The Black Rifle and three of his men went in one direction; Harry Sumerford, Ned Armstrong, and Cal Holdness, in another; and Israel Blanchard, McClure, and Holdness, in still another,—in order to lurk around the Indian villages and camping-places, to find where he was held captive, that they might attempt either rescue or ransom.
But all their efforts were fruitless: because, as was afterwards known, the party who had captured Honey wood, finding their town attacked by so large a force, fled with their prisoner across the Alleghany and into the territories of the Six Nations, where only, after the first alarm created by Armstrong's attack, they could feel secure.
It was a gloomy period at the Run, when one party after another would come in without tidings.
"If," said Mrs. Sumerford, "the Almighty ever did hear prayer for any thing or any body, and I know he has and does, he will for this good man: he'll never let those savages torture their best friend."
"He permitted the Jews to torture the Saviour, their best friend," replied Mrs. Honeywood. "We have no right to say what God in his wisdom will or will not permit; but, if the Indians tie him to the stake, I believe he will enable him to bear it, and will support me likewise."
"The church," said Mrs. Sumerford, "prayed for Peter, and the Lord sent his angel: perhaps he will hear our prayers for him."
These good women then resolved they would meet every afternoon in the schoolhouse, and pray.