“If it was a Yankee trick to scare away that squad of savages and save the youngster,” the colonel remarked, “it has been a success, and we can afford to laugh because it was so cleverly done. If it was indeed your son, he will in due time present himself here. Meantime we can afford to await his coming, for I put no faith in the belief that the Indians will run away.”
Colonel St. Leger changed his mind, however, the next day, for he had barely eaten breakfast before a messenger arrived announcing that during the night two bands of his allies, numbering over a hundred, had left the camp.
“That’s bad!” he muttered; “but I’ll send an officer to bring them back, and a little later will call the head men into consultation. Surely there cannot be very much alarm come from an idle rumor.”
An hour later he received another shock. A young brave appeared bringing a sealed note, addressed to himself. Tearing it open he read the few lines, noted the signature of General Burgoyne, with which he was familiar, and then demanded of the waiting Indian where he had got the missive. As best he could in broken English, the savage told the story. It was not plain to the officer, and he sent for Hiram Le Geyt to act as interpreter. Then the facts came out.
A chief, wounded at Oriskany, had, assisted by a white stranger with an iron cross, crawled into the encampment, but soon died from exposure and suffering. While preparing him for burial the message had been found on his body. When shown to the white man he knew nothing about it; but, after looking it over, said it was for the British commander, therefore he, the messenger, had brought it. The explanation involved so much of mystery that the colonel asked:
“Is this white man still in the encampment?”
“He was when I left it,” was the reply.
“Bring him here,” was the command, and it was a stupid mistake on the part of the officer. Had he sent an orderly, the latter would doubtless have found and brought in the strange visitor. As it was, the warrior, when he found Ira, was easily persuaded that the lad could go to the commander alone, and he did not do so.
Meanwhile the colonel and his friend discussed the genuineness of the message. The former, perhaps because its contents gave him a chance to withdraw gracefully from an unpleasant situation, was firm in the belief that his chief had sent the letter. Hiram Le Geyt felt positive the note was a skilful forgery, designed by the rebels to frighten the officer into an abandonment of the siege.
“It is absurd to think the general would send you such a message except through the regular channel, an accredited courier,” the Tory declared.