"She's safe, I warrant," cried Murphy, as I rode off; "Sir John's divils was gone off two hours whin we seen her safe and sound on the long hill!"
I galloped over the shattered fence which was still afire where the charred rails lay in the grass.
As I spurred up the bank opposite, I caught sight of a mounted officer on the stony Johnstown road, advancing at a trot, and behind him a mass of sweating militia jogging doggedly down hill in a rattle of pebbles and dust.
When the mounted officer saw me he shouted through the dust-cloud that Sir John had been at the Hall, seized his plate and papers, and a lot of prisoners, and had murdered innocent people in Johnstown streets.
Tim Murphy and his comrade, Elerson, also came up, calling out to the Johnstown men that they had come from Schoharie, and that both militia and Continentals were marching to the Valley.
There was some cheering. I pushed my horse impatiently through the crowd and up the hill. But a little way farther on the road was choked with troops arriving on a run; and they had brought cohorns and their ammunition waggon, and God knows what!—alas! too late to oppose or punish the blood-drenched demons who had turned the Caughnawaga Valley to a smoking hell.
Now, my horse was involved with all these excited people, and I, exasperated, thought I never should get clear of the soldiery and cohorns, but at length pushed a way through to the woods on my right, and spurred my mare into them and among the larger elms and pines where sheep had pastured, and there was less brush.
I could not see the great pine now, but thought I had marked it down; and so bore again to the right, where through the woods I could see a glimmer of sun along cleared land.
It was rocky; my horse slipped and I was obliged to walk him upward among stony places, where moss grew green and deep.
And now, through a fringe of saplings, I caught a glimpse of the two elms and the tall pine between.