of all the chiefs, shook his tomahawk, and a murmur passed
through the group of Indians.

Braxton Wyatt still talked in whispers to his new friend, Coleman,
the Tory, who was more to his liking than the morose and savage Walter
Butler, whom he somewhat feared. Wyatt was perhaps the least troubled
of all those present. Caring for himself only, the burning of Oghwaga
caused him no grief. He suffered neither from the misfortune of friend
nor foe. He was able to contemplate the glowing tower of light with
curiosity only. Braxton Wyatt knew that the Iroquois and their allies
would attempt revenge for the burning of Oghwaga, and he saw profit for
himself in such adventures. His horizon had broadened somewhat of late.
The renegade, Blackstaffe, had returned to rejoin Simon Girty, but he
had found a new friend in Coleman. He was coming now more into touch
with the larger forces in the East, nearer to the seat of the great war,
and he hoped to profit by it.

"This is a terrible blow to Brant," Coleman whispered to him. "The
Iroquois have been able to ravage the whole frontier, while the rebels,
occupied with the king's troops, have not been able to send help to
their own. But they have managed to strike at last, as you see."

"I do see," said Wyatt, "and on the whole, Coleman, I'm not sorry.
Perhaps these chiefs won't be so haughty now, and they'll soon realize
that they need likely chaps such as you and me, eh, Coleman."

"You're not far from the truth," said Coleman, laughing a little, and
pleased at the penetration of his new friend. They did not talk further,
although the agreement between them was well established. Neither did
the Indian chiefs or the Tory leaders say any more. They watched the
tower of fire a long time, past midnight, until it reached its zenith
and then began to sink. They saw its crest go down behind the trees,
and they saw the luminous cloud in the south fade and go out entirely,
leaving there only the darkness that reined everywhere else.

Then the Indian and Tory leaders rose and silently marched northward. It
was nearly dawn when Henry and his comrades lay down for the rest that
they needed badly. They spread their blankets at the edge of the open,
but well back from the burned area, which was now one great mass of
coals and charred timbers, sending up little flame but much smoke. Many
of the troops were already asleep, but Henry, before lying down, begged
William Gray to keep a strict watch lest