving the settlers of the 
 Minisinks down the river, and he 
 asks for aid. If I felt better I'd ask 
 to go. 
 
 July 2 2. 
 
 July 23. 
 
 July 24. — There is no advantage in 
 fighting against an unruly interior. 
 The doctors say my liver is upset. I 
 am all yellow! My eyeballs are 
 green! I look as tho' I were painted. 
 The ancients considered the liver the 
 seat of the passions. I almost be- 
 lieve it; for I never felt so irritable, 
 so petulant, so homesick and so mad 
 as I do at times since I've been lying 
 in my tent, forbidden to move. 
 
 Over a hundred boats came today. 
 It is a wonder I heard of it." No one 
 is obliging enough to answer ques- 
 tions, nor — 
 
 July 2 5. 
 
 (**) ' Gen. Wayne. Redwood 
 
 probably was not sure of the spelling. 
 
 '(**■*) Founder of Stroudsburg. 
 His "mansion house" (at present, 
 Ninth and Main), was built on site of 
 Fort Hamilton. 
 
July 26. 
 
 July 27. — I have been sick as a 
 dog. Having never seen a dog sick, 
 1 do not fully understand the com- 
 parison — nor, either, do I my illness. 
 I hadn't much pain except in my 
 head; but I am so fearfully weak; 
 and ugh! that awful nausea, and 
 weariness in my bones! 
 
 Rev. Rogers comes to see me every 
 day. Slocuin, Quando, Smith, Jehoi- 
 akim and Watts often drop in my tent 
 also. Rev. Rogers told me that he 
 preached to the Germans, who are 
 beginning to understand the guilt of 
 their desertion. He thinks the Com- 
 mander-in-Chief will pardon them. I 
 think the General is too indulgent. 
 
 July 28. — Sat up awhile today. 
 Quando has an ugly scar on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 I have been looking at Queen 
 Esther's "confession." Except for a 
 few words I can't make anything of 
 it, as it is in French. For reasons of 
 my own, I will not ask Rev. Rogers 
 to translate it until this campaign is 
 over. 
 ********* 
 
 (A page of the diary torn out.) 
 ********* 
 
 The deserters were pardoned, sure 
 enough. They promised to disting- 
 uish themselves in the future as 
 "brave and obedient" soldiers. 
 
 July 2 9. — News came yesterday, 
 so Slocum says, that on the twenty- 
 second instant, one hundred and for- 
 ty of our militia, at Lackawack, on 
 the Delaware, above the" Minisinks, 
 were ambushed and butchered, save 
 for twenty or less. Oh, I wish I 
 could help protect the Minisinks! 
 
 July 30. — Sat up again today; but 
 my back hurt so yesterday I couldn't. 
 Rev. Rogers told me that latest re- 
 ports say that only forty were killed 
 at Lackawack. 
 
 The bodies of Captain Davis and 
 Lieutenant Jones were removed yes- 
 terday and reinterred with ceremon- 
 ' ies in Masonic form. I feel better to- 
 day. My hands are wonderfully 
 
 55 
 
\ 
 
 thin. I was able to eat some solid 
 food at noon. 
 
 July 31. — We are on the march at 
 last. We set out today at one of the 
 clock. The army marches on the 
 east bank of the Susquehanna river 
 and the boats are to blow horns at 
 intervals to keep the army abreast. 
 Captain Johnson, I think, is on the 
 left shore with a scouting party. 
 Ahead of the army Jehoiakim leads a 
 company of fifty or mare. He almost 
 wept because I couldn't go with him. 
 4 I am having a fine ride on the 
 , "Susan," a_transport boat so named 
 by the head baker in honor of the 
 wife he deserted in England five 
 years ago. The river is beautiful! 
 
 August 1. — The river is also very 
 treacherous. We struck all manner 
 of obstructions in our course and 
 didn't get to Lackawack until three 
 o'clock. Two of our lesser boats sank 
 as a result of striking a sharp ledge 
 along a narrows. The army rested 
 some time at Lackawack and we in 
 the boats proceeded in order to save 
 time, with our guard on either shore. 
 The troops caught up to us about 
 five of the clock and at times were 
 near enough to the river to exchange 
 greetings with us. We went past 
 another narrows before sunset and 
 saw a beautiful cascade tumbling 
 down the cliff for about, one hundred 
 feet. ' 
 
 This being Sunday, I read some 
 of the pages of Scripture which I al- 
 ways carry in my jacket pocket. 
 
 The army is stretched out so that 
 it must extend over a length of five 
 miles. We all arrived safe at 
 Quialutimuck to encamp for the 
 night, < The soil is rich and free of 
 stone here. The timothy grass is re- 
 markably high. 
 
 Aug. 2. — I went ashore today to 
 offer Rev. Rogers my congratulations 
 as it is his birthday. He told me the 
 date, August 2nd, one time that he 
 called to see me, back at Wyoming. 
 I feel stronger but the walking hurts 
 my back. The men are discouraged 
 about the roads and worried about 
 
 56 
 
the provisions which are being lost by 
 bursting barrels and boxes, break- 
 ing wagons, and exhausted pack 
 horses 
 
 Aug. 3. — 1 walked about five miles 
 today, and rode the rest of the twelve 
 miles, which we traveled, on the 
 "Susan." The "fleet" got to the en- 
 campment at Tunkhannunk about an 
 hour behind the army. 
 
 I fished toward evening and caught 
 one of the largest eels I ever saw and 
 sixteen sun fish. Jehoiakim spoiled 
 my sport by swimming over to see 
 me. We chatted in the twilight until, 
 despite the oppressive heat, the 
 dampness of the few clothes he had 
 on made him chilly and he swam 
 back to the east shore. He told me 
 Slocum uses his hand a little; but his 
 arm is still in a sling. 
 
 Aug. 4. — I walked the entire 
 march today, thirteen miles, tho' it 
 may have been imprudent as my knee 
 caps tremble tonight. The country 
 is beautiful this year. We crossed a 
 trail that I made two years ago. The 
 Massappe creek is in the midst of a 
 strange fairyland sort of wilderness 
 on a broad level tract of land. We 
 encamped at a place called Black 
 Walnut Bottom. The tents were 
 pitched near the river. Hansen, a 
 private, returned from a flanking 
 manoeuvre with the fruits of fifteen 
 minutes' fishing. He had about ten 
 sun fish, a couple cat fish and two 
 eels; one of which was even larger 
 than mine, being about eleven inches 
 in circumference. 
 
 General Sullivan has inquired 
 about my health several times re- 
 cently, Rev. Rogers told me. I have 
 made several inquiries about Good- 
 man and can't ascertain what has be- 
 come of him. 
 
 August 5. — Encamped on the de- 
 serted village green of Wyalusing, a 
 Moravian Indian town. We came 
 nine miles today. I find that Good- 
 man is on one of the large boats- 
 one to which I never happened to get 
 near enough, to notice anything 
 about it. He is said to be better. 
 
 57 
 
August 6. — I am tired of this fog. I 
 like to see the sun come up clear. 
 Tonight it is raining. I went with 
 Rev. Rogers and a Mr. Masonell to 
 visit Colonel Proctor on board the 
 "Adventure." Rev. Rogers in con- 
 versation referred to Brandt, the no- 
 torious Indian, educated in England, 
 and leading the forces under the 
 Butlers. He said, "This savage-gen- 
 tleman was nattered in England and 
 he boasts that he is the faithful ser- 
 vant of a royal "Defender of the 
 Faith." May the Lord give Brandt 
 and his master that faith which 
 "worketh by love." 
 
 Some gentleman whom we found 
 on board said that Brandt is not 
 nearly as blood thirsty as Walter 
 Butler or even as the Johnson cou- 
 sins. This gentleman told us Slo- 
 cum's story, which Slocum had told 
 me some time before, of the two 
 brothers, one a Tory and one a pat- 
 riot. Rev. Rogers was visibly dis- 
 tressed by the horrible recital. 
 
 The general said that express dis- 
 patches informed him of the increase 
 of the Butlers' forces by 450 British 
 from Canada, and many Indians, 
 prevailed upon by Brandt. 
 
 August 7. — The army is resting be- 
 cause of the rain. I went off on an 
 independent scouting toward evening 
 but found nothing. Neither did three 
 other parties who were gone all day. 
 I miss the band. We haven't had our 
 usual evening concert for several 
 days; doubtless because of the sup- 
 posed proximity of the enemy. I 
 listened to some entertaining stories 
 of Job Childeway, a friendly Indian 
 who lived here until he died last 
 winter. He evidently was a noble 
 character. Upon one occasion he was 
 seen apparently biting the leg of a 
 young white child. The mother in 
 the boldness of maternal frenzy 
 pitched upon the Indian, misunder- 
 standing the clamors and screams of 
 her daughter. An aged white man 
 bravely came to her assistance. The 
 Indian Job winced under their blows 
 but contined industriously to suck at 
 
 58 
 
the child's leg, expectorating hurried- 
 ly. When he could stand the moth- 
 er's nails and the old nian's cane no 
 longer, he stopped and exclaimed, 
 "Thus you should have treated the 
 snake who put in the child the poison 
 I've tried to draw out." The child 
 actually recovered. 
 
 August 8. — Today's march was 
 hard. We were always climbing, 
 wading^or detouring, and alternately 
 stumbling over slippery boulders and 
 descending slippery hillsides. 
 
 General Sullivan is not well. He 
 went on board one of the boats at 
 noon and will remain there until 
 some time tomorrow. He asked for 
 me before he went on board and told 
 me to assume command of any half- 
 dozen scouts I want and go on duty 
 at the front as soon as I feel physic- 
 ally able and strong enwugh. 
 
 I thanked him enthusiastically, and 
 asked whether I might limit the num- 
 her to four. He smiled and said, 
 "Yes, I suppose you want the original 
 quartet." 
 
 I sought out Quando, who is in fine 
 shape again, and Jehoiakim, as fas- 
 cinatingly ugly as ever, and Slocum 
 whose arm has recovered remarkably, 
 — tho' he still has splints bound 
 around it. 
 ********* 
 
 August 9 
 
 August 10. — From the three tracks 
 we found yesterday I knew that 
 we were being spied upon. Our pro- 
 gress from Weesauking was rapid un- 
 til we came to a long narrow passage 
 at the side of Break-neck Hill. Here 
 we discovered a trap just in time to 
 save us from being plunged to in- 
 stant death one hundred and 
 eighty f^et below. It was a vine tied 
 to a balanced rock fixed across our 
 path. Had one of us caught his 
 foot in it the rock would have come 
 crashing down upon us knocking us 
 off the ledge like ten-pins. We 
 sprung the trap and watched the 
 boulder go thundering down. There 
 was something sublime about its aw- 
 ful contact with the earth below. 
 
 59 
 
The sun had begun to set before I 
 realized that we were confused in 
 our direction. The path we were on 
 seemed like, an old one used by ani- 
 mals, — deer, possibly, as an avenue 
 to a watering place. But it suddenly 
 terminated and we stood on the edge 
 of a precipice. "What have we walk- 
 ed into?" said I aloud to the others, 
 as we looked about us somewhat be- 
 wildered. Before any one of my 
 companions could answer, a strange 
 voice, about a dozen feet away 
 hissed: "You have walked into the 
 jaws of death." 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 The Irony of War. 
 
 Instantaneously, upon the first 
 word of our unseen foe, every one of 
 us fell on his face and cocked his 
 gun. Prompt as we were, two shots 
 rang out as if to punctuate the dec- 
 laration, and I saw Slocum's hat leave 
 his head, but he escaped harm. He 
 and I both shot through the shrub- 
 bery at the spots from which the 
 shots had come, and a welcome howl 
 rewarded our pains. Quando and 
 Jehoiakim were silently crawling 
 around to gain an advantage in posi- 
 tion. Having reloaded, I indicated 
 to Slocum by pointing, that we 
 should seek the shelter of a mass of 
 huge rocks lying about forty feet 
 back of us. 
 
 Every minute I anticipated that 
 horrible war whoop, but it did not 
 come. We crawled as fast as we 
 could; I led the way and Slocum 
 watched our retreat. 
 
 When we were near the rocks we 
 both gave our attention to the ad- 
 vance, fearing an ambush there. But 
 there was none. Well protected by 
 this natural fortress we climbed as 
 high as possible on the safe side of 
 the rocks and intently studied the 
 scene before us. There wasn't much 
 day light left and I dreaded the idea 
 of fleeing from an unseen foe 
 through an unknown wood in ttie 
 dark. 
 
 60 
 
Presently I saw Quando's graceful 
 brown body gliding around a bush, 
 and presently Jehoiakim at his heels. 
 At the same instant Slocum's gun 
 belched fire and I saw a man, a Tory 
 •or renegade, only six feet from 
 Quando throw up his' hands and 
 plunge forward on his face. 
 
 "Good!" I exclaimed, "come let us 
 give them battle before darkness 
 comes on. There can't be many, else 
 "we could see them; and they aren't 
 Indians." 
 
 We hurried down, and soon were 
 with our Indian friends. I was 
 pretty sure that our enemies were 
 all white men, as I had said to Slo- 
 cum; but I was wrong; for suddenly 
 a huge monster leaned around a tree 
 and discharged his musket in our di- 
 rection. Then, with a fool-hardy 
 abandon he^tlashed away, dodging 
 from side to side and at length dis- 
 appearing. Jehoiakim and I both 
 shot and missed him — a great humil- 
 iation for me, as it is the first bad 
 aim I've been guilty of in five years. 
 
 That was the end of the adventure. 
 Ten minutes of search revealed only 
 two dead renegades; and a few min- 
 utes later we saw two savages out- 
 lined for a moment against the lemon 
 glow of the sky on the horizon. And 
 then like spectres they dissolved in 
 the deepening gloom. 
 
 Cautiously we pursued our hazar- 
 dous, fortuitous way. The great dip- 
 per, the North star, and a few others 
 were visible through the mist. But 
 they were sufficient; and knowing 
 the general direction we proceeded, 
 falling over all manner of objects, 
 barking our shins, scratching our 
 faces, encountering a bear and two 
 wild cats, and getting an unpleasant 
 odor on us by disturbing a musteline 
 ferret, which Slocum called a 
 "skunk." I had never heard the 
 term, but it sounds appropriate, that 
 is, onomatopoetic. The mention of 
 the word "skunk" brings back that 
 unctuous, nauseating aroma to my 
 jnostrils. 
 
 Except that our sentry alarmed 
 
 61 
 
the whole third New York regimenc 
 ■when we came suddenly upon him, 
 we got to camp without any furthei 
 incident. All we could, report was 
 that we saw a few tracks of the ene- 
 mies scouts but no signs of ambush in 
 the immediate locality. / 
 
 I rested until two of the clock af- 
 ter noon, and then led the Generals 
 over some of the ground I had recon- 
 noitered. 
 
 August 11. 
 
 August 12. 
 
 August 13. 
 
 August 14. — At last we are in 
 the land claimed by the Six Nations. 
 Every caution is being used. Four 
 days ago we crossed the Susquehanna 
 about a mile below Esther Town, a 
 town of the Indians, at one time made 
 up of good log houses, and contain- 
 ing a fortress or castle. The crossing 
 of the river was dangerous and yet 
 amusing. The men were made to 
 doff their breeches and boots and, as 
 many as wore them — their hose. We 
 could see the wondering bands of 
 savages on the hills to the Northeast 
 watching us. A party was sent on a 
 long detour to round them, but it 
 failed. 
 
 Arriving at the juncture of the 
 river and Tioga creek we crossed the 
 latter and marched up the bank on 
 the broad green level before the 
 ruins of Tioga town. This town and 
 Esther's Town were both razed by 
 Hartley, (*) who with Courtiandt (If 
 that is the correct spelling), led a 
 bold sally through this country late 
 last fall. 
 
 Jehoiakim, who seldom speaks but 
 always smiles, told me today that he 
 hasn't seen two of his Stockbridge In- 
 dians since we left Wyoming. I 
 had not noticed their absence. 
 
 It was concluded on Thursday, 
 when my scouting party and Captain 
 Cummin's also, reported the fact that 
 
 "(*) Redwood is mistaken. Tioga 
 was destroyed by the Indians them- 
 selves, upon evacuating it in June, 
 1778. 
 
 62 
 
there were some Indians and several 
 white persons at Chemung, to sur- 
 prise fflfe village if possible. The 
 commander in chief addressed the 
 army and warned them never to ex- 
 pect quarter from a red man. At 
 the conclusion of his talk he said, 
 "Should you so determine to act as I 
 have indicated nothing but an uncom- 
 mon frown of Providence can prevent 
 us from obtaining that which will in- 
 sure peace and security to our front- 
 iers, and afford lasting honor to all 
 concerned." \ 
 
 We found night traveling very dif- 
 ficult for soldiers, heavy of feet, and 
 used to seeing nothing but that for 
 which they must step aside. And 
 thus, we did not get to Chemung 
 until daybreak. But as chance de- 
 creed it, there was a heavy fog and 
 when the critical moment came the 
 men were surprisingly alert and 
 quiet. We surrounded the town and 
 at a signal, rushed into it, — to find it 
 empty! We burned it, — tho' re- 
 luctantly; for the buildings — ijpme of 
 them logs, others of hewn slabs, — 
 were good and comfortable, and 
 about thirty in number. 
 
 Quando and I found tracks which 
 betrayed signs of someone's having 
 attempted to cover them. They led 
 north. We told the General, and 
 soon the expedition was on its way 
 toward Newton. 
 
 About a mile from Chemung we 
 came upon a night's camp. The cin- 
 ders of the fire were still warm. One 
 or two of the savages' dogs were seen 
 still quietly sleeping tho' why they 
 were left I could not fathom; and so, 
 I suspected that we were on the point 
 of being led into ambush, or that 
 another sort of deception lay in this 
 unusual procedure of leaving their 
 doss behind. 
 
 General Hand got the Commander- 
 in-Chief's consent to push on. He 
 took Captain Franklin as guide in the 
 advance party; and I remained with 
 Gen. Sullivan. 
 
 Fate played into my hands here, 
 for the parties had not gotten five 
 
 63 
 
hundred rods on their way when we 
 heard a volley of shots. The Indians 
 had fixed themselves on a ridge to the 
 right| Captain Franklin fell, se- 
 riously wounded. The eleventh Penn- 
 sylvania regiment rushed up the hill 
 with astonishing rapidity. Another 
 volley greeted them but as they push- 
 ed on the Indians suddenly fled. The 
 light armed men gave chase; but 
 Gen. Sullivan and the rest of us hav- 
 ing arrived, I was sent to call them 
 back. 
 
 We destroyed nearly a hundred 
 acres of corn in this neighborhood. 
 In Chemung we had discovered wild 
 potatoes and other food stuffs stored 
 away from which it was judged that 
 the village was intended as a maga- 
 zine to supply their future wants. 
 
 We lost six in this first serious en- 
 counter. They were brought back to 
 camp on horses. I found Rev. Rog- 
 ers rather dejected. "Oh, yes, I 
 know worse carnage must come, my 
 boy," he said, "but I cannot avoid 
 heavy thoughts at times. See what 
 a monster war is: it rouses our worst 
 passions, it defeats our best virtues, 
 it depopulates the land — and not of 
 undesirable men, if that would be 
 any extenuation of it, but of the 
 strongest, healthiest men. Think, my 
 boy, of the unutterable borrow of six 
 wives, six mothers and perhaps the 
 numerous sisters of these first mar- 
 tyrs. The liberty they will enjoy, my 
 boy, can it atone for this loss, this 
 sacrifice? O, the irony of it!" 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A Letter Arrives. 
 
 August 15. — Rev. Rogers made a 
 fine address at the burial of the six 
 killed soldiers yesterday. Instead of 
 feeling more dejected the men seem- 
 ed to be more encouraged or recon- 
 ciled after the services. He made 
 death appear glorious when it occurs 
 as the necessary sacrifice for justice 
 and liberty. He avoided any refer- 
 ence to the wives and mothers of the 
 deceased heroes. 
 
 64 
 
The savages raided our pasture to- 
 day, -wounded a couple (**) of the 
 meu and got about five horses. 
 
 August 16. 
 
 August 17. 
 
 August 18. 
 
 August 19. 
 
 August 20. — The discontinuance of 
 my journal for several days is due to 
 the fact that I had my fingers nearly 
 shot off my right hand; and not 
 being ambidextrous I have waited un- 
 til I can handle a pen again. 
 
 According to orders 900 of us pro- 
 ceeded up the river with eight days' 
 rations and plenty of ammunition in- 
 tending to meet General Clinton from 
 whom General Sullivan received word 
 that he had left Lake Otsego on Aug- 
 ust 9th. Quando, Manaman and 
 another Indian accompanied me 
 about a hundred rods ahead of the 
 van. 
 
 It was while pausing at noon on 
 Tuesday, the second day's march, 
 that we relaxed the customary in- 
 tentness of our vigil and were pun- 
 ished by being shot at. A ball struck 
 my hand, one flattened on Quando's 
 gun, and another tore a string of 
 beads off the neck of the Indian 
 whose name I can't remember. I 
 feared I would lose one joint of my 
 thumb, but it is healing now, I think. 
 My second finger is most painful. 
 
 The attacking party retired with- 
 out firing again, — from which I infer 
 they are becoming economic of their 
 powder. 
 
 The wound incapacitated me for 
 guiding — or rather for the fighting 
 that might be necessary on that mis- 
 sion. And tho' I urged General Poor 
 to let me at least accompany Quando, 
 I was told to go where I would be 
 safe and where there would be no 
 temptation to use my hand. 
 
 (**) According to Rev. Rogers' 
 diary a lad who was about to drive 
 the horses and cattle to camp, was 
 killed and scalped. 
 
 65 
 
The rest of the march, therefore, 
 was uneventful. We met General 
 Clinton on the nineteenth, yesterday, 
 at ten of the clock, before noon, 
 about eight miles south of Chenango. 
 The soldiers rushed at each other 
 like long separated brothers, tho' in 
 most part strangers to each other. 
 
 I accompanied Lieut. Boyd back to 
 General Sullivan at Tioga encamp- 
 ment, henceforth to be known as 
 "Fort Sullivan." A block house has 
 been erected, here and named in 
 honor of the Commander-in-Chief. 
 
 Learned with sorrow of the death 
 and scalping of my friend, Philip 
 Helter, (***) the baker. Rev. Rog- 
 ers sympathized with me because of 
 the wound I had received, but men- 
 tioned that it would be a noble 
 trophy. 
 
 "You will be honored more for the 
 scars you can show than the tales you 
 can tell after the war," he remarked. 
 When I asked him what he thought 
 of our hopes, he spoke enthusiastical- 
 ly and ended by informing me that 
 news came recently announcing the 
 victory of Count d'Estaing, (if I 
 caught his spelling), over the enemy's 
 fleet near St. Vincent Island. 
 
 August 21. — When I told Rev. 
 Kirkland and Andy White that Gen. 
 Clinton's army had not been molest- 
 ed at all on its journey, they told 
 me of a dozen falst flarms, and sev- 
 eral genuine ones, including Helter's 
 death. Rev. Kirkland took me aside 
 after our conversation and asked 
 me whether I knew that Major Hol- 
 linshead had arrived from Brinkers 
 Mills, and whether I had seen him. 
 
 "No," I said, as calmly as possi- 
 ble, stooping to pluck a flower, — but 
 it was no use; my heart was thump- 
 ing like wild and I felt myself get- 
 ting flushed. 
 
 "He has a letter for you," quoth 
 the domine. Of course he had; to my 
 expectation that was a necessary 
 corollary. 
 
 (***) "He lived in Fifth street, 
 near Market street, Philadelphia," 
 Rev. Rogers' journal. 
 
 66 
 
Hollinshead was evidently glad to 
 see me. He produced the letter from 
 a packet of documents with a disin- 
 terested air that did m/ch to raise 
 my estimation of his^ood sense. 
 When I asked about the ladies at 
 Brinkers Mills, he went to some 
 lengths to tell me that the ladies are 
 all well and safe; and, that the young 
 women and old men and half grown 
 boys collected there from the neigh- 
 borhood are under the care of one of 
 the Learns, who has drilled them to 
 some degree of efficiency. The Major 
 thinks they could withstand a force 
 of half a hundred savages. 
 
 When I could politely do so I 
 withdrew to read. Elizabeth's letter. 
 
 August 22. — I found some dog- 
 bane (*) or "Indian hemp" this 
 morning and can paste, the letter in 
 my journal, where it will keep best; 
 for I do not want to lose it. 
 
 My Dear Sir: 
 
 Believing that you will not take it 
 amiss if I venture to avail myself of 
 this very good opportunity to wish 
 you well, I will be so bold as to do 
 that, and more than that, — I will risk 
 the impropriety of acquainting you 
 with matters that have come to pass 
 here, though you have not asked to 
 know of them. My aunt still has her 
 headaches — are you interested in my 
 aunt? I don't care if you are, I am 
 decided. As long as I am writing at 
 all, it shall be of the things I really 
 want to write. Major Hollinshead 
 can tell you of the events which have 
 kept us in a state of excitement and 
 dread. Of them, I certainly do not 
 want to write. 
 
 I have often wished for another 
 such glorious ride as that to Point 
 Pokono; but since^ you have gone, 
 there isn't any one who seems to en- 
 joy that sort of things. You really 
 are very capable when it comes to en- 
 tertaining, Mr. Edwin; and I know 
 you are too sensible to be vain be- 
 
 (*) A' plant with very sticky dou~ 
 ble pods and white sticky juice. 
 
cause I have confessed that I noticed 
 that trait in you. That prepares me 
 for saying that I miss your jollity. It 
 has been warlike and bad-dreamish 
 ever since the fugitives have come 
 here for protection. Twice we have 
 heard that most awful and ghastly 
 howl of the savages. But Providence 
 has saved us the sight of bloodshed. 
 
 O, I do hope you and all my friends 
 are safe! Do you know, I worried 
 so for a couple of nights about you, 
 after hearing through Col. Read that 
 you are always chosen to do the most 
 dangerous scouting, that I couldn't 
 get to sleep either night until — well, 
 very, very late. I hope you will be 
 very prudent. I need not ask you to 
 be more clever, brave or strong. I 
 admire strength exceedingly; and I 
 got keen pleasure out of watching 
 your splendid arms contract and relax 
 as you used them riding, or exercis- 
 ing in the games. The ladies often 
 speak of your fine jumping. But 
 forsooth, I must not praise you so to 
 your face. 
 
 I want to express the hope, too, 
 that you are keeping in good health. 
 Do you know, I hate the idea of your 
 being a soldier. I do not thinK you 
 are born to it. Forgive my stupid 
 manner of expression, — I mean, you 
 are born to better, nobler things. 
 Don't you feel that you are? O, I 
 know you do. Did I not see you step 
 out of your way to save a woolly 
 worm, which, when it, or one like it, 
 shortly after crawled on me, you 
 gently picked from my sleeve and 
 placed on the ground, instead of 
 throwing it down? It is hard to im- 
 agine you, friend, Edwin, who are 
 considerate of the very worms, taking 
 human life. But forgive me again. I 
 must remember that you are first a 
 patriot and then a man. I know this 
 war is a necessity in one sense, but 
 you know, too, how I pity the "poor 
 abused red men. 
 
 Let me thank you with all my heart 
 for your last message. You are very 
 considerate as I said above. Parts 
 of your letter I read to my aunt who 
 
thinks you and Major Hollinshead 
 are wonderful. She has quite for- 
 given us for our horseback ride. 
 
 Do try to see me when your cam- 
 paign is over, will you, Edwin Red- 
 wood? If that is not modest of me, 
 forgive me, for it is late at night and 
 1 am too tired to think clearly. 
 
 With best wishes for safe conduct 
 and the earnest hope of seeing you 
 when our liberty is gained I am your, 
 most humbly, ELIZABETH. 
 
 August 12, 1779, Brinkers Mills, 
 Pennsylvania. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 The Enemy at Bay. 
 
 August 23. — Yesterday just as I 
 had pasted the above letter, — it was 
 about ten of the clock in the morn- 
 ing — a great booming of cannons, 
 thirteen rounds in all, and a spirited 
 burst of music broke the silence and 
 awoke the sylvan echoes. Clinton had 
 arrived. As the band played, I re- 
 read the letter, and straightway be- 
 came so homesick that I was within a 
 frog hair's breadth of being unman- 
 ned by emotions. 
 
 Perhaps I am not a soldier, — to tha 
 barracks born. 
 
 Most of Clinton's forces came down 
 on the river in batteaux. There is a 
 Col. William Butler in command oi 
 one detachment of Clinton's army. Ha 
 Is said to be of no connection with 
 Walter Butler, our arch enemy. 
 
 August 24. — Nothing today except 
 lots of work getting ready for th& 
 march. Many of the regiments have- 
 been reconstructed. I am not sure 
 
 (A large purple stain obscures the- 
 writing for several lines). 
 ********* 
 
 * * * * ga }(| t na £ our su pply f p ro . 
 
 visions is very inadequate. 
 
 A private soldier was about to- 
 clean his gun at supper time, when it 
 discharged accidentally, killing an 
 officer about a hundred yards away. 
 It is said he had a wife and five chil- 
 dren in New Hampshire. 
 
 69 
 
August 25. — Two items of bad 
 news — one of them momentous for 
 me. Rev. Rogers has been ordered 
 to officiate as chaplain to the garrison 
 left at Wyoming. I would rather 
 have that yellow liver trouble again 
 than have him go. When I told him 
 that, he said I should not become 
 blue, as I'd find it more enervating 
 and disqualifying than being yellow. 
 He said that brooding over disap- 
 pointment poisons the mind, and 
 quoted some scripture about taking 
 a hold of a plow and glancing back. 
 Jn many respects Rev. Rogers re- 
 minds me of my father. 
 
 I was told today that Goodman is 
 going to die, and that he wanted to 
 see me. I went to him. He is 
 greatly altered. They brought him 
 off the transport boat two days ago. 
 He hardly breathed, and was un- 
 conscious while I remained. 
 
 Worked, repacking feed and corn 
 in new bags. 
 
 August 2 6. 
 
 August 27. — Alas! that I must 
 rack my brain to discriminate be- 
 tween the truth and the ranting of a 
 fevered brain. O, if my father were 
 only alive! What I am to do, I 
 know not. I fear to tell what I know 
 for it may reveal a scandal. But I 
 cannot believe my mother was 
 wanton! And yet why did my father 
 always refuse to speak of her? I am 
 filled with grief and confusion. I am 
 resolved that I will tell Rev. Rogers 
 all about it in the morning and ask 
 him to read Queen Esther's letter. I 
 am in hopes that it will clarify mat- 
 ters. 
 
 Goodman is dead. But before he 
 died, he raved and raged in a fever; 
 and the dominating subject of his 
 mania was my mother. For one wild 
 moment he was in the midst of a 
 fight in which a "smooth faced vil- 
 lain" dealt death with his sword. 
 "Look you, boy! the sleek libertine is 
 caught! Ha! we found him singing 
 his amorous ditty to your mother! 
 Watch him! Beware his sword! 
 Oh! the villain! He fights like a mad 
 
 70 
 
man. Oh, the smooth villain! the 
 barbered knave! " 
 
 At intervals he was comatose, and 
 silent as death. Then he chattered 
 incoherently and at one time he sat 
 up, pointing wildly at me and shriek- 
 ing: "Don't blame her — he had a 
 devil — she was bewitched! Devilish 
 artifice, boy.flendish! Cunning deceit! 
 Don't blame her. See! boy, see! 
 She faints when he puts his arm 
 around her! Come, arouse your fa- 
 ther, shake him! Is he dead? Oh — " 
 He sank rapidly, breathing hard and 
 trying to clutch an imaginary foe. 
 Suddenly he laughed, a ghastly, aw- 
 ful laugh. "Ha, ha, let them torture 
 us! What matter? She has gone 
 with him, Redwood! Do you hear? 
 Ha! ha! ha! What's in life now, you 
 say? Did she submit? Did the 
 smooth faced devil persuade her? 
 Revenge! man, revenge! Revel, — 
 sing on, — music — women in plenty 
 to — See, they're gone, Redwood — ■ 
 Song and wine — the sun is gone out 
 —help! Oh! God! 
 
 No one standing near us seemed to 
 understand him, much to my relief. I 
 do not doubt that he was reviewing 
 the event of my mother's mysterious 
 disappearance from home, effected, I 
 presume by Walter Butler. The fiend! 
 Let him beware if I once sight him 
 over my smooth bore! 
 
 August 28. — O delay! what hast 
 thou wrought! Why did I not attend 
 the voice within me that urged me to 
 see Rev. Rogers last night. For now, 
 it is too late. We are on the march 
 and my good friend is miles down the 
 Susquehanna on the "Adventure," 
 nursing Lieut. Huston, on his way to 
 Wyoming. I must wait, now, until I 
 get back to civilization. I asked to be 
 excused from scouting today, going 
 to Gen. Sullivan personally with my 
 request. He lifted his brows, and 
 accepting that as an inquiry I stated 
 that I had not slept last night and 
 was excessively weary. He nodded 
 his assent and went on writing. 
 
 71 
 
chapter nn, 
 
 The Battle of Newton. 
 
 August 29. 
 
 August 3 0. — At last we have met 
 the foe in open battle, if indeed In- 
 dian warfare can be termed open. 
 They do not stand forth and cry 
 "Lay on, Macduff," but, as they did 
 yesterday at Newton, they employ 
 every art and strategy and ambush to 
 accomplish what honest fighting can- 
 not. Was there ever a race of hu- 
 man beings with a lower standard of ' 
 honor in battle? The battle meant 
 nothing to me; — I saw no sign of 
 Walter Butler. What care I for the 
 rest? 
 
 Yesterday was Sunday. Early in 
 the morning I was sent ahead alone 
 to reconnoitre. I was particularly 
 careful in view of the experiences of 
 certain scouts on Saturday. I found 
 a fresh trail and managed, thanks to 
 a method taught me by Quando, to 
 come upon an enemy without his see- 
 ing me. Not wanting to shoot I 
 smashed his skull. — A horrible office, 
 at which I shudder, but a dire necessi- 
 ty. I do not believe it killed him. 
 Armed with his rifle and knife as 
 well as my own I proceeded until I 
 found I was being followed by a dog. 
 It was a simple matter to wait be- 
 hind a tree until he came up, when I 
 knifed him. But he managed to give 
 a yell before I silenced him. 
 
 I retreated then, with all possible 
 haste. I had proved the way for 
 about two miles and the van began to 
 march at once upon my reporting to 
 headquarters. 
 
 Upon reaching the locality of my 
 encounter with the Indian's dog, the 
 army halted and several of us went 
 ahead. At scarcely six hundred 
 yards we detected evident signs of re- 
 cent encampment. As we stopped to 
 consult, a savage arose about fifty 
 yards ahead and after firing at us 
 fled. As he ran several others joined 
 him, firing now and then. It was an 
 evident plot to tempt us to follow into 
 
 72 
 
the ambush, — which we never would 
 have seen hut for Quando's keen 
 sight. 
 
 When Major Parr came up he ask- 
 ed me to climb the tallest tree in the 
 ■vicinity to see if I could see anything. 
 Quando and I both went up a tall 
 pine. We studied the landscape as 
 well as we could for the foliage 
 around us, for possibly ten minutes. 
 Then Quando thought he saw some 
 movement of colors not caused by the 
 swaying of flowers for which I had 
 taken it some moments before, and 
 at length I was convinced too that it 
 -was the moving about of painted red 
 men. We studied the scene until my 
 eyes ached. 
 
 When we came down we reported 
 what we had seen; to wit, a skilfully 
 concealed and formidable breastwork, 
 ■over a half-mile long, artfully cover- 
 ed and disguised with green boughs 
 and young trees. Their right flank 
 was protected by the river and the 
 mountain guarded their left. It was 
 a strategic point. In front was a 
 rushing stream hard to ford. 
 
 So here we were to decide the fate 
 of the Long House, the famous Five 
 Nations! I knew that wise and 
 crafty heads were on the other side 
 of that ambush. The infamous Wal- 
 ter Butler — my personal enemy, — 
 his crafty brother, also Joseph 
 Brandt, the educated Indian, and the 
 wily McDonald, were there; and 
 they are not men to make a fool- 
 hardy venture — unless driven to bay; 
 that I also knew. 
 
 They had seen us destroying their 
 ■corn, orchards, settlements and gar- 
 dens; and they realized that unless 
 we were stopped, they could never re- 
 deem the land and save the union of 
 the Long House. The pending con- 
 test was sure to be severe. 
 
 With splendid order and caution 
 our men came up and took position. 
 When the attacking column was 
 drawn up we waited for final orders 
 from the Commander-in-Chief. 
 
 It was not until three of the clock 
 that the battle began. Generals 
 
 73 
 
Poor and Clinton were ordered to 
 ascend the steep hill to our right and 
 by detouring fall on the enemy's rear. 
 When it was considered that they 
 had had time to get in position, we 
 of the rifle corps, who had advanced 
 to the creek and were within a hun- 
 dred yards of the foe's breastwork, 
 began firing. Our fire was returned 
 but did no damage as we lay in the 
 shelter of the creeks' bank. Col. 
 Proctor behind us, believing that 
 Generals Clinton and Poor were ready 
 to begin a concerted action, advanc- 
 ed with his artillery and so determin- 
 ed was the assault that the enemy fled 
 like cowards. 
 
 Gen. Maxwell was behind with the 
 reserve, and as the enemy fled from 
 before Col. Proctor, word reached 
 Gen. Maxwell that Gen. Poor had met 
 with stubborn resistance as he was 
 about to reach the summit of the hill. 
 He started to the rescue, leaving Col. 
 Ogden still in reserve to the left 
 near the river. But before he reach- 
 ed the hill, our men had prevailed, 
 and with the loss of only one killed, - 
 tho' there were several wounded. 
 
 After the center of the enemy's 
 line started to retreat we rushed 
 ahead in pursuit, but were embarras- 
 sed somewhat successfully by the ob- 
 struction, and ingenious twining of 
 vines, and sharpened posts driven in 
 the ground. As we reached the lines 
 there- was a determined rally and at- 
 tack on the enemy's part and I sus- 
 pected that we were being lured on 
 with intention. But after their sec- 
 ond volley, they heard firing back to 
 their left, our right; and at once fled 
 leaving all manner of things behind 
 which indicated that they had ex- 
 pected to hold us off and remain in 
 their position for some time. 
 
 Their retreat was successful in 
 most part as neither General Poor 
 nor General Clinton was able, owing 
 to the exceedingly fough country and 
 the anticipation of our move by the 
 enemy and their resistance on the 
 hill, to gain the rear of the enemy. 
 
 I saved my fire and changed my 
 
 74 
 
position often t e more of the 
 enemy in a va. iarch for Walter 
 Butler. 
 
 I took no act. >art in the battle 
 until the very clos^ when I had the 
 satisfaction, in the presence of several 
 aides-de-camp and Col. Proctor, of 
 preventing one of our wounded men's 
 being scalped, by snatching a paint- 
 ed savage as he was about to perform 
 the bloody act, and pitching him 
 headlong. I lost my footing in the 
 act, however, and fell. We both arose 
 simultaneously, and as I was in the 
 way of his intended flight he threw 
 himself upon me. I dodged to one 
 side as his knife grazed my face, and 
 with a swinging blow struck him un- 
 der the chin. It nearly broke my 
 hand, and appeared to quite break his 
 neck; for he lay where he fell and did 
 not move when one of our Indians 
 came up and scalped him. 
 
 If one had been in the vicinity, 
 within hearing but not within sight of 
 the battle, he must have thought that 
 immense havoc was being wrought 
 and awful carnage resulting. But 
 tho' the firing was heavy the earth 
 and trees received most of the leaden 
 storm. At least, we lost only three 
 or four men, tho' perhaps four or 
 five of the wounded will die. 
 
 Having chased them for about two 
 miles we returned to the captured po- 
 sition for the night. An aged hag 
 left behind, said that there were 700 
 of the enemy, in all; 500 savages, 
 nearly 200 tories and about twenty 
 British troops. 
 
 General Sullivan seems somewhat 
 discouraged. He thinks that the fail- 
 ure to gain the rear lost us a big 
 victory, tho' he made it clear that the 
 Generals Poor and Clinton, could not 
 have been expected to accomplish 
 that feat in view of circumstances. 
 
 August 3 0. — The Commander-in- 
 Chief made us a speech today in 
 which he thanked us for our soldierly 
 conduct and declared that the power ' 
 of the Iroquois has been broken. He 
 said that our march from this point 
 on will be that of conquerors; and 
 
 75 
 
while it is hard astroy the fruits 
 
 both of labor anc aature, it will be 
 our duty to rual lpossible the re- 
 turn of this "ret iurge." 
 
 We certainly have stamped an iron 
 heel upon this unnatural foe. We 
 have given them a taste of the treat- 
 ment they gave to the inhabitants of 
 Wyoming and Cherry valleys. It has 
 been a cruel revenge thus far, but 
 certainly it is justified. The assassins 
 were at our threshhold, with torches 
 to apply to our homes. Moreover, 
 we have not made the war on the 
 women and children of the aborig- 
 ines; nor have we maltreated the 
 prisoners. 
 
 By an unanimous vote it was de- 
 cided today to accept half rations 
 again until provisions can be gotten. 
 Thus far we have been successful in 
 procuring great quantities of pota- , 
 toes, pumpkins, squashes, beans and 
 corn, of which we would use all we 
 wanted, before we destroyed the 
 fields and gardens. 
 
 We have been detained here all 
 day partly by reason of the great '' 
 amount of corn, turnips and potatoes 
 to be destroyed and partly because of 
 the rain. 
 
 August 31. • 
 
 September 1. 
 
 September 2. 
 
 September 3. — O, the pity of it! 
 Certainly there is no sweetness in 
 this revenge. It is a dire necessity, I 
 presume; but I have no appetite for 
 it. We have been doing nothing but 
 raze and burn since the battle at 
 Newton. Col. Hubley and I compar- 
 ed journals today and from him I got 
 the following list of towns destroyed 
 to date: . 
 
 (1). Newtychanning on August 
 9th. (2). Old and New Chemung 
 on August 13th. (3). A small vil- 
 lage near the enemies' fortifications 
 on August 29th. (4). A number of 
 new buildings and supplies at Bald- 
 win's creek, on the same date; and, 
 (5), Newton, on August 31. 
 
 From a friend of Hubley who was 
 with General Clinton we got the fol- 
 
 76 
 
lowing list: (l). Albout, a Tory 
 settlement, August 12th. (2). 
 Shawhiangoto, twelve large houses, 
 August 17th. (3). Ingaren, near 
 above town, same day. (4). Otsin- 
 ingo, August 18th. 
 
 General Poor told me he had de- 
 stroyed three towns, Chugnutt, of 
 sixty good houses, August 19th. 
 Owegy, on Owego creek, August 19th, 
 and Mauchatawangum, destroyed on 
 August 16th. 
 
 Besides these the united armies 
 have destroyed Middletown, Kanaw- 
 aholla, (*) and Runonvea on August 
 31st, and Sheoquaga on September 
 1st. (**) 
 
 Upon coming today at Catharines 
 Town we heard a great barking of 
 dogs, and immediately prepared to 
 attack what we supposed to be the 
 resisting enemy in the town. But in- 
 vestigation showed that only one In- 
 dian was in the town, and she was an 
 old squaw too old, perhaps, to take 
 along. She told us that before the 
 enemy left, which it did very uncere- 
 moniously only an hour before we ar- 
 rived, many of the Indians wanted to 
 surrender themselves to the clemency 
 of the invading army but were pre- 
 vailed upon by the others by argu- 
 ments and threats. 
 
 I asked permission to give the 
 squaw a hut in which to find shelter, 
 and some provisions and cut wood. 
 This was granted and, when we took 
 her to the place, her savage heart was 
 touched and she wept quietly. 
 
 Kayuga lake is beautiful; and it 
 abounds in fish. On the way to the 
 lake I found Indian signals on two 
 trees. One was a branch pulled 
 down from a white-birch and two 
 leaves buried under a flat stone; sig- 
 
 (*) Site of Elmira. 
 
 ( * * ) There were twenty-two other 
 villages burned and left a mass of 
 black ruins after this date, on this 
 invasion, and thousands of orchards 
 were cut down. The desolate waste 
 had not enough on it to feed a child, 
 by Octo' er. 
 
 77 
 
nifying that their enemy had been 
 too strong. The other was a cross 
 strip of bark notched three times; 
 signifying that all warriors are to 
 collect at the next council fire. Inas- 
 much as that cannot, according to 
 custom, take place while an enemy is 
 within a day's march's distance, I do 
 not see that they can meet until they 
 get to the lakes and beyond 
 them. (***) 
 
 There is to me something very sad 
 about the ruin that has come to the 
 once powerful Long House. This 
 great confederation, whose influence 
 was once so great and whose chiefs 
 were once so proud and kingly, made 
 a disastrous mistake when it allowed 
 Walter Butler to address its secret 
 councils. 
 
 And so, have I in part avenged the 
 death of my good father, and have 
 seen with my own eyes the beginning 
 of the dissolution of the five nations. 
 But I have not been avenged on Wal- 
 ter Butler for the wrong, whatever 
 it might be, that he has done my 
 mother. 
 
 September 4. — News both remark- 
 able and delightful was my portion 
 today. In reconnoitering, one of our 
 men came upon a dead Indian chief 
 and a middle aged squaw lying on 
 him convulsed with grief. To my 
 amazement when they were brought 
 into camp all wet with the rain, I 
 recognized Sanaragha, the strong 
 armed one! The woman had a pitia- 
 ble tale. She was his wife. She told 
 me, as I knew her tongue well, that 
 Eghobund, the husband of Queen 
 Esther, had accused Sanaragha of 
 alienating the affections of his wife. 
 A quarrel had resulted and Sanaragha 
 had been killed. She said, more- 
 over, with flashing eyes that Queen 
 Esther profits by being out of her 
 
 (***) Walter Butler tried in vain 
 to lead them to another attack or per- 
 saude them to another resistance. 
 They found their way to Niagara and 
 a pestilence during the following 
 hard winter killed most of them. 
 
reach. From which I take it that 
 there is something in the accusation. 
 1 told her of my capturing the Queen 
 and the occasion of it. She answered 
 that Queen Esther had come for 
 Sanaragha because she wanted him 
 at Otsego lake; and that she never 
 was so solicitous about the welfare 
 of her own husband. From which, 
 and other things, I again derive that 
 the Queen is a trifle promiscuous in 
 her amours. 
 
 The delightful item of news is 
 that I am to be sent to Philadelphia 
 with messages! I have asked for a 
 transfer or honorable dismissal from 
 my position here that I may re-enlist 
 in the army under our great Comman- 
 der, His Excellency, General Wash- 
 ington. This, I have good assurance 
 ot, and I am to start early in the 
 morning. So then I may live to fight 
 in a civilized warfare, with men as 
 targets not the shadow of a man be- 
 hind a tree. 
 **.******* 
 
 If there is any message to be taken 
 again to General Sullivan from the 
 Assembly of Congress, and I am dele- 
 gated to bring it, my hopes will be 
 shattered, but I will not complain. 
 ********* 
 
 (Two, possibly three, pages of the 
 diary are missing). 
 ********* 
 
 * * * * unless the rain stops. I 
 would like with all my heart to run 
 down to Wyoming, for it is more than 
 likely that the garrison is still at the 
 fortress and that Rev. Rogers is still 
 with it. I dare not lose the time, 
 however, or the express will arrive 
 with the message before I do. 
 
 September 10. 
 
 September 11 — Noon — Fine, cool 
 weather for running. Covered about 
 twenty-eight miles yesterday and fif- 
 teen thus far today. I am in fine 
 health and spirits now. 
 
 P_ m. — shot a beautiful fox today. 
 Shall give the skin to Elizabeth. I am 
 only about sixty miles from her this, 
 evening. Fear I was a trifle too am- 
 
 79 
 
bitious this afternoon. My left 
 groin hurts. 
 
 September 12. — This is disgusting. 
 I have scarcely covered fifteen miles 
 and the country is beautifully open 
 and level. I shall rest from now, four 
 of the clock, until the same hour to- 
 morrow morning. By that time my 
 leg ought to feel better. 
 
 September 13. — X was awakened 
 this morning at 3 of the clock by the 
 weight of a monstrous rattlesnake on 
 my chest. It was after a pheasant, 
 however, and after crawling over me, 
 went on with his hunting. I ran five 
 miles, ate about thirty May apples, 
 rested, ran ten miles, took an hour's 
 nap, and then ran until sunset. It 
 is a beautiful sunset. I am not yet 
 in sight of Point Pokono. 
 
 September 14. — Nothing in partic- 
 ular. Ran twenty-five miles over 
 swampy tracts of land. 
 
 September 15. 
 
 September 16. — At last I am near 
 enough to see the trees on Point 
 Pokono. This has been a delightful 
 run so far, tho' I am not as far on 
 my way as I hoped to be by Thurs- 
 day. My groin is beginning to hurt 
 again. Unless it is painful tomor- 
 row, I will be able to surprise Eliza- 
 beth in just one more day. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Mysteries Unravel. 
 
 September 17. 
 
 September 18. — Where shall I be- 
 gin to write? There is a strong 
 temptation to omit chronological or- 
 der and plunge into the most import- 
 ant events since I wrote last in the 
 Moosic hills, but that would not be 
 observing the proper decorum in 
 writing one's journal. 
 
 I ran all of Friday as hard as I 
 could, and despite a severe pain in 
 my groin, made thirty-three miles, ar- 
 riving at Brinkers Mills hot and ex- 
 hausted just as another beautiful 
 sunset was in its glory. I went to 
 the lake at once; and after cooling for 
 about twenty minutes, took a thor- 
 
 SO 
 
ough bath with a piece of Quando's ' 
 wintergreen scented soap. "When I 
 had donned my new uniform — the 
 gift of General Sullivan, — but first 
 my new shirt, pretty well crushed by 
 carrying it in so small a package — ■ 
 tho' sweet and clean, — I felt like 
 another person. Having run bare- 
 footed, my hose and moccasins were 
 clean and felt good. The new home- 
 spun under-breeches scratched me 
 somewhat but I didn't mind. 
 
 All this I mention that I will not 
 forget that I did not venture to pre- 
 sent myself to Elizabeth unchival- 
 rously and inconsiderately. My 
 knees quaked and I was almost sick 
 at my stomach with nervousness 
 when I drew near to the lodge. 
 
 In the dusk I saw a man walking. 
 His walk was familiar, but I was un- 
 prepared for the surprise I received 
 upon reaching him. It was 'Squire 
 Van Campen! Him, of all my friends, 
 I least expected to see. He held my 
 hand in his a long time and spoke 
 brokenly. He had only favorable 
 news about his own family, and re- 
 markable news for me. An uncle of 
 his living near Easton has had a son 
 killed in General Washington's army, 
 and as he himself is too old to keep 
 the farm in good order he wants me, 
 whom the 'Squire recommended to 
 him, to take charge of the place with 
 the idea and agreement that I am to 
 derive all the profits and inherit one- 
 half the farm upon his decease. 
 
 I did my best to tell the 'Squire 
 how much I appreciated his good- 
 ness; and when I explained my er- 
 rand, and the visit I was about +o 
 make he laughed, and giving me his 
 blessing, went on into the store cabin. 
 But first he explained briefly that he 
 had come with Col. Stroud with some 
 provisions for the garrison at "Sulli- 
 van's stores." The madam, he said, 
 was back at Fort Penn. I begged 
 him not to retire early; but he shook 
 his head and said he would rout me 
 out early in the morning. 
 
 I sat down on a log to collect my 
 faculties, and looked toward the 
 
buildings. It was quite dark by this 
 time. As I gazed, wondering how to 
 contrive to get to Elizabeth without 
 being compelled to greet all the rest 
 before or at the same time, a light 
 flared up in one of the cabin rooms 
 and I saw Elizabeth's Aunt outlined 
 in the window. Presently the light 
 dimmed and she came out on the 
 porch of the cabin. I concluded to 
 take her into my confidence, so ad- 
 vanced and spoke. She was as surpris- 
 ed at first as she was cordial after- 
 wards; but she disappointed me by 
 saying Elizabeth was not well and had 
 retired about ten minutes before. She 
 said she would help me surprise her 
 in the morning. And so, it was ar- 
 ranged that she should take Eliza- 
 beth over on the edge of the woods, 
 where I should be waiting concealed 
 and, as she happily suggested, she 
 would leave her on some pretext to 
 return to the stoves. 
 
 I bade her good night and went 
 after 'Squire Van Campen. I an- 
 swered his teasing inquiries without 
 coloring, for I had more serious mat- 
 ters on my mind. 
 
 "'Squire,' - I said, "I want you to 
 tell me all you know about my 
 mother." 
 
 "My boy," he replied, looking at 
 me awhile and then dropping his 
 head, "you should not worry about 
 her. She was a sweet girl, and as 
 good as she was pretty." 
 
 After a pause he went on, playing 
 nervously with a stick he had been 
 carving: "You see, boy, there are 
 some mighty peculiar things in this 
 world, — some things that there is no 
 accounting for. One of them is this, 
 why will a person forget all his most 
 solid resolutions and sober determin- 
 ations in that moment when common 
 sense ought to tell him he is in no 
 condition to break his resolutions? 
 You see, boy, if folks would say to 
 themselves just this, now when I am 
 strongly tempted I will keep 
 in mind that at those sober moments 
 when there was no temptation play- 
 ing on my emotions and weaknesses, 
 
 82 
 
I resolved that it was best to keep 
 away and out of the trap, why don't 
 you see, boy, that it would save us 
 lots of misery? 
 
 "Now, I don't want to worry you 
 with what happened. — It was all a 
 mistake. She couldn't stem the 
 flood. Doubtless her emotions sim- 
 ply carried her reason away. Lots of 
 noble women have made the same 
 mistake. You can't account for the 
 choice of a woman's soul my boy, 
 that's a fact. Now, don't ask me to 
 tell you; — just you make up your 
 mind to forget all about it." 
 
 "Go on," I said, and cleared my 
 throat. 
 
 "What, boy? Don't you think you 
 would be happier to. . . ." 
 
 "Queen Esther, — you know of her, 
 'Squire? — told me, when she fell into 
 my hands, that she had hated my 
 mother and that my mother had been 
 as pure as a lily and as brave as a — " 
 
 "Edwin, Edwin " 
 
 — "As a tigress. And more than 
 that, Hosea Goodman who knew my 
 parents and was present when she 
 was stolen or driven away, said on 
 his death-bed that Walter Butler is 
 the one to blame and that on him I 
 should be avenged." 
 
 "Oh, my boy, my boy! You must 
 have suffered. Yes, I will tell you 
 what I know. Come closer. Sit 
 here. It's a sad story." 
 
 Then he told me a tale that froze 
 the blood in my veins and turned my 
 sinews to steel. Briefly it was this. 
 At a diplomatic ball in Philadelphia 
 my father met Walter Butler, who 
 was at that time, seventeen years 
 ago, a very bright, entertaining young 
 man. He sat next to my mother at 
 the banquet and she indulged his love 
 making sport, little thinking that her 
 beauty of which she was ever uncon- 
 scious, was instilling a livid passion 
 in her boyish play-suitor's heart. My 
 father met him later while on a hunt- 
 ing trip in the Delaware river flats, 
 and insisted upon his coming to make 
 him a visit. He came and astonished 
 both my parents with his wonderful 
 
 83 
 
voice and remarkable ability to play 
 the guitar. He sang, played and re- 
 lated fascinating romances until 
 daybreak. On the morrow he left, 
 promising to return later in the sum- 
 mer. 
 
 He did return, but with a motley 
 crew of Indians who encamped on 
 the river's bank. He came to the 
 cabin on a night when my father and 
 Goodman and VanCampen were 
 fighting a forest fire , — doubtless 
 started by Butler. My mother must 
 have greeted him cordially, and they 
 sat in the living room, waiting fo- 
 ray father to return. What happen- 
 ed is never to .be known; but when 
 my father returned and the rest with 
 him they saw his guitar on the floor 
 and him kneeling by it in front of 
 my mother who was holding her 
 hands to her face. 
 
 My father inquired the meaning of 
 the dramatic spectacle, and Butler 
 wheeled like a panther, snarling in a 
 white rage. He tried to compose 
 himself and explain that he was re- 
 citing a new and startling piece of 
 literature, but he succeeded so ill 
 that my father ordered him out of 
 the house. Whereupon he gave a 
 sharp whistle at the open window by 
 his side, and remarking that my 
 mother was too fair a bird to be caged 
 in a wilderness, drew his sword and 
 gashed my father above his left eye. 
 Neither of the others were armed, 
 but as my father fell they rushed at 
 Butler, — VanCampen receiving a 
 blow which rendered him unconscious 
 and Goodman clutching the intruder 
 in a vice-like grip, as they fell to- 
 gether. 
 
 My mother had fainted. I was 
 sleeping in my cradle above. Good- 
 man, might have prevailed but a 
 dozen savages came in answer to 
 Butler's whistle and soon Goodman 
 was tied to a tree and made the sport 
 of the savages. They pierced large 
 holes in his ears and hung large 
 rings in them; and they stripped him, 
 and were preparing to flay him alive, 
 
 84 
 
when Butler called them away, and 
 Goodman fainted. 
 
 When 'Squire VanCampen recover- 
 ed he thought my father dead and 
 upon finding and reviving Goodman 
 they worked with my father and 
 eventually saved his life, tho' he was 
 delirious for several days. A note 
 was found on the table in my moth- 
 er's hand saying that she wanted to 
 see the world and had decided to go 
 with Mr. Butler. 
 
 At this point I interrupted, "And 
 did none of you suspect that she had 
 been compelled to write it to save 
 herself and my father?" "No, hoy, — 
 that is, not at the time. As soon as 
 my wife had your father in her care 
 we wanted to go after the band but 
 your father would not let us. We 
 thought he had some good reason for 
 suspecting your mother, for he raged 
 about her infidelity like a mad man. 
 He was .really demented for over a 
 year, and all that time he declared 
 Mary was a wanton witch. But sud- 
 denly one day he changed, — but then 
 it was too late." 
 
 When I told him of Queen Esther's 
 letter, he said he had heard through 
 friendly Indians that Walter Butler /' 
 and Queen Esther were tke subjects 
 of a scandal. 
 
 It was after midnight when we 
 stopped talking; and reluctantly we 
 retired. He found a place for me. 
 
 This morning dawned clear and 
 rosy, and the dew sparkled like jew- 
 els as I went bright and early to the 
 edge of the wood and sat on a log. I 
 went too early for my ardour as well 
 as my mocassins, for both were pretty 
 well dampened during the hour or so 
 that I waited. I may as well con- 
 fess that the excitement or some- 
 thing was harder to bear than the 
 fear of going into battle. What at 
 first was pleasurable excitement be- 
 came painful misgiving. 
 
 At length she appeared — and her 
 aunt. I sequestered, and waited. 
 They came to the very log I had sat 
 on when her aunt bethought her of 
 a knife to cut some flowers or other, 
 
Her Fingers Resting on the Bark. 
 
 and also, — when Elizabeth wanted to 
 run back for her, — that she wished to 
 speak to Mrs. Schmidt. 
 
 Elizabeth sat down just where I 
 had sat. When I thought her aunt 
 was well out of hearing, I ventured 
 forth, with my heart in my throat. 
 
 She was pretty as she sat there 
 with her arms stretched out on the 
 log, her tapering fingers resting as 
 lightly on the bark as Venus on the 
 sea waves. I paused to look and ad- 
 mire, — and what a happy coincident 
 it was that I paused! For, as I stood, 
 still unobserved, she opened her 
 pretty lips, and faint but distinct I 
 heard: 
 
 "Edwin." 
 
 "Elizabeth," I answered. 
 
 She started in frights and then as 
 I came toward her, blushed a deep 
 crimson. 
 
 "Oh! have you come to stay? — is it 
 all over? — are you really here?" I 
 had taken her hands, and as I told 
 her that it is not all over but that I 
 was truly there, I drew her gently 
 to me and held her in my arms. And 
 she did not resist, — only looked at 
 me wonderingly with her big brown 
 eyes; and when I kissed her, she 
 trembled, sighed and buried her face 
 in my shoulder. 
 
 86 
 
She sat on the log and I at her feet, 
 and we talked while she mussed my 
 hair and I caressed her other hand. 
 We talked of everything but partic- 
 ularly of each other. And what she 
 told me there is too sacred a matter 
 to be recorded by a quill and poke- 
 berry juice. It Is enough to chronicle 
 that I confessed to her that upon 
 hearing her mention my name, some- 
 thing had melted within- me; and 
 that in my eyes her whole being had 
 become glorious with an irresistible 
 beauty, and her whole person redol- 
 ent of unutterable charm, grace and 
 sweetness. 
 
 ********* 
 * ■ * * And so we sat and talked, 
 and as we talked I suddenly asked 
 her whether she can read French. 
 When she said that she can, I gave 
 her Queen Esther's confession and 
 asked her indifferently to read it. She 
 studied it awhile and then gasped: 
 "What a frightful thing! What does 
 it mean, and who wrote it, Edwin?" 
 
 "Read it to me," I said, glad to 
 know it had not revealed its secret 
 and my connection with it. 
 
 After running over some doubtful 
 parts to herself, she read the follow- 
 ing startling revelation: 
 
 "Many years ago I loved Butler 
 with all the passion of my savage na- 
 ture. He knew it, and I thought he 
 responded. But one day I discovered 
 that he had a beautiful woman hid- 
 den in a house near Niagara. In a 
 ; rage I married a beast of a savage and 
 planned a revenge. Entering the 
 house by force with six savages, 
 while Butler was away I found the 
 ' woman. If I had possessed my senses 
 I would have realized what I after- 
 ward learned, that she was impris- 
 oned against her will. She was still 
 beautiful but faded and :!!. I thought 
 of nothing save that Butler loved her 
 and my knife sank into her bosom. 
 She was your mother, boy. When she 
 fell she looked at me and thanked me 
 for ending her misery. Butler 
 thinks she killed herself, as we cov- 
 
 87 
 
ered our tracks. You see why I, hav- 
 ing still the semblance of a soul, 
 cannot bring myself to harm you. I 
 always considered your mother my 
 real rival until a few years ago when 
 I heard the true story." 
 
 I sat as one dazed, until for Eliza- 
 beth's sake I explained the matter. I 
 told -her all of the story, and before 
 I had gone far we were both in 
 tears. 
 
 "Since you folks seem determined 
 to stay here all day I thought I'd 
 fetch you some tea and plum buns. 
 Do you realize that it is after two of 
 the clock?" 
 
 It was Elizabeth's aunt, coming 
 up the hill with a tray full of savory 
 morsels. She was in an excellent 
 humor and the three of us spent a de- 
 lightful afternoon. 
 
 Elizabeth and I tarried awhile af- 
 ter her aunt had left us and then af- 
 ter talking it over decided to go down 
 and break the news to her. 
 
 And now I must stop as the pages 
 of this book are exhausted. I must 
 get another bo.ok. I seem to have 
 written too copiously; but certainly 
 this eventful campaign has been very 
 interesting to me and has had a 
 most glorious ending. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 POST SCRIPT. 
 
 In the foregoing tale I have en- 
 deavored merely to popularize in 
 some measure a feature of the war 
 for independence which usually es- 
 capes serious consideration. It 
 meant everything to the struggling 
 frontier to be rid of the hostile In- 
 dians. The mistakes of injustice, 
 cruelty and unfaithfulness had been 
 irreparably committed against the 
 Indians long before the war. The ex- 
 pedition of Sullivan and Clinton was 
 the only solution of the question. 
 
 To preserve the slight element of 
 romance in this story I ventured to 
 take for granted that its readers 
 would remember their history, and so 
 
did not mention, that, after destroy- 
 ing countless orchards, food stations, 
 harvest fields and gardens, burning 
 over forty good sized towns and re- 
 ducing a fertile, beautiful country to 
 ashes and ruin, the victorious army 
 returned by almost the same route, 
 to Easton late in the Fall of the same 
 year, having lost only forty-one men 
 in the whole six months. The In- 
 dians having lost faith in Brandt and 
 Butler could not be rallied for 
 another resistance after the battle at 
 Newton; and after suffering a miser- 
 able existence the following winter 
 at Niagara where small pox and 
 another pestilence killed hundreds of 
 them, the remnant of the once proud 
 Five Nations was scattered to the 
 winds. 
 
 I wish to gratefully acknowledge 
 the kindness of Mr. J. S. Biesecker, 
 from whose volume of journals of the 
 officers and others in this famous ex- 
 pedition I have derived historic data 
 as well as much entertainment and 
 profit. M. R. H. 
 
 89 
 
3 1924 098 819 786 
 
 
 DATE 
 
 DUE 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 lnlemu 
 Loa 
 
 i dry 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 GAVLORD 
 
 
 
 PRINTED IN U.S.A.