(To the men.) We've hot work coming, boys. Our good friend here
Has walked from Queenston, through the woods, this day,
To warn me that a sortie from Fort George
Is sent to take this post, and starts e'en now.
You, Cummings, mount—you know the way—and ride
With all your might, to tell De Haren this;
He lies at Twelve-Mile Creek with larger force
Than mine, and will move up to my support:
He'll see my handful cannot keep at bay
Five hundred men, or fight in open field.
But what strength can't accomplish cunning must—
I'll have to circumvent them.
[Exit CUMMINGS.
(To Mishe-mo-qua.) And you, chief,
What will you do? You've stood by me so long,
So faithfully, I count upon you now.
Mishe-mo-qua. White chief say true: we good King George's men.
My warriors yell! hide! shoot! hot bullet fly
Like dart of Annee-meekee.
We keep dam Long-Knife back. I go just now.
Fitzgibbon (handing the chief a twist of tobacco, which he puts into his girdle with a grunt of satisfaction). A Mohawk is my friend, and you are one.
[FITZGIBBON shakes hands with the Chief, who retires well pleased.
(To Mrs. Secord.) Madam, how may I serve you to secure
Your safety? Refreshment comes; but here
Is no protection in our present strait.
Mrs. Secord. I thank you, sir, but will not tax you more
Than some refreshment. I have friends beyond
A mile or two, with whom I'll stay to-night.
Fitzgibbon. I'll spare an escort; Mr. Jarvis here will—
[MRS. SECORD faints.