“But I don’t like the look in his eyes,” he had said; “the meeting with Charles, under present circumstances, has unhinged him terribly. It’s not the fighting, nor the wounds; it’s the moral shock. I don’t think he ever really realised the change before. You’ll see what you think of him when you come up to-night.”
Entering the kitchen, John Cleveland went straight up to Roger, and laying his hand on his shoulder said earnestly,—
“Thank God you’re home again! Your father and I have been in trouble about you, Roger. You’ve had a hard time of it, lad. But it’s well, perhaps, you should look things straight in the face; you know now for certain that he we loved so well is lost to us, unless God in His great goodness vouchsafes to bring him home. In the meantime you are our hope and stay, Roger. Your name is in every mouth throughout the towns and villages of New England, as the man most capable of defending us against the French and Indians. The vote has been given; you are to be elected Captain of the Rangers, because of your superior knowledge in woodcraft. Within the last few days the story of Old Britain’s massacre has spread terror everywhere. There are those who still remember the massacre of Haverhill, when their minister was beaten to death and the men, women, and children murdered in cold blood, upwards of forty years ago. I am a man of peace and I preach peace; but if the heathen assail us, we must arise and defend ourselves: we cannot see our wives and children massacred or led captives before our eyes. Therefore I say to you, Roger Boscowen, Arise and gird on your sword, for it is a righteous cause you are called upon to defend. All the young men of New England and along the border are prepared to obey you as their leader, and to aid you in the defence of our hearths and homes. Let not your heart faint within you,” he continued kindly, lowering his voice, “because he you loved has gone over to the enemy. Jonathan and David fought not in the same camp, yet they loved each other to the end. If you cannot tear out the brotherly affection which has grown with your growth and has been so sweet to you, make up your mind to sacrifice it at the call of duty.”
He ceased, and there was a moment’s silence; then Roger arose, and standing in the midst of them said,—
“You are right, Mr. Cleveland, and I thank you for putting into words the struggle which has been going on within me. But it is over. From henceforth he and I are strangers one to another.”
He paused, drew a long breath, and then, as if he had cast something far away from him, crossed over to where his father sat, and, taking the seat beside him, said,—
“Now, if you will let me, I will tell you all that has happened since I left home: it is a long and painful story.”
In a few minutes all those present had gathered round him. Martha laid her knitting down and folded her hands to listen. It was of her son, her firstborn, she was about to hear, and it seemed to her as if her heart were like to break.
When they were all settled Roger began. “I found upon reaching Oswega that trade was far from flourishing. The French are growing very aggressive, and are daily becoming better friends with the Indians; they are liberal with both presents and promises, whereas we are neither; indeed, the Indians accuse us of not keeping faith with them. I and a dozen other traders decided therefore to go and see what we could do with Old Britain and the Miamis. It was the end of May when we reached the village. Most of the Indians were away on their summer hunt; but Old Britain received us well, and persuaded us to remain till some of the tribe should return. Thinking this might prove advantageous, as they were sure to bring fresh skins with them, we agreed to do so. Everything went well for the first fortnight; then we heard rumours of raids farther up the country, and I saw Old Britain was anxious. Once or twice he sent men out as scouts; but they came back saying they had seen no enemy, that the land was quiet; so, though he took every precaution against being surprised, he was satisfied there was no immediate danger to fear. He was not made aware by any sign that on the night of June 20th the enemy slept quietly in the near forest. They had come down the lakes in a fleet of canoes, two hundred and fifty picked warriors of the Ottawa and Ogibwa tribes. Silently, as only Indians can march, they made their way through the forest. At daybreak we were aroused by the shrill cry we all know so well, and then they were upon us, spreading terror through the village. The rifle rang out, the cry of the dying arose. Old Britain and his Indians fought bravely; but of course from the first it was hopeless—numbers were against them. They were slain or taken prisoners every one of them: it was a hideous spectacle. We traders had taken refuge in the warehouse, where till five in the afternoon we defended ourselves against fearful odds. Early in the day I had seen and recognised their chief. No need for me to tell you who he was! Three of our men managed to get out, hoping to reach the forest and escape: they failed, and were massacred before our eyes. Then the Indians swarmed over the palisades into the warehouse, and we knew that our last hour had come; but foremost, trying to hold them in check, came their chief. When he saw me he sprang wildly forward, covering me with his own body. ‘For God’s sake surrender!’ he said. ‘Never!’ I answered, and fired over his head. An Indian fell; it was a signal for all the others to rush on. He turned upon me. I never shall forget the look in his face. I saw the glittering steel in his hand as he threw the whole weight of his body upon me and struck me down.
“When I recovered consciousness I found myself in a log hut in the middle of the forest, he standing over me bathing my head.