happens. The Iroquois
are a powerful confederacy. They've ruled in these woods for hundreds
of years. They're led by great chiefs, and they're helped by our white
enemies. You can't tell what would happen even to an army like ours in
an ambush."

Shif'less Sol nodded, and they said no more until an hour later, when
they heard footsteps. They awakened the others, and the twelve, crawling
to the edge of the brushwood, lay almost flat upon their faces, with
their hands upon the triggers of their rifles.

Braxton Wyatt and his band of nearly threescore, Indians and Tories in
about equal numbers, were passing. Wyatt walked at the head. Despite his
youth, he had acquired an air of command, and he seemed a fit leader
for such a crew. He wore a faded royal uniform, and, while a small sword
hung at his side, he also carried a rifle on his shoulder. Close behind
him was the swart and squat Tory, Coleman, and then came Indians and
Tories together.

The watchful eyes of Henry saw three fresh scalps hanging from as many
belts, and the finger that lay upon the trigger of his rifle fairly
ached to press it. What an opportunity this would be if the twelve were
only forty, or even thirty! With the advantage of surprise they might
hope to annihilate this band which had won such hate for itself on the
border. But twelve were not enough and twelve such lives could not be
spared at a time when the army needed them most.

Henry pressed his teeth firmly together in order to keep down his
disappointment by a mere physical act if possible. He happened to look
at Shif'less Sol, and saw that his teeth were pressed together in the
same manner. It is probable that like feelings swayed every one of the
twelve, but they were so still in the brushwood that no Iroquois heard
grass or leaf rustle. Thus the twelve watched the sixty pass, and
after they were gone, Henry, Shif'less Sol, and Tim Murphy followed for
several miles. They saw Wyatt proceed toward the Chemung River, and as
they approached the stream they beheld signs of fortifications. It was
now nearly daylight, and, as Indians were everywhere, they turned back.
But they were convinced that the enemy meant to fight on the Chemung.

CHAPTER XX. A GLOOMY COUNCIL

The next night after Henry Ware and his comrades lay in the brushwood
and saw Braxton Wyatt and his band pass, a number of men, famous or
infamous in their day, were gathered around a low camp fire on the crest
of a small