The Minute Boys of the Wyoming Valley — John Shaqi
The Minute Boys of the Wyoming ValleyOtis, James
History
The Minute Boys of the Wyoming Valley
Otis, James
United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Juvenile fiction; Wyoming Valley (Pa.) -- History -- Juvenile fiction
It is not necessary I should say that we unbarred the gate without
delay, and, when Giles came in, throwing down the buck with the air of
one who has borne his burden as long as possible, I cried out, even
before greeting the others:
“How did you dare spend time in hunting when the woods are filled with
savages?”
“In the first place I didn’t spend any time hunting, and next, it seems
as if all the Indians who were round about the stockade had beat a
retreat to Wintermoot’s.”
Then Master Bartlett, dropping his load on the ground, said, with
boyish glee:
“There is meal enough, lad, to fatten your larder for two or three
days, at all events, and Daniel has got of dried deer flesh as much as
will serve to keep your jaws working for a full fortnight.”
The girl entered the stockade hurriedly, looking around with an air of
most intense relief, as if she had at last arrived at some secure place
of refuge, instead of having come where the chances were that death
awaited her.
“There is little need to keep more than one sentinel on duty,” Master
Bartlett said, with a laugh, “for, from what we have seen, the brave
band of Mohawks has decided to throw up the job with which John Butler
entrusted them, and are spending their time in all kinds of heathenish
mummery round about their lodges at Wintermoot’s.”
Hearing this, every fellow leaped from the platform and gathered around
those whose mission had been so quickly but thoroughly performed, to
hear their story.
“I will stand on guard while you tell us how it happened that you could
not only do what seemed impossible; but have brought with you that of
which we stood sorely in need,” I cried, all that burden of fear and
responsibility suddenly lifted from my shoulders, as I sprang upon the
platform just over the small gate.
“I reckon Giles had best spin the yarn,” Master Bartlett said, “while I
attend to my rheumatics, for spending the night nearabout the river has
not done my old joints any good.”
Then the old man fell to rubbing his knees energetically, and I knew,
despite the smile which he forced to his face, that he was suffering;
but, when I taxed him with it, he denied that he was in any great
pain, saying it was better to drive away the ache before it had fairly
settled down, than wait until it gained firm lodgment.
The remainder of the company clamored for a recital of what had been
done, so Giles could do no less than go into the details, while Daniel
led his sister to the blockhouse as if, which undoubtedly was the case,
she needed repose.
“It was all so easy that, but for our precautions, we might have got
back by daylight,” Giles began. “Believing the Indians were stationed
as they had been before the attack, we wormed our way through the
underbrush, thinking ourselves wondrously fortunate in not coming
across any, and only when we were within an hundred yards, perhaps, of
Wintermoot’s did we see the first show of an enemy.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account