The Hidden Children

by Robert W. Chambers

His scout of four, he admitted, had made a bad job of the swamp trail—and his muddy and disordered dress corroborated this. But the news he brought was interesting.

He had not seen Boyd. The Battle of the Chemung had ended in a disorderly rout of Butler's army, partly because we had outflanked their works, partly because Butler's Indians could not be held to face our artillery fire, though Brant displayed great bravery in rallying them. We had lost few men and fewer officers; grain-fields, hay-stacks, and Indian towns were afire everywhere along our line of march.

Detachments followed every water-course, to wipe out the lesser towns, gardens, orchards, and harvest fields on either flank, and gather up the last stray head of the enemy's cattle. The whole Iroquois Empire was now kindling into flames and the track our army left behind it was a blackened desolation, as horrible to those who wrought it as to the wretched and homeless fugitives who had once inhabited it.

He added to me in a lower voice, glancing at my Indians with the ineradicable distrust of the average woodsman, that our advanced guard had discovered white captives in several of the Indian towns—in one a young mother with a child at her breast. She, her husband, and five children had been taken at Wyoming. The Indians and Tories had murdered all save her and her baby. Her name was Mrs. Lester.

In one town, he said, they found a pretty little white child, terribly emaciated, sitting on the grass and playing with a chicken. It could speak only the Iroquois language. Doubtless its mother had been murdered long since. So starved was the little thing that had our officers not restrained it the child might have killed itself by too much eating.

Also, they found a white prisoner—a man taken at Wyoming, one Luke Sweatland; and it was said in the army that another young white girl had been found in company with her little brother, both painted like Indians, and that still another white child was discovered, which Captain Machin had instantly adopted for his own.

The Corporal further said that our army was proceeding slowly, much time being consumed in laying the axe to the plum, peach, and apple orchards; and that it was a sad sight to see the heavily fruited trees fall over, crushing the ripe fruit into the mud.

He thought that the advanced guard of our army might be up by evening to burn Catharines-town, but was not certain. Then he asked permission to go back and rejoin the scout which he commanded; which permission I gave, though it was not necessary; and away he went, running like a young deer that has lagged from the herd—a tall, fine, wholesome young fellow, and as sturdy and active as any I ever saw in rifle-dress and ruffles.

My Indians lay down on their bellies, stretching themselves out in the sun across the logs, and, save for the subdued but fierce glimmer under their lazy lids, they seemed as pleasant and harmless as four tawny pumas a-sunning on the rocks.

As for me, I wandered restlessly along the brook, as far as the bridge, and, seating myself here, fished out writing materials and my journal from my pouch, and filled in the events of the preceding days as briefly and exactly as I knew how. Also I made a map of Catharines-town and of Yndaia from memory, resolving to correct it later when Mr. Lodge and his surveyors came up, if opportunity permitted.