On the afternoon of our second day out from Schoharie, while we were still beating up the bush of the Cherry Valley district, I left my Indians and went alone down into the pretty settlement in quest of information and also to renew our scanty stock of provisions. I found the lovely place almost deserted, save for a few old men of the exempts working on a sort of fort around Colonel Clyde's house, and a few women and children who had not yet gone off to Schenectady or Albany.
I stopped at the house of the Wells family. John Wells, the father of my friend Bob, had been one of the Judges of the Tryon County courts, sitting on the bench with old John Butler, who now was invading us, with Sir John, in arms.
Bob was away on military duty, but there were in the house his mother, his wife, his four little children, his brother Jack, and Janet, his engaging sister whom I had admired so often at the Hall, and who was beloved like a daughter by Sir William.
I shall never forget the amazement of these delightful and kindly people when I appeared at their door in Cherry Valley, nor their affectionate hospitality when they learned my purpose and my errand.
A sack of provisions was immediately provided me; their kindness and courtesy seemed inexhaustible, although even now the shadow of terror lay over Cherry Valley. Their young men under Colonels Clyde and Campbell had gone to join Herkimer; they were utterly destitute of defense against McDonald or Sir John if Schoharie were invaded, or if Stanwix fell, or if Herkimer gave way before St. Leger.
They asked news of me very calmly, and I told them all I had learned and something of the sinister rumours which now were current in the Mohawk and Schoharie Valleys.
They, in their turn, knew nothing positive of Sir John, but had heard that he was marching on Stanwix with St. Leger and Brant, and that a thousand savages were with them.
My sojourn at the Wells house was brief; the family was evidently very anxious but not gloomy; even the children smiled courageously when I made my adieux; and my dear little friend, Janet, led me by the hand to the edge of the brush-field, through which I must travel to regain the forest, and kissed me at our parting.
On the wood's edge, I paused and looked back at the place called Cherry Valley, lying so peacefully in the sunshine, where in the fields grain already was turning golden green; and fat cattle grazed their pastures; and wisps of smoke drifted from every chimney.