In the winter and spring the Iroquois and
Tories had destroyed the few remnants of houses that were left.
Braxton Wyatt and his band had been particularly active in this
work, and many tales had come of his cruelty and that of his
swart Tory lieutenant, Coleman. Henry was sure, too, that
Wyatt's band, which numbered perhaps fifty Indians and Tories,
was now in front of them.
He, his comrades, Heemskerk, Elerson, Murphy, and four others,
twelve brave forest runners all told, went into camp one night
about ten miles ahead of the army. They lighted no fire, and,
even had it been cold, they would not have done so, as the region
was far too dangerous for any light. Yet the little band felt no
fear. They were only twelve, it is true, but such a twelve! No
chance would either Indians or Tories have to surprise them.
They merely lay down in the thick brushwood, three intending to
keep watch while the others slept. Henry, Shif'less Sol, and
Heemskerk were the sentinels. It was very late, nearly midnight;
the sky was clear, and presently they saw smoke rings ascending
from high hills to their right, to be answered soon by other
rings of smoke to their left.
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