United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Juvenile fiction; Wyoming Valley (Pa.) -- History -- Juvenile fiction
“There is yet time for us to wipe out the stain, and from this on will
I welcome danger, however great, because of the chance to show Master
Bartlett that it was our bodies, rather than our hearts, which gave
way.”
Then, as if we had agreed to hold our peace regarding the folly, we
spoke of it no more, but set about finding something which might serve
as food.
There is no good reason why I should tell of the long search, or of our
efforts to capture the coon which finally showed himself. It is enough
to say that, within less than two hours from the time of setting out,
we returned with meat enough for one meal, and had set a dozen or more
snares, using trailing vines in the stead of twine.
When we were come to the big tree where our friends had halted, no one
was to be seen, and a sickening fear came into my heart lest they had
been taken by the Tory hunters; but, even as we stood looking with
dismay into each other’s faces, Daniel Hinchman appeared before us.
“Master Bartlett has found what will serve as camp during such time
as the women may be forced to stay here, and there it will be safe to
build a fire that we may roast the meat.”
We went with him, arriving after a walk of five minutes at a sort of
cave under a shelving rock, on the side of the mountain where, thanks
to a thick screen of bushes, a party much larger than ours could remain
hidden from view of any who might pass without making careful search.
Another night was come before we had satisfied our hunger, and then
once more did I feel able to do my full share of the work necessary for
the defence of the valley, if so be we might get across the river.
Master Bartlett, mindful of others rather than himself, had gathered
fir-tips and leaves in sufficient quantity to form beds for the little
ones, who fell asleep as soon as they had eaten, and now he was making
ready to take some rest.
“I am thinking that this refuge is safer than Forty Fort, unless it
so chance the Congress begins to understand how sore is our need,”
Daniel Hinchman began, as if he had something more in mind, and Master
Bartlett replied, sleepily:
“Ay, lad, there is little chance either Tory or Indian will come thus
far among the mountains in search of victims, and here we may remain in
safety until such time as it is possible to cross the river.”
“If more of food could be had, I would rather Esther stayed here than
to go farther in search of what may not be found in our valley for many
days,” Daniel continued, and Master Bartlett, rising on his elbow,
asked, sharply:
“Tell us what it is you have in mind, lad, and without so much beating
about the bush.”
“How far think you it may be from here to the river?” Daniel asked,
without answering the question.
“Not above five miles at the most.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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