So Colonel Denison at once opened negotiations with the leaders of the enemy, and after hours of suspense and discussion it was decided to surrender the fort on condition that the lives of the survivors should be spared. The articles of capitulation were signed, and on the afternoon of the 5th a sad and bitter ceremony took place on the bluff of the Susquehanna. The gates of Forty Fort were thrown open, the flag was hauled down, and to the music of drums and fifes the enemy marched in behind Colonel John Butler—company after company of Rangers and Tories, Captain Caldwell's Royal Greens, and the sullen, painted-faced Indians headed by two human fiends—Brandt and Queen Esther.
Colonel Butler prevented any immediate bloodshed, but the settlers were ruthlessly plundered as they filed out. Knowing their danger too well they fled in all directions, some toward the Delaware, others down the Susquehanna by water and land.
The Senecas and Tories shortly laid waste the valley, destroying what they could not take away, burning the town of Wilkesbarre and many cabins, and driving the horses and cattle to Niagara. The relief force that had started from Washington's army turned back when the news of the massacre reached them at Stroudsburg, and for a time the lovely Vale of Wyoming was abandoned to ruin and solitude.
[CHAPTER X]
IN WHICH NATHAN FINDS THE PAPERS
Among the last to leave Forty Fort after its surrender was Barnabas Otter. In the dusk of the evening he slipped through the gate with others, and made his way, unobserved, to a large rock several hundred yards back from the river. He was joined almost immediately by Nathan, and presently Reuben Atwood and Collum McNicol arrived at the same spot. The two latter knew all about Captain Stanbury's papers, and were to assist in getting them. The little party had previously arranged to meet here secretly for this purpose, and they hoped to complete their task and push some miles down the Susquehanna that same night.
"All here, are ye?" said Collum McNicol, who was the last to arrive. "Let's make haste and have done with the business. My heart is sore after what I've seen yonder this afternoon—"
"Peace, man," interrupted Barnabas. "The less said the better. We're all sore at heart, I'm thinking—aye, an' something more. I feel myself like a panther stripped of her cubs. Don't put fire to our passions, or we'll be tempted to some desperate deed."
"It ain't likely, with not a fire-arm among us," said Atwood. "There's no chance of a shot at Tory or redskin. We must bide our time for vengeance till we're back with the army."