ere to the mercies of the victors.

When Shif'less Sol learned that the fort was to be given up, he said:

"It looks ez ef we had escaped from the Iroquois jest in time to beg 'em
to take us back."

"I reckon I ain't goin' to stay 'roun' here while things are bein'
surrendered," said Long Jim Hart.

"I'll do my surrenderin' to Iroquois when they've got my hands an' feet
tied, an' six or seven uv 'em are settin' on my back," said Tom Ross.

"We'll leave as soon as we can get arms for Sol and Paul," said Henry.
"Of course it would be foolish of us to stay here and be captured again.
Besides, we'll be needed badly enough by the women and children that are
going."

Good weapons were easily obtained in the fort. It was far better to let
Sol and Paul have them than to leave them for the Indians. They were
able to select two fine rifles of the Kentucky pattern, long and
slender barreled, a tomahawk and knife for each, and also excellent
double-barreled pistols. The other three now had double-barreled
pistols, too. In addition they resupplied themselves with as much
ammunition as scouts and hunters could conveniently carry, and toward
morning left the fort.

Sunrise found them some distance from the palisades, and upon the flank
of a frightened crowd of fugitives. It was composed of one hundred women
and children and a single man, James Carpenter, who was doing his best
to guide and protect them. They were intending to flee through the
wilderness to the Delaware and Lehigh settlements, chiefly Fort Penn,
built by Jacob Stroud, where Stroudsburg now is.

When the five, darkened by weather and looking almost like Indians
themselves, approached, Carpenter stepped forward and raised his rifle.
A cry of dismay rose from the melancholy line, a cry so intensely bitter
that it cut Henry to the very heart. He threw up his hand, and exclaimed
in a loud voice:

"We are friends, not Indians or Tories! We fought with you yesterday,
and we are ready to fight for you now!"

Carpenter dropped the muzzle of the rifle. He had fought in the battle,
too, and he recognized the great youth and his comrades who had been
there with him.

"What do you want of us?" asked he.

"Nothing," replied Henry, "except to help you."

Carpenter looked at them with a kind of sad pathos.

"You don't belong here in Wyoming," he said, "and there's nothing to
make you stick to us. What are you meaning to do?"

"We will go with you wherever you intend