University of Virginia Library

3. CHAPTER III.
THE ESCAPE.

The little company were soon assembled, and set out together
for their temporary fortress. The strictest silence
was enjoined, it being impossible to tell how near the enemy
might be, or where his advanced scouts would be met.
This precaution did not prove superfluous, for they were
yet a third of a mile distant from Lee's, when they received
convincing proof of their danger. The silence was suddenly
broken by a tremendous war-whoop; shouts and
shots echoed through the air, and soon the kindling light
of a deserted farm-house revealed the exulting foe, flitting
like fiends around the tenement from which they expected
soon to see their victims issue.

Appalled at this dreadful spectacle, the little party
paused and remained for a while breathless spectators of
the scene. The relative positions of the fugitives, the foe,
and the fort, (for as such we must designate the dwelling
of Lee,) were about as the extremities of an equal sided
triangle to each other. The latter could not be gained
without emerging from the woods and crossing a considerable
space of cleared land, which was an undertaking too
hazardous to be contemplated. Resuming their route,
therefore, with the greatest precaution, they obtained the
nearest position to Lee's that the cover of the forest would
permit, hoping thence to pass unperceived across the intervening
space, which had now become diminished to about
thirty rods. But at this moment the enemy, after an impotent

howl of rage at finding the burning house unoccupied,
took up their march. With frantic gesticulations,
some bearing lighted firebrands, and others brandishing
their knives, they bent their course, as had been apprehended,
directly toward the fort. But perceiving some
signs of defence, they made a detour around the premises
in a course which threatened to bring them almost directly
to the concealed party.

To remain in the most perfect silence, was deemed safer
than any attempt at retreat before the quick eye and ear
of the savages. The available portion of Dudley's force,
consisting of seven armed men, obeying the whispered orders
of their leader, stood with presented arms, ready in
case of discovery to discharge a sudden volley upon the
enemy, and then, by virtue of the panic which such an assault
would create, either to cut their way through the foe
to the fort, or make a rapid retreat, as circumstances would
dictate. Dudley, by general consent, had been invested
with entire command. As the savages drew nearer, they
were perceived to be about sixty in number—including,
perhaps, ten or twelve whites, who, having adopted the
dress and habits of their confederates, may justly be considered
as entitled also to their appellation. With glistening
knives, with glaring brands, with exulting shouts, they
came nearer and nearer until their advance was scarcely a
dozen yards distant from the hidden encampment. Here
they suddenly paused and seemed to hold a consultation.
It was a moment of fearful suspense. Trembling children
cowered closer to their terrified parents, and with large
blue eyes upraised, faithfully obeyed the often repeated
signs of silence. The pause was but momentary; but at
the instant of renewing their march, one of the concealed
company unfortunately gave utterance to a slight ejaculation
of delight, which, catching the quick ear of the Indian

leader, produced a second halt. Pointing to the woods,
and assuming a listening attitude for a moment, he thus
communicated to his followers the nature of his suspicions.
A scout was immediately detached to examine the suspected
cover; but watchful eyes and active hands awaited his approach.
He directed his course at once to the encampment,
but with such rapid and incautious steps that, before
perceiving the ambush, he was at the side of Dudley, who
had advanced a step to meet him. The expressive “Huh!”
rose faintly to his lips as the firm grasp of the youth encircled
his throat, while the silent knife completed the task,
and the dying Indian was upheld, lest his fall should be
heard. The savages, after the delay of a minute or two,
hearing no alarm, slowly resumed their course, not doubting
that their emissary would soon overtake them. They
pursued their circuitous way about the house of Lee, evidently
calculating their safest plan of attack. Nothing can
be more cowardly than this mode of Indian warfare, in
which the assailants scarcely consider themselves victorious
unless they succeed without losing a single warrior. As
they approached the opposite side of the circle, the time
had evidently arrived when, if at all, the fugitives were to
emerge from their concealment, and make a rush for the
fort. To remain longer in the forest, which the Indian
scouts would soon be traversing in every direction, would
be imminently perilous, and with many a word of encouragement,
Dudley put his little company in motion. Rapidly
advancing, they had safely crossed nearly half the
intervening distance, when a sudden commotion in the
ranks of the foe showed that they were perceived. A shout
and a rush, with such speed as Indians only can accomplish,
followed the discovery. The fugitives, it will be remembered,
were now about fifteen rods from the house, and the
savages twice that distance in nearly the opposite direction.
The race was exciting, but not long doubtful. The enemy
were still obliged to avoid too close a proximity to the
house, and Dudley, halting with his little band of infantry,
held them in check until the women and children were out
of danger, and then, still facing the foe, with presented
arms, they retreated into the fort. Not a shot was fired.