“Not without you; I will carry you on my back, whether you will or not,” and he laid his hand upon Morton to grasp hold of him. At that moment, the sound of the tramp of an approaching detachment of soldiers was heard. “It is the patrol, Hemlock; fly for God’s sake.”
Hemlock stepped to the door for an instant, then turning to Morton whispered, “they have torches and will see what I have done, and that will give the alarm. Come, go with me.”
“I cannot,” said Morton decisively.
“Then, give me a token to show her who sent me that I did my duty,” said Hemlock. Eager for his escape, Morton plucked the signet-ring from his finger and pressed it into the Indian’s hand with a farewell grasp. Noiselessly and swiftly Hemlock glided out, across the open, and was lost to sight. Seeing how near the patrol were, Morton closed the door and lay down upon his bed of straw. He heard the tramp of the troops draw nearer, and then a sharp cry of “Halt!” followed by a shout of horror and a volley of curses. “The damned Indians are about!” a voice cried. “Poor Tom,” said another, “he died like a stuck pig.” “See to the Britisher,” shouted a third, “he must know of it.” “Back to your ranks,” commanded the officer, “I will see to what is to be done.” Sending a messenger to headquarters to report, he detailed three others to approach the stable and bring out Morton. One of the three remonstrated. “The redskin may be hiding there and kill us.” “Obey orders,” yelled the officer to his men, who had peculiar ideas of military obedience. “Our muskets cover you.”
Reluctantly they approached, and two simultaneously burst in the door with a rush, while the third held a torch. Their only discovery was Morton lying in his bed. He was roughly dragged to the captain, who, with his men, stood around something stretched upon the grass.
“What do you know of this, prisoner?” asked the captain, and a soldier waved a torch over the object. Morton, with a shudder, perceived it was the body of a soldier that had been stabbed in the breast, and scalped.
“This body is warm,” said the captain, “the deed has been done within a quarter of an hour: you lay within 20 yards of its perpetration; I demand what you know of the slaughter of this sentry of the United States army.”
Morton hesitated. He had no moral doubt that Hemlock had committed the deed, and that the scalp of the dead man was then dangling from his belt, and in his horror of the act was about to tell all, when he suddenly recollected that by doing so he would show himself ungrateful to Hemlock.
“I neither saw nor heard aught of this foul murder,” answered Morton, but his hesitation in replying was noted by men disposed to suspect him. “Let me put my bayonet through him,” said one of the soldiers with an oath, as he rushed upon Morton. There was a flash from the adjoining bush, the crack of a rifle, and the soldier fell dead, with a bullet in his forehead.