“He'll never massacre anybody else. You've seen to that,” said Henry, and in a minute or two Taylor was quiet. The sharpshooting continued, but here as elsewhere, the Iroquois had the worst of it. Despite their numbers, they could not pass nor flank that line of deadly marksmen who lay behind trees almost in security, and who never missed. Another Tory and a chief, also, were killed, and Braxton Wyatt was daunted. Nor did he feel any better when old Hiokatoo crept to his side. “We have failed here,” he said. “They shoot too well for us to rush them. We have lost good men.” Hiokatoo frowned, and the scars on his face stood out in livid red lines. “It is so,” he said. “These who fight us now are of their best, and while we fight, the army that destroyed Oghwaga is coming up. Come, we will go.” The little white band soon saw that the Indians were gone from their front. They scouted some distance, and, finding no enemy, hurried back to Colonel Butler. The troops were pushed forward, and before night they reached Cunahunta, which they burned also. Some farther advance was made into the Indian country, and more destruction was done, but now the winter was approaching, and many of the men insisted upon returning home to protect their families. Others were to rejoin the main Revolutionary army, and the Iroquois campaign was to stop for the time. The first blow had been struck, and it was a hard one, but the second blow and third and fourth and more, which the five knew were so badly needed, must wait. Henry and his comrades were deeply disappointed. They had hoped to go far into the Iroquois country, to break the power of the Six Nations, to hunt down the Butlers and the Johnsons and Brant himself, but they could not wholly blame their commander. The rear guard, or, rather, the forest guard of the Revolution, was a slender and small force indeed. Henry and his comrades said farewell to Colonel Butler with much personal regret, and also to the gallant troops, some of whom were Morgan's riflemen from Virginia. The farewells to William Gray, Bob Taylor, and Cornelius Heemskerk were more intimate. “I think we'll see more of one another in other campaigns,” said Gray. “We'll be on the battle line, side by side, once more,” said Taylor, “and we'll strike another blow for Wyoming.” “I foresee,” said Cornelius Heemskerk, “that I, a peaceful man, who ought to be painting blue plates in Holland, will be drawn into danger in the great, dark wilderness again, and that you will be there with me, Mynheer Henry, Mynheer Paul, Mynheer the Wise Solomon, Mynheer the Silent Tom, and Mynheer the Very Long James. I see it clearly. I, a man of peace, am always being pushed in to war.” “We hope it will come true,” said the five together. “Do you go back to Kentucky?” asked William Gray. “No,” replied Henry, speaking for them all, “we have entered upon this task here, and we are going to stay in it until it is finished.”