Now, indeed, were the Iroquois certain that the Spirit of Evil
was among them. When great chiefs like Timmendiquas and
Thayendanegea were deceived, how could a common warrior hope to
escape its wicked influence!
But Braxton Wyatt, with a sore and aching head, lay all day on a
bed of skins, and his friend, Moses Blackstaffe, could give him
no comfort.
The following night the camp was swept by a sudden and tremendous
storm of thunder and lightning, wind and rain. Many of the
lodges were thrown down, and when the storm finally whirled
itself away, it was found that the last of the prisoners, he of
the long arms and long legs, had gone on the edge of the blast.
Truly the Evil Spirit had been hovering over the Iroquois
village.
CHAPTER VII
CATHARINE MONTOUR
The five lay deep in the swamp, reunited once more, and full of
content. The great storm in which Long Jim, with the aid of his
comrades, had disappeared, was whirling off to the eastward. The
lightning was flaring its last on the distant horizon, but the
rain still pattered in the great woods.
It was a small hut, but the five could squeeze in it. They were
dry, warm, and well armed, and they had no fear of the storm and
the wilderness.
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