Henry's nerves, attuned so long
to great effort, slowly relaxed. Deep peace came over him, and
his eyelids drooped, the sounds in the camp sank to the lowest
murmur, but just as he was falling asleep there came from the
battlefield behind then the far, faint howl of a wolf, the dirge
of the Iroquois.
CHAPTER XXII
LITTLE BEARD'S TOWN
The trumpets called early the next morning, and the five rose,
refreshed, ready for new labors. The fires were already lighted,
and breakfast was cooking. Savory odors permeated the forest.
But as soon as all had eaten, the army marched, going northward
and westward, intending to cut through the very center of the
Iroquois country. Orders had come from the great commander that
the power of the Six Nations, which had been so long such a
terrible scourge on the American frontier, must be annihilated.
They must be made strangers in their own country. Women and
children were not to be molested, but their towns must perish.
As Thayendanegea had said the night before the Battle of the
Chemung, the power beyond the seas that had urged the Iroquois to
war on the border did not save them. It could not. British and
Tories alike had promised them certain victory, and for a while
it had seemed that the promises would come true.
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