“What reasons bring you within the precincts of this camp?” asked the Tory chieftain, as he bent upon his visitor a cool, calculating gaze, as though he would read his innermost, thoughts.
The Indian gave an explanation of his actions in a brief and apparently satisfactory manner, for at its conclusion Iron Hand exclaimed:
“Ah, I understand! you seek to become one of us in order that you may find an occasion to revenge yourself?”
The Indian bowed in response.
“Then you have not sought in vain,” he continued; “for we are about to attack a party of these rebels this very night, and there you will have an ample opportunity to glut your vengeance. You may report yourself to my lieutenant, who will appoint you your station.”
As the Indian was about to depart, the Tory chief arose quickly and approached him. Laying his hand on his shoulder, he whispered:
“The reward is, for those who perform their duty faithfully and do not neglect the interest of the band—pillage, plunder, and wealth; but for a traitor—death!”
With this warning injunction, the newly-enrolled member withdrew to prepare himself to take part in the coming melée .
The different members of the band were in a state of bustle and confusion, making preparations for the expected encounter. This new enterprise was originated, not with the usual design of pillaging, but for the purpose of attacking a small party of the enemy that were encamped midway between the rendezvous of the League and the American lines, and whom, on account of their proximity, it was deemed expedient to remove, as the retreat of the band was liable at any moment to be discovered by them.
At midnight they set out, and stealthily made their way through the forest to the appointed place of attack. Their foe, lulled into a feeling of security against attack, and little dreaming of the presence of their deadly opponents, were slumbering calmly.