les away. No matter how many defeats we may
suffer, we shall win in the end."

De Peyster frowned.

"You do not know the strength of Britain," he said, "nor do you know the
power of the warriors. You say that you were at Wyoming. Well, you have
seen what we could do."

Girty broke into a sneering laugh at Henry and then seconded the words
of his chief.

"All we want is union and organization," he said. "Soon our own troops
and the red warriors will form one army along the whole line of the war.
The rebel cause is already sinking in the East, and in another year the
King will be triumphant everywhere."

Girty was a crafty man, something of a forest statesman. He had given
the Indians much help on many occasions and they usually deferred to
him. Now he turned to them.

"When Colonel Bird achieves his victories south of the Ohio, as he is
sure to do," he said, "and when Timmendiquas and his great force marches
to destroy all that is left, then you, O chiefs, will have back your
hunting grounds for your villages and your people. The deer and the
buffalo will be as numerous as ever. Fire will destroy the houses and
the forests will grow where they have been. Their cornfields will
disappear, and not a single one of the Yengees will be found in your
great forests beyond the Beautiful River."

The nostrils of the chiefs dilated. A savage fire, the desire for
scalps, began to sparkle in the dark eyes of the wilderness children. At
this crucial moment of excitement Colonel de Peyster caused cups to be
brought and wine to be passed. All drank, except Henry and the great
chief, the White Lightning of the Wyandots. De Peyster himself felt the
effect of the strong liquor, and Girty and Wyatt did not seek to hide
it.

"There is fire in your veins, my children," exclaimed de Peyster. "You
will fight for the King. You will clear the woods of the rebels, and he
will send you great rewards. As a proof of what he will do he gives you
many presents now."

He made a signal and the soldiers began to bring in gifts for the
chiefs, gifts that seemed to them beautiful and of great value. There
were silver-mounted rifles for Timmendiquas, Red Eagle, Yellow Panther,
and also for another Shawnee chief of uncommon ferocity, Moluntha. Their
eyes sparkled as they received them, and all uttered thanks except
Timmendiquas, who still did not say a word. Then came knives, hatchets,
blankets--always of bright colors--beads and many little mirro