"The whole place is afire," said I. "A dozen green-coats, blue-eyed Indians, and two real ones, burnt Fish House and attacked us at Summer House. I saw and knew Jock Campbell, Henry Hare, Billy Newberry, Barney Cane, Eli Beacraft, and George Cuck. My Saguenay mortally wounded Jock. He's lying on the road. He tomahawked a Canienga, too, and took his scalp and another's."
"Did you mark any of the dirty crew?" demanded Nick.
"I shot Beacraft and one Mohawk. How many are we at the Block House?"
"A full company to hold it safe," said he, gloomily. "Do you know that Fonda's Bush is burning?"
"Yes."
After a silence I said: "Who commands here? I think we ought to move toward Johnstown this night. I don't know how many green-coats have come to the Sacandaga, but it must have been another detachment that is burning Fonda's Bush."
As I spoke a Continental Captain followed by a Lieutenant came up in the torch-light; and I gave him his salute and rendered an account of what had happened on the Drowned Lands.
He seemed deeply disturbed but told me he had orders to defend the Mayfield Fort. He added, however, that if I must report at Johnstown he would give me a squad of musket-men as escort thither.
"Yes, sir," said I, "my report should not be delayed. But I have Nick Stoner and an Indian, and apprehend no danger. So if I may beg a dish of porridge for my little company, and dry my clothing by your block-house fire-place, I shall set out within the hour."
He was very civil,—a tall, haggard, careworn man, whose wife and children lived at Torloch, and their undefended situation caused him deep anxiety.