XX

  COCK-CROW

  AT DAWN WE left the road and struck the Oneida trail north of the river, following it swiftly, bearing a little north of east until, towards noon, we came into the wagon-road which runs over the Mayfield hills and down through the outlying bush farms of Mayfield and Kingsborough.

  Many of the houses were deserted, but not all; here and there smoke curled from the chimney of some lonely farm; and across the stump pasture we could see a woman laboring in the sun-scorched fields and a man, rifle in hand, standing guard on a vantage-point which overlooked his land.

  Fences and gates became more frequent, crossing the rough road every mile or two, so that we were constantly letting down and replacing cattle-bars, unpinning rude gates, or climbing over snake fences of split rails.

  Once we came to a cross-roads where the fence had been demolished and a warning painted on a rough pine board above a wayside watering-trough.

  “WARNING!

  All farmers and townsfolk are hereby requested and ordered to remove gates, stiles, cow-bars, and fences, which includes all obstructions to the public highway, in order that the cavalry may pass without difficulty. Any person found felling trees across this road, or otherwise impeding the operations of cavalry by building brush, stump, rail, or stone fences across this road, will be arrested and tried before a court on charge of aiding and giving comfort to the enemy. G. COVERT,

  “Captain Commanding Legion.”

  Either this order did not apply to the cross-road which we now filed into, or the owners of adjacent lands paid no heed to it; for presently, a few rods ahead of us, we saw a snake fence barring the road and a man with a pack on his back in the act of climbing over it.

  He was going in the same direction that we were, and seemed to be a fur-trader laden with packets of peltry.

  I said this to Murphy, who laughed and looked at Mount.

  “Who carries pelts to Quebec in August?” asked Elerson, grinning.

  “There’s the skin of a wolverine dangling from his pack,” I said, in a low voice.

  Murphy touched Mount’s arm, and they halted until the man ahead had rounded a turn in the road; then they sprang forward, creeping swiftly to the shelter of the undergrowth at the bend of the road, while Elerson and I followed at an easy pace.

  “What is it?” I asked, as we rejoined them where they were kneeling, looking after the figure ahead.

  “Nothing, sir; we only want to see them pelts, Tim and me.”

  “Do you know the man?” I demanded.

  Murphy gazed musingly at Mount through narrowed eyes. Mount, in a brown study, stared back.

  “Phwere th’ divil have I seen him, I dunnoa!” muttered Murphy. “Jack, ’tis wan mush-rat looks like th’ next, an’ all thrappers has the same cut to them! Yonder’s no thrapper!”

  “Nor peddler,” added Mount; “the strap of the Delaware baskets never bowed his legs.”

  “Thrue, avick! Wisha, lad, ’tis horses he knows better than snow-shoes, bed-plates, an’ thrip-sticks! An’ I’ve seen him, I think!”

  “Where?” I asked.

  He shook his head, vacantly staring. Moved by the same impulse, we all started forward; the man was not far ahead, but our moccasins made no noise in the dust and we closed up swiftly on him and were at his elbow before he heard us.

  Under the heavy sunburn the color faded in his cheeks when he saw us. I noted it, but that was nothing strange considering the perilous conditions of the country and the sudden shock of our appearance.

  “Good-day, friend,” cried Mount, cheerily.

  “Good-day, friends,” he replied, stammering as though for lack of breath.

  “God save our country, friend,” added Elerson, gravely.

  “God save our country, friends,” repeated the man.

  So far, so good. The man, a thick, stocky, heavy-eyed fellow, moistened his broad lips with his tongue, peered furtively at me, and instantly dropped his eyes. At the same instant memory stirred within me; a vague recollection of those heavy, black eyes, of that broad, bow-legged figure set me pondering.

  “Me fri’nd,” purred Murphy, persuasively, “is th’ Frinch thrappers balin’ August peltry f’r to sell in Canady?”

  “I’ve a few late pelts from the lakes,” muttered the man, without looking up.

  “Domned late,” cried Murphy, gayly. “Sure they do say, if ye dhraw a summer mink an’ turrn th’ pelt inside out like a glove, the winther fur will sprout inside — wid fashtin’ an’ prayer.”

  The man bent his eyes obstinately on the ground; instead of smiling he had paled.

  “Have you the skin of a wampum bird in that bale?” asked Mount, pleasantly.

  Elerson struck the pack with the flat of his hand; the mangy wolverine pelt crackled.

  “Green hides! Green hides!” laughed Mount, sarcastically. “Come, my friend, we’re your customers. Down with your bales and I’ll buy.”

  Murphy had laid a heavy hand on the man’s shoulder, halting him short in his tracks; Elerson, rifle cradled in the hollow of his left arm, poked his forefinger into the bales, then sniffed at the aperture.

  “There are green hides there!” he exclaimed, stepping back. “Jack, slip that pack off!”

  The man started forward, crying out that he had no time to waste, but Murphy jerked him back by the collar and Elerson seized his right arm.

  “Wait!” I said, sharply. “You cannot stop a man like this on the highway!”

  “You don’t know us, sir,” replied Mount, impudently.

  “Come, Colonel Ormond,” added Elerson, almost savagely. “You’re our captain no longer. Give way, sir. Answer for your own men, and we’ll answer to Danny Morgan!”

  Mount, struggling to unfasten the pack, looked over his huge shoulders at me.

  “Not that we’re not fond of you, sir; but we know this old fox now—”

  “You lie!” shrieked the man, hurling his full weight at Murphy and tearing his right arm free from Elerson’s grip.

  There came a flash, an explosion; through a cloud of smoke I saw the fellow’s right arm stretched straight up in the air, his hand clutching a smoking pistol, and Elerson holding the arm rigid in a grip of steel.

  “INSTANTLY MOUNT TRIPPED THE MAN”.

  Instantly Mount tripped the man flat on his face in the dust, and Murphy jerked his arms behind his back, tying them fast at the wrists with a cord which Elerson cut from the pack and flung to him.

  “Rip up thim bales, Jack!” said Murphy. “Yell find them full o’ powther an’ ball an’ cutlery, sorr, or I’m a liar!” he added to me. “This limb o’ Lucifer is wan o’ Francy McCraw’s renegados! — Danny Redstock, sorr, th’ tirror av the Sacandaga!”

  Redstock! I had seen him at Broadalbin that evening in May, threatening the angry settlers with his rifle, when Dorothy and the Brandt-Meester and I had ridden over with news of smoke in the hills.

  Murphy tied the prostrate man’s legs, pulled him across the dusty road to the bushes, and laid him on his back under a great maple-tree.

  Mount, knife in hand, ripped up the bales of crackling peltry, and Elerson delved in among the skins, flinging them right and left in his impatient search.

  “There’s no powder here,” he exclaimed, rising to his knees on the road and staring at Mount; “nothing but badly cured beaver and mangy musk-rat.”

  “Well, he baled ’em to conceal something!” insisted Mount. “No man packs in this moth-eaten stuff for love of labor. What’s that parcel in the bottom?”

  “Not powder,” replied Elerson, tossing it out, where it rebounded, crackling.

  “Squirrel pelts,” nodded Mount, as I picked up the packet and looked at the sealed cords. The parcel was addressed: “General Barry St. Leger, in camp before Stanwix.” I sat down on the grass and began to open it, when a groan from the prostrate prisoner startled me. He had struggled to a sitting posture, and was facing me, eyes bulging from their sockets. Every vestige of color had left his visage.

  “For God’s sake don’t open that!” he gasped— “there is naught there, sir—”

  “Silence!” roared Mount, glaring at him, while Murphy and Elerson, dropping their armfuls of pelts, came across the road to the bank where I sat.

  “I will not be silent!” screamed the man, rocking to and fro on the ground. “I did not do that! — I know nothing of what that packet holds! A Mohawk runner gave it to me — I mean that I found it on the trail—”

  The riflemen stared at him in contempt while I cut the strings of the parcel and unrolled the bolt of heavy miller’s cloth.

  At first I did not comprehend what all that mass of fluffy hair could be. A deep gasp from Mount enlightened me, and I dropped the packet in a revulsion of horror indescribable. For the parcel was fairly bursting with tightly packed scalps.

  In the deathly silence I heard Redstock’s hoarse breathing. Mount knelt down and gently lifted a heavy mass of dark, silky hair.

  At last Elerson broke the silence, speaking in a strangely gentle and monotonous voice.

  “I think this hair was Janet McCrea’s. I saw her many times at Half-moon. No maid in Tryon County had hair like hers.”

  Shuddering, Mount lifted a long braid of dark-brown hair fastened to a hoop painted blue. And Elerson, in that strange monotone, continued speaking:

  “The hair on this scalp is braided to show that the woman was a mother; the skin stretched on a blue hoop confirms it.

  “The murderer has painted the skin yellow with red dots to represent tears shed for the dead by her family. There is a death-maul painted below in black; it shows how she was killed.”

  He laid the scalp back very carefully. Under the mass of hair a bit of paper stuck out, and I drew it from the dreadful packet. It was a sealed letter directed to General St. Leger, and I opened and read the contents aloud in the midst of a terrible silence.

  “SACANDAGA VLAIE,

  August 17, 1777

  “ General Barry St. Leger

  “SIR, — I send you under care of Daniel Redstock the first packet of scalps, cured, dried, hooped, and painted; four dozen in all, at twenty dollars a dozen, which will be eighty dollars. This you will please pay to Daniel Redstock, as I need money for tobacco and rum for the men and the Senecas who are with me.

  “Return invoice with payment acquitted by the bearer, who will know where to find me. Below I have prepared a true invoice. Your very humble servant,

  “F. MCCRAW.

  “Invoice.

  (6) Six scalps of farmers, green hoops to show they were killed

  in their fields; a large white circle for the sun, showing

  it was day; black bullet mark on three; hatchet on two.

  (2) Two of settlers, surprised and killed in their houses or barns;

  hoops red; white circle for the sun; a little red foot to show

  they died fighting. Both marked with bullet symbol.

  (4) Four of settlers. Two marked by little yellow flames to show

  how they died. (My Senecas have had no prisoners for

  burning since August third.) One a rebel clergyman, his

  band tied to the scalp-hoop, and a little red foot under a red

  cross painted on the skin. (He killed two of my men before

  we got him.) One, a poor scalp, the hair gray and

  thin; the hoop painted brown. (An old man whom we

  found in bed in a rebel house.)

  (12) Twelve of militia soldiers; stretched on black hoops four inches

  in diameter, inside skin painted red; a black circle showing

  they were outposts surprised at night; hatchet as usual.

  (12) Twelve of women; one unbraided — a very fine scalp (bought

  of a Wyandot from Burgoyne’s army), which I paid full

  price for; nine braided, hoops blue, red tear-marks; two

  very gray; black hoops, plain brown color inside; death-maul

  marked in red.

  (6) Six of boys’ scalps; small green hoops; red tears; symbols

  in black of castete, knife, and bullet.

  (5) Five of girls’ scalps; small yellow hoops. Marked with the

  Seneca symbol to whom they were delivered before scalping.

  (l) One box of birch-bark containing an infant’s scalp; very little

  hair, but well dried and cured. (I must ask full price

  for this.)

  48 scalps assorted, @ 20 dollars a dozen..............80 dollars.

  “Received payment, F. McCRAW.”

  The ghastly face of the prisoner turned livid, and he shrieked as Mount caught him by the collar and dragged him to his feet.

  “Jack,” I said, hoarsely, “the law sends that man before a court.”

  “Court be damned!” growled Mount, as Elerson uncoiled the pack-rope, flung one end over a maple limb above, and tied a running noose on the other end.

  Murphy crowded past me to seize the prisoner, but I caught him by the arm and pushed him aside.

  “Men!” I said, angrily; “I don’t care whose command you are under. I’m an officer, and you’ll listen to me and obey me with respect. Murphy!”

  The Irishman gave me a savage stare.

  “By God!” I cried, cocking my rifle, “if one of you dares disobey, I’ll shoot him where he stands! Murphy! Stand aside! Mount, bring that prisoner here!”

  There was a pause; then Murphy touched his cap and stepped back quietly, nodding to Mount, who shuffled forward, pushing the prisoner and darting a venomous glance at me.

  “Redstock,” I said, “where is McCraw?”

  A torrent of filthy abuse poured out of the prisoner’s writhing mouth. He cursed us, threatening us with a terrible revenge from McCraw if we harmed a hair of his head.

  Astonished, I saw that he had mistaken my attitude for one of fear. I strove to question him, but he insolently refused all information. My men ground their teeth with impatience, and I saw that I could control them no longer.

  So I gave what color I could to the lawless act of justice, partly to save my waning authority, partly to save them the consequences of executing a prisoner who might give valuable information to the authorities in Albany.

  I ordered Elerson to hold the prisoner and adjust the noose; Murphy and Mount to the rope’s end. Then I said: “Prisoner, this field-court finds you guilty of murder and orders your execution. Have you anything to say before sentence is carried out?”

  The wretch did not believe we were in earnest. I nodded to Elerson, who drew the noose tight; the prisoner’s knees gave way, and he screamed; but Mount and Murphy jerked him up, and the rope strangled the screech in his throat.

  Sickened, I bent my head, striving to count the seconds as he hung twisting and quivering under the maple limb.

  Would he never die? Would those spasms never end?

  “Shtep back, sorr, if ye plaze, sorr,” said Murphy, gently. “Sure, sorr, ye’re as white as a sheet. Walk away quiet-like; ye’re not used to such things, sorr.”

  I was not, indeed; I had never seen a man done to death in cold blood. Yet I fought off the sickening faintness that clutched at my heart; and at last the dangling thing hung limp and relaxed, turning slowly round and round in mid-air.

  Mount nodded to Murphy and fell to digging with a sharpened stick. Elerson quietly lighted his pipe and aided him, while Murphy shaved off a white square of bark on the maple-tree under the slow-turning body, and I wrote with the juice of an elderberry:

  “Daniel Redstock, a child murderer, executed by American Riflemen for his crimes, under order of George Ormond, Colonel of Rangers, August 19, 1777. Renegades and Outlaws take warning!”

  When Mount and Elerson had finished the shallow grave, they laid the scalps of the murdered in the hole, stamped down the earth, and covered it with sticks and branches lest a prowling outlaw or Seneca disinter the remains and reap a ghastly reward for their redemption from General the Hon. Barry St. Leger, Commander of the British, Hessians, Loyal Colonials, and Indians, in camp before Fort Stanwix.

  As we left that dreadful spot, and before I could interfere to prevent them, the three riflemen emptied their pieces into the swinging corpse — a useless, foolish, and savage performance, and I said so sharply.

  They were very docile and contrite and obedient now, explaining that it was a customary safeguard, as hanged men had been revived more than once — a flimsy excuse, indeed!

  “Very well,” I said; “your shots may draw McCraw’s whole force down on us. But doubtless you know much more than your officers — like the militia at Oriskany.”

  The reproof struck home; Mount muttered his apology; Murphy offered to carry my rifle if I was fatigued.

  “It was thoughtless, I admit that,” said Elerson, looking backward, uneasily. “But we’re close to the patroon’s boundary.”

  “We’re within bounds now,” said Mount. “Fonda’s Bush lies over there to the southeast, and the Vlaie is yonder below the mountain-notch. This wagon-track runs into the Fish-House road.”

  “How far are we from the manor?” I asked.

  “About two miles and a half, sir,” replied Mount. “Doubtless some of Sir George Covert’s horsemen heard our shots, and we’ll meet ’em cantering out to investigate.”

  I had not imagined we were as near as that. A painful thrill passed through me; my heart leaped, beating feverishly in my breast.

  Minute after minute dragged as we filed swiftly onward, mechanically treading in each other’s tracks. I strove to consider, to think, to picture the sad, strange home-coming — to see her as she would stand, stunned, astounded that I had ignored her appeal to help her by my absence.

  I could not think; my thoughts were chaos; my brain throbbed heavily; I fixed my hot eyes on the road and strode onward, numbed, seeing, hearing nothing.

  And, of a sudden, a shout rang out ahead; horsemen in line across the road, rifles on thigh, moved forward towards us; an officer reversed his sword, drove it whizzing into the scabbard, and spurred forward, followed by a trooper, helmet flashing in the sun.

  “Ormond!” cried the officer, flinging himself from his horse and holding out both white-gloved hands.

  “Sir George, ... I am glad to see you.... I am very — happy,” I stammered, taking his hands.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308 309 310 311 312 313 314 315 316 317 318 319 320 321 322 323 324 325 326 327 328 329 330 331 332 333 334 335 336 337 338 339 340 341 342 343 344 345 346 347 348 349 350 351 352 353 354 355 356 357 358 359 360 361 362 363 364 365 366 367 368 369 370 371 372 373 374 375 376 377 378 379 380 381 382 383 384 385 386 387 388 389 390 391 392 393 394 395 396 397 398 399 400 401 402 403 404 405 406 407 408 409 410 411 412 413 414 415 416 417 418 419 420 421 422 423 424 425 426 427 428 429 430 431 432 433 434 435 436 437 438 439 440 441 442 443 444 445 446 447 448 449 450 451 452 453 454 455 456 457 458 459 460 461 462 463 464 465 466 467 468 469 470 471 472 473 474 475 476 477 478 479 480 481 482 483 484 485 486 487 488 489 490 491 492 493 494 495 496 497 498 499 500 501 502 503 504 505 506 507 508 509 510 511 512 513 514 515 516 517 518 519 520 521 522 523 524 525 526 527 528 529 530 531 532 533 534 535 536 537 538 539 540 541 542 543 544 545 546 547 548 549 550 551 552 553 554 555 556 557 558 559 560 561 562 563 564 565 566 567 568 569 570 571 572 573 574 575 576 577 578 579 580 581 582 583 584 585 586 587 588 589 590 591 592 593 594 595 596 597 598 599 600 601 602 603 604 605 606 607 608 609 610 611 612 613 614 615 616 617 618 619 620 621 622 623 624 625 626 627 628 629 630 631 632 633 634 635 636 637 638 639 640 641 642 643 644 645 646 647 648 649 650 651 652 653 654 655 656 657 658 659 660 661 662 663 664 665 666 667 668 669 670 671 672 673 674 675 676 677 678 679 680 681 682 683 684 685 686 687 688 689 690 691 692 693 694 695 696 697 698 699 700 701 702 703 704 705 706 707 708 709 710 711 712 713 714 715 716 717 718 719 720 721 722 723 724 725 726 727 728 729 730 731 732 733 734 735 736 737 738 739 740 741 742 743 744 745 746 747 748 749 750 751 752 753 754 755 756 757 758 759 760 761 762 763 764 765 766 767 768 769 770 771 772 773 774 775 776 777 778 779 780 781 782 783 784 785 786 787 788 789 790 791 792 793 794 795 796 797 798 799 800 801 802 803 804 805 806 807 808 809 810 811 812 813 814 815 816 817 818 819 820 821 822 823 824 825 826 827 828 829 830 831 832 833 834 835 836 837 838 839 840 841 842 843 844 845 846 847 848 849 850 851 852 853 854 855 856 857 858 859 860 861 862 863 864 865 866 867 868 869 870 871 872 873 874 875 876 877 878 879 880 881 882 883 884 885 886 887 888 889 890 891 892 893 894 895 896 897 898 899 900 901 902 903 904 905 906 907 908 909 910 911 912 913 914 915 916 917 918 919 920 921 922 923 924 925 926 927 928 929 930 931 932 933 934 935 936 937 938 939 940 941 942 943 944 945 946 947 948 949 950 951 952 953 954 955 956 957 958 959 960 961 962 963 964 965 966 967 968 969 970 971 972 973 974 975 976 977 978 979 980 981 982 983 984 985 986 987 988 989 990 991 992 993 994 995 996 997 998 999 1000 1001 1002 1003 1004 1005 1006 1007 1008 1009 1010 1011 1012 1013 1014 1015 1016 1017 1018 1019 1020 1021 1022 1023 1024 1025 1026 1027 1028 1029 1030 1031 1032 1033 1034 1035 1036 1037 1038 1039 1040 1041 1042 1043 1044 1045 1046 1047 1048 1049 1050 1051 1052 1053 1054 1055 1056 1057 1058 1059 1060 1061 1062 1063 1064 1065 1066 1067 1068 1069 1070 1071 1072 1073 1074 1075 1076 1077 1078 1079 1080 1081 1082 1083 1084 1085 1086 1087 1088 1089 1090 1091 1092 1093 1094 1095 1096 1097 1098 1099 1100 1101 1102 1103 1104 1105 1106 1107 1108 1109 1110 1111 1112 1113 1114 1115 1116 1117 1118 1119 1120 1121 1122 1123 1124 1125 1126 1127 1128 1129 1130 1131 1132 1133 1134 1135 1136 1137 1138 1139 1140 1141 1142 1143 1144 1145 1146 1147 1148 1149 1150 1151 1152 1153 1154 1155 1156 1157 1158 1159 1160 1161 1162 1163 1164 1165 1166 1167 1168 1169 1170 1171 1172 1173 1174 1175 1176 1177 1178 1179 1180 1181 1182 1183 1184 1185 1186 1187 1188 1189 1190 1191 1192 1193 1194 1195 1196 1197 1198 1199 1200 1201 1202 1203 1204 1205 1206 1207 1208 1209 1210 1211 1212 1213 1214 1215 1216 1217 1218 1219 1220 1221 1222 1223 1224 1225 1226 1227 1228 1229 1230 1231 1232 1233 1234 1235 1236 1237 1238 1239 1240 1241 1242 1243 1244 1245 1246 1247 1248 1249 1250 1251 1252 1253 1254 1255 1256 1257 1258 1259 1260 1261 1262 1263 1264 1265 1266 1267 1268 1269 1270 1271 1272 1273 1274 1275 1276 1277 1278 1279 1280 1281 1282 1283 1284 1285 1286 1287 1288 1289 1290 1291 1292 1293 1294 1295 1296 1297 1298 1299 1300 1301 1302 1303 1304 1305 1306 1307 1308 1309 1310 1311 1312 1313 1314 1315 1316 1317 1318 1319 1320 1321 1322 1323 1324 1325 1326 1327 1328 1329 1330 1331 1332 1333 1334 1335 1336 1337 1338 1339 1340 1341 1342 1343 1344 1345 1346 1347 1348 1349 1350 1351 1352 1353 1354 1355 1356 1357 1358 1359