"Push on—push on, for God's sake, gentlemen and comrades!"
"Forward, my friends—let us lose no time in reaching Fort Edward."
"Step out, comrades—step out, you fellows in front."
"Throw off your knapsacks—let these greedy hounds have them."
"Better lose an old kit than a young life."
"On, on—push on, boys!"
Such were the cries that were heard along the column as the rear urged on the front, and the dark yelling hordes of the infernal Iroquois blackened all the woods and grew denser and closer, until at last they insolently jostled and crushed the French guard among the impeded ranks of those they were escorting.
"This is intolerable—let us attack those dogs," said MacGillivray.
"Beware—beware!" exclaimed Munro; "if once blood be shed or the warwhoop raised, all will be over with us."
The leader of this hostile display was the savage whom we have already introduced as Ossong. A Lenni Lennape, he was almost the last of his ferocious tribe, which, with the Miami, had been conquered and exterminated by the Iroquois, with whom he had now completely identified himself. His aspect was frightful! His forehead was low; with a short nose of great breadth; his ears were huge, and set high upon his head; his mouth was large, with teeth sharp and serrated like those of some voracious fish. His mantle of woven grass was trimmed with scores of human scalp-locks salted and dried, while rows of human teeth intermingled with glass beads and gilt regimental buttons and British coins (the relics of Colonel Parker's force) covered all his brown expansive chest. On his brawny shoulders hung the skin of a black bear; in front, he wore the fur of a racoon; his girdle, moccassins, and arms were ornamented with brilliant wampum beads, which rattled as he walked, and he brandished alternately a rifle, a tomahawk, and scalping-knife.