Nor were their white allies one whit behind
them. They bore a full part in the merciless war upon the
conquered. Timmendiquas, the great Wyandot, was the only one to
show nobility. Several of the wounded he saved from immediate
death, and he tried to hold back the frenzied swarm of old squaws
who rushed forward and began to practice cruelties at which even
the most veteran warrior might shudder. But Queen Esther urged
them on, and "Indian" Butler himself and the chiefs were afraid
of her.
Henry, despite himself, despite all his experience and powers of
self-control, shuddered from head to foot at the cries that came
from the lost field, and he was sure that the others were doing
the same. The sun was setting, but its dying light, brilliant
and intense, tinged the field as if with blood, showing all the
yelling horde as the warriors rushed about for scalps, or danced
in triumph, whirling their hideous trophies about their heads.
Others were firing at men who were escaping to the far bank of
the Susquehanna, and others were already seeking the fugitives in
their vain hiding places on the little islet.
The five moved farther into the forest, retreating slowly, and
sending in a shot now and then to protect the retreat of some
fugitive who was seeking the shelter of the woods.
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