The Rangers; or, The Tory's Daughter: A Tale Illustrative of the Revolutionary History of Vermont and the Northern Campaign of 1777Thompson, Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce)
History
The Rangers; or, The Tory's Daughter: A Tale Illustrative of the Revolutionary History of Vermont and the Northern Campaign of 1777
Thompson, Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce)
Vermont -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
A momentary pause ensued; when, amidst the intermingling shouts and
cries of murder and vengeance, that now burst from both scouts and
Indians, the fiend-like perpetrator of the foul deed, who had been
seen to leap forward towards his fallen victim with his scalping-knife,
bounded back into the road, and, there holding up and shaking the
gory trophy at his rival, immediately plunged into the forest and
disappeared. The next moment a detachment of British cavalry, who had
been sent out to intercept the scouts, came thundering down the road,
and put an end to the tumult. Turning away in horror from the spot, now
made dangerous by the presence of the British, who, on seeing what was
done, and learning the facts, soon began to scatter in all directions
after the murderer, Miss Haviland and her guide hastily resumed their
journey by the route which the latter had discovered for avoiding the
road, and which they pursued till dark, when, arriving at the house of
a family in the interest of the American cause, they found a comfortable
shelter for the night, and the repose so much needed to counteract the
effect of the agitating events of the day on our heroine, and fortify
her for the trials yet in store for her.
CHAPTER XI.
“Still on? Have not the forest gloom,
The taunt of foes, the threatened doom,
Shaken thy courage yet?”
The indefatigable Bart, after seeing the object of his greatest
solicitude in safety for the night, that of his next, his loved
Lightfoot, well stabled and fed, and, lastly, his own wants supplied,
determined, with his usual caution and forethought, on making a little
tour of observation to Fort Edward, now some miles in the rear, for the
purpose of gathering what new intelligence could be gained respecting
the movements of the enemy, which might both enhance the value of his
budget of news to carry home, and enable him to shape his course more
understandingly and safely on the morrow. Accordingly, in the new
disguise of a barefooted, bareheaded, coatless farmer's boy, with a
basket of green corn to sell for roasting slung on his arm, he proceeded
on foot to the recently-established rendezvous of the enemy at the place
above named, and boldly entered their encampment. Here he soon made
discoveries that filled him with uneasiness, and, finally, those which
thoroughly alarmed him for his own and the safety of his charge. The
whole camp was in a state of bustle and commotion. Colonel Baum, in
anticipation of the time fixed for his march, had just arrived with his
appointed force, and was intending, after allowing his troops a short
respite, to press immediately forward that night on the contemplated
expedition. Bands of painted Indians, who had also arrived from the main
army since dark, were feasting and drinking in grim revelry, or enacting
the frightful war-dance, on the outskirts of the encampment. Parties of
tories were constantly coming in from the surrounding towns, receiving
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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