utter the cries and they must possess a boat, a
supposition that chimed in well with the warning to him to watch the
river. Reflection only deepened his conviction, and he resolved if
possible to avoid the anger of de Peyster, as to be shut up again might
ruin everything. He felt that the time to act, although he did not know
just how and where, was coming soon.
A strong watch was set about both fort and village in order to trap the
four the following night, when they came to deliver Private Myers. Both
Girty and Blackstaffe told Colonel de Peyster that the forest runners
would keep their promise, and the commander was exceedingly anxious to
take the impudent rovers who had annoyed him so much. Henry heard
something of it from Holderness and, for a moment, he felt apprehension,
but he recalled all the skill and craft of his comrades. They would
never walk into a trap.
The night turned quite dark with fleeting showers of rain. There was no
moon and the stars were hidden. But about two hours before daylight
there was a great outcry, and the sentinels, running to the spot, found
a white man blindfolded and hands bound, tied in a thicket of briers. It
was Private Myers, and his tale was practically the same as that of
Private Doran. He had been led in the night, he knew not whither. Then,
one of his captors, which one he could not say, as he was blindfolded,
gave him a little push and he neither saw nor heard them any more. He
had tried to come in the direction in which he thought Detroit lay, but
he had become tangled among the briers, and then he had shouted at the
top of his voice.
Colonel de Peyster was deeply disgusted. He addressed stern reproofs to
the wretched private, who was not to blame, and bade him join his
comrade in disgrace. The best Indian trackers were sent to seek the
trail of the forest runners, which they found and followed only to end
against the wide and deep river. The Indian trailers concurred in
Henry's belief that the four had secured a boat, and they felt that it
was useless to search on the other side.
Henry heard of it all very early, and that day during his hours of
liberty in the court he kept a close watch on the river, but nothing
occurred. Evidently the hour had not come for his friends to make
whatever attempt they had in mind. He was convinced of it when from the
palisade he saw that de Peyster had instituted a patrol on the river.
Several Indian canoes, containing warriors, were
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