The Shadow of the North: A Story of Old New York and a Lost CampaignAltsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
History
The Shadow of the North: A Story of Old New York and a Lost Campaign
Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
United States -- History -- French and Indian War, 1754-1763 -- Juvenile fiction
The blockhouse itself, was divided into a number of rooms, in which
the soldiers who were not on guard could sleep, and they had blankets
and the skins of the larger animals the hunters killed for
beds. Venison jerked in great quantities was stored away in case of
siege, and the whole forest was made to contribute to their
larder. The work was hard, but it toughened the sinews of the young
soldiers, and gave them an occupation in which they were interested.
Before it was finished they were joined by another small detachment
with loaded pack horses, which by the same kind of miracle had come
safely through the wilderness. Colden now had a hundred men, fifty
horses and powder and lead for all the needs of which one could think.
"If we only had a cannon!" he said, looking proudly at their new
blockhouse, "I think I'd build a platform for it there on the roof,
and then we could sweep the forest in every direction. Eh, Will, my
lad?"
"But as we haven't," said Wilton, "we'll have to do the sweeping with
our rifles."
"And our men are good marksmen, as they showed in that fight with
St. Luc. But it seems a world away from Philadelphia, doesn't it,
Will? I wonder what they're doing there!"
"Counting their gains in the West India trade, looking at the latest
fashions from England that have come on the ships up the Delaware,
building new houses out Germantown way, none of them thinking much of
the war, except old Ben Franklin, who pegs forever at the governor of
the Province, the Legislature, and every influential man to take
action before the French and Indians seize the whole border."
"I hope Franklin will stir 'em up, and that they won't forget us out
here in the woods. For us at least the French and Indians are a
reality."
Meanwhile summer had turned into autumn, and autumn itself was
passing.
CHAPTER V
THE RUNNER
Fort Refuge, the stronghold raised by young arms, was the most distant
point in the wilderness held by the Anglo-American forces, and for a
long time it was cut off entirely from the world. No message came out
of the great forest that rimmed it round, but Colden had been told to
build it and hold it until he had orders to leave it, and he and his
men waited patiently, until word of some kind should come or they
should be attacked by the French and Indian forces that were gathering
continually in the north.
They saw the autumn reach its full glory. The wilderness glowed in
intense yellows and reds. The days grew cool, and the nights cold, the
air was crisp and fresh like the breath of life, the young men felt
their muscles expand and their courage rise, and they longed for the
appearance of the enemy, sure that behind their stout palisade they
would be able to defeat whatever numbers came.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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