“Choose your best horse,” said Brant; “we must take to the forest at once, for there we have friends.”
They followed him into the hall, through the open door of which were visible their horses, ready for a start.
“Stop!” exclaimed Brant, “I must leave a sign behind.”
He mounted the stairs, and brandishing his tomahawk, began making deep gashes in the balustrade at a distance of about a foot apart.
“What the deuce are you doing?” exclaimed the men, in astonishment.
The renegade made no reply, but continued his work to the top of the staircase.
“The house is safe now,” he said, as he came down again. “Should it be attacked by the Indians during your absence, they will leave it uninjured.”
“You leave a stern mark, Colonel,” said Butler, glancing up at the hacked wood.
“That Brant always does—he will leave a more lasting one, though, on these rebels before long.”
The party hurried into the open air and mounted their horses, but before they could gallop away, Pompey rushed out and grasped his master’s bridle.