“You speak for us all there, Sol,” said Paul.
“What have all of you been doing?” asked Henry.
“Not much of anything,” replied Shif'less Sol. “We've been scoutin' several times, lookin' fur you, though we knowed you'd come in some time or other, but mostly we've been workin' 'roun' the place here, fixin' it up warmer an' storin' away food.”
“We'll have to continue at that for some time, I'm afraid,” said Henry, “unless this snow breaks up. Have any of you heard if any movement is yet on foot against the Iroquois?”
“Tom ran across some scouts from the militia,” replied Paul, “and they said nothing could be done until warm weather came. Then a real army would march.”
“I hope so,” said Henry earnestly.
But for the present the five could achieve little. The snow lasted a long time, but it was finally swept away by big rains. It poured for two days and nights, and even when the rain ceased the snow continued to melt under the warmer air. The water rushed in great torrents down the cliffs, and would have entered “The Alcove” had not the five made provision to turn it away. As it was, they sat snug and dry, listening to the gush of the water, the sign of falling snow, and the talk of one another. Yet the time dragged.
“Man wuz never made to be a caged animile,” said Shif'less Sol. “The longer I stay shet up in one place, the weaker I become. My temper don't improve, neither, an' I ain't happy.”
“Guess it's the same with all uv us,” said Tom Ross.
But when the earth came from beneath the snow, although it was still cold weather, they began again to range the forest far in every direction, and they found that the Indians, and the Tories also, were becoming active. There were more burnings, more slaughters, and more scalpings. The whole border was still appalled at the massacres of Wyoming and Cherry Valley, and the savages were continually spreading over a wider area. Braxton Wyatt at the head of his band, and with the aid of his Tory lieutenant, Levi Coleman, had made for himself a name equal to that of Walter Butler. As for “Indian” Butler and his men, no men were hated more thoroughly than they.