United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Juvenile fiction; Wyoming Valley (Pa.) -- History -- Juvenile fiction
It would have been strange indeed if I had not been stung into action
by this time, and on the instant I stood beside Giles.
“Now are you true lads of the valley!” the old man cried, in delight.
“I can well understand how much of despair came when we found ourselves
back among the hills, and stronger men than you have made the same
fatal mistake of yielding before the last ounce of strength has been
spent. Now that you are come to your senses, let us decide upon what
seems the best course, and then hold to it. We will begin by resting a
bit, after which our heads will be the clearer.”
Then the old man threw himself down at the foot of a huge tree, and we
lads followed his example, when he said, as if having forgotten our
folly:
“Mayhap it was for the best that we got turned about. The Tories who
chased us into Fort Ogden know that some of us who left the stockade
yet remain on this side the river, and are doubtless hunting for us.
We will have a better chance of getting across after four and twenty
hours have passed, and shall then be in fair shape for whatsoever of a
struggle may be necessary, if in the meantime we can pick up something
to stay the gnawing in our stomachs.”
Then the old man began explaining how we might be able to snare such
small game as rabbits among the mountains, and to speculate as to the
possibility of catching a coon or a hedgehog, for anything in the way
of meat would be welcomed by us, until my cheeks glowed red with shame
because I, who called myself captain of the Minute Boys, had lacked the
courage which he was showing.
While he was thus heartening, and at the same time covering us with
confusion, we were startled by hearing a noise in the thicket as if a
number of people were approaching, and straightway forgetting that I
had so lately resigned myself to death, I drew my knife while creeping
behind the tree, determined to sell life dearly, for there was no
question in my mind but that the Tories were hunting us down.
Then, an instant later, I cried aloud in surprise, for Daniel Hinchman
and his sister Esther came in view, and, before either of us could
speak, we saw that they were followed by two women and as many children.
“How did you get here?” Giles cried, in joyful surprise, as he sprang
forward to where Daniel was standing in open-mouthed astonishment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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