There was one odd thing I noted while turning away, sick at heart, which was that those friends of the deserters, the men whose voices had been raised highest against Colonel Gansevoort because he would not surrender the fort at St. Leger’s bidding, had no word to say now that their friends were in such dire distress, while those who had struggled to quell the mutiny were asking loudly if it were not possible to do something toward saving the lives of the unfortunate men.

Twenty or more of the bolder spirits, among whom was Sergeant Corney, were making ready to ask permission of the commandant to their creeping out of the fort on that side nearest the river, and then trying by a sudden dash to rescue the prisoners.

Even the slight experience which I had had in savage warfare was sufficient to show me that there was nothing which we could do in behalf of the wretched men, and any plan, however promising, could not fail of exposing the entire garrison to the keenest peril.

There could be no question but that the enemy hoped we might be so venturesome as to sally out, and I doubt if there was a man within the fortification who did not feel convinced that St. Leger’s troops were ready to swoop down in assault at the first show of our having sent away any portion of our force.

All knew that we inside the fortification were powerless to aid those who had wilfully gone to their doom, and none better than those same brave fellows who were ready to risk their lives in behalf of comrades who would have worked disaster to the entire garrison, yet they could not stand idle without at least a show of willingness to face danger in the hope of saving life.

The one lesson which all of us learned at this time was as to how much dependence might be placed upon the word of the British commander.  He had declared that he would protect all who came to him promising to serve the king, and yet, when the five foolish cowards from our garrison presented themselves, they were given over to the merciless savages, much as honest people give play-things to their children.

I had turned away from the scene sick with horror, even though the fiendish work had not yet begun; but as I stood near the barracks, trembling in every limb, the thought came that perhaps our deserters were not the ones for whom the stakes were intended.  Of course, it would be equally terrible to see any human being tortured to death; but at the moment it seemed as if the frightfulness of it would in some degree be lessened if it were strangers who suffered, and straightway I went back to the walls, taking station by the side of Jacob, as I strained my eyes to see who the Indians led out.

“Where is the sergeant?” I asked, in a whisper.

“Gone, in company with a dozen others, to ask permission of the commandant to leave the fort for a short time.”

“Do they want to compass their own death?” I asked, angrily.  “I dare venture to say every Tory in yonder encampment is ready to cut off any who, from motives of mercy and pity, venture beyond the walls.”

“Ay, so my father believes.  He says that Colonel Gansevoort cannot, in justice to the remainder of the force, allow such a sacrifice of life as would result from a sortie.”

“But we are not yet certain that it is our deserters who are to be put to death,” I suggested, and at the moment a hoarse cry went up from all that company of heart-sick spectators.

Accompanied by war-songs from the warriors and hoots and yells from the squaws and fiendish children, the unfortunate men were being brought across the river in triumph, and then a deep hush fell upon our garrison, as every person within the walls bent forward anxiously to get a glimpse of those who were being carried to the theatre of a terrible death.

The unfortunate prisoners were yet too far away for me to distinguish their features, when a soldier standing near by, a man whom I recognized as one of those who had howled most loudly for surrender, cried with a groan as of mortal agony: 

“There is Seth Morton!”

This was the name of one of the deserters, and there was no longer any hope but that the savages were ready to show us how our own people could die.

At this moment the party with whom Sergeant Corney had gone to the commandant for permission to attempt a rescue came up, and but one glance at their faces was needed to show that the request had been denied.

“He wouldn’t let you go?” I whispered, as the old man stood by my side.

“No, lad, an’ we should have had better sense than to ask him.  A commandant who would agree to sich a plan has no right to expect his troops can rely upon his showin’ good judgment in a tight fix.”

“What did he say?”

“He talked like a gentleman who speaks with his friends.  Instead of roarin’ out that we were all kinds of idjuts, as another commander might have done, he told us exactly what would be the result if any of us attempted to leave the fort, an’ wound up by sayin’ that if his own brother was in the hands of the red devils, he would not consider it doin’ justice by the garrison even to let one man venture forth.  He only told us the truth, an’ I’m not sorry I went to him, even though nothin’ came of it, for it ain’t cheerful to stand still without makin’ a little bit of a try while sich work as that yonder is goin’ on.”

When the prisoners had been taken across the stream the savages lost no time in setting about their terrible work, and, although so many years have elapsed since then, I cannot bring myself to set down that which I know was done.

While the poor fellows were being bound to the stakes, Jacob and I ran into the barracks, where we remained, trying to shut out from our ears the yells and whoops which told of what was going on.

“And I would have suffered the same bitter death but for what you did, dear lad!” I said, hardly able to control my voice.

“Don’t think of it, Noel,” he replied, soothingly, as he pressed my hand.  “An’, above everything, don’t give me the credit.  All our company had a part in that rescue.”

“Ay, yet they’d never known of our peril but for you, an’ it was you alone, when they were arrived, who braved the danger of coming across the encampment to the lodge.”

“Talk of somethin’ else, Noel Campbell!” Jacob cried, fiercely.  “Even though the colonel knows best what should be done, it seems cowardly for us to be sittin’ here in safety while those poor fellows are sufferin’ all that men can!”

I tried to do as he would have me; but one can readily understand that at such a time it would be well-nigh impossible to think of anything save that which was being done within sight of all the garrison.

It seemed to me like a very long time before the sergeant joined us, and then I knew that the unfortunate men were out of their misery at last.

“They have paid a fearful price for their folly,” the old man said, solemnly; “but by thus dyin’ they’ve ensured the holdin’ of this fort, for there’s not a man within the walls who wouldn’t delight in drawin’ his last breath at the post of duty rather than take the chances of sich protection as St. Leger has shown he’s ready to give.  We’ll have no more mutiny, an’ all hands will be starved to death before the enemy gets possession of the fortification.”

“What about the other three men?” Jacob asked, in a whisper, not daring to trust his voice lest it should betray the fear in his heart.

“I reckon their turn will come soon - perhaps to-morrow night.  Thayendanega’s ‘noble red men’ can’t afford to waste their victims.  But, hark ye, lads, it won’t do for you to moon over what is enough to turn any man’s blood to water.  Take a brisk walk up an’ down the parade-ground for half an hour, an’ then come to bed.  I’m thinkin’ we may have a bit of work cut out for us within the next four an’ twenty hours.”

“Of what kind?” I asked, not inclined to follow the old man’s advice so far as to venture out while the howling Indians were making night something of which to be afraid.

“It stands to reason that before the deserters were turned over to the painted wolves St. Leger got from them all the information concernin’ this fort which they could give.  The British general now knows that we haven’t any too much ammunition for the cannon, an’ it’ll be odd if he don’t give us a chance to spend a good bit more of it.”

This seemed a plausible line of reasoning, and yet I was not in the lightest degree troubled by the possibility; I had known so much of horror during the past few hours that an assault, however desperate, was something to be courted rather than feared.

Sergeant Corney smoked his pipe long and furiously that night as he sat in the barracks, giving no heed as to whether we followed his advice, and we two lads sat side by side with little inclination to indulge in conversation.

One by one our boys, pale-faced and trembling, entered the sleeping-quarters, some even going so far as to lie down, but positive am I that never an eye was closed in slumber during all that night, and every one of us welcomed the first rays of the rising sun as if years had passed since he last showed his face.

Before another six hours passed we had good proof that those who deserted gave all the information at their command to General St. Leger regarding the condition of affairs at the fort, and yet never a word was spoken against them, because of the frightful punishment which followed their treachery.

From what our party of Minute Boys had seen up to this time, the work of the siege was not pushed vigorously by the Britishers, and even the little which was done had been performed by the Tories.  It is true that the parallels were run unpleasantly near the fort, yet, had the besiegers so desired, there would have been twice as much to show for their efforts.

On the morning after two of the deserters had been tortured to death, it began to look as if our people would have little time for idleness.

The enemy’s trenches were filled with men, - regulars as well as Tories, - all of whom worked with a will, and at different points sharpshooters were stationed to pick off our sentinels.

“Now this is somethin’ like business,” Sergeant Corney said, as if the sense of additional danger was most pleasing to him.  “Barry St. Leger has just found out that there’s a chance of takin’ this fort by storm, an’ from now on we’ll have our hands full.”

Jacob and I were in the barracks trying to sleep when the old man burst in upon us with the remark I have set down, and as he spoke he began furbishing up his rifle with unusual care.

“Have you any especial work on hand?” I asked, looking curiously at him.

“Ay, lad, that’s what I have.  This ’ere garrison ain’t in any very great danger of runnin’ short of ammunition for the small arms, an’ we’re goin’ to give the enemy lead in the place of iron for a spell.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, somewhat petulantly, for it seemed as if the old man was making sport of me.

“Only that we’ve given the enemy’s sharpshooters a chance all the forenoon without interferin’ to any great extent, an’ now we’re countin’ on takin’ our turn.  Fifty men have been detailed to pick off as many of St. Leger’s force as we can draw a bead on.  I reckon workin’ in the trenches won’t be a healthy job from this time on.  Colonel Gansevoort allows to show the Britishers that he can stir his stumps if needs must.”

The sergeant left the barracks without giving us further information; but we soon learned that our people were to be kept sharply up to their work, instead of being allowed to spend five hours out of every six in lounging around.

The force of sharpshooters to which Sergeant Corney was assigned had been stationed on the north and east sides of the fort, where they could command a view of the British and Tory encampments and the trenches.

Another company of fifty was told off especially for the horn-works, while we Minute Boys were ordered to keep at least ten of our number constantly on watch over the sally-port, from which point the best view of the Indian encampment could be had.

Yet others of the force were detailed to go from one division to another of those I have named, in order to lend a hand in case it might become necessary, and thus it was we no longer had any loungers on the parade-grounds or near the barracks.

The orders were that every effort be made to pick off such of the enemy as offered themselves for targets, and before the day had come to an end St. Leger’s men must have begun to understand that the siege of Fort Schuyler was no longer the one-sided affair which it had been.

My lads could not have been stationed in any other position where they would have been as well satisfied, for thus were they fighting the savages who had threatened to ravage the Mohawk Valley, and every time we made a successful shot it was much as if we struck a blow in defence of our homes.

Thayendanega’s so-called braves did not give us very much opportunity to display our skill as marksmen, however.  Within five minutes after the curs discovered that we were straining every effort to reduce their number, they hugged the encampment mighty snug, and I am of the opinion that General St. Leger would have found it difficult to make them obey any order which might necessitate their coming within our line of fire.

In addition to this slow method of whipping a large force, I noted the fact that twenty men or more were at work moving one of the guns in the northwest bastion, and was not a little puzzled to make out why such a piece of work should be done at a time when we could not afford to use the cannon any more than was absolutely necessary.

My surprise was not lessened when the laborers with great difficulty transferred the big gun directly to our station, mounting it almost directly over the port, after which six rounds of ammunition were brought from the magazine and placed where it could be got at handily.

“Does the commandant think we lads can handle that cannon properly?” I asked of the corporal who was superintending the work, and he replied, with a laugh of satisfaction: 

“I reckon he wasn’t thinkin’ very much about you when he gave orders to have the gun moved.  That’s to help out on our surprise-party; it’ll carry a ball farther an’ with truer aim than any other piece in the fort, as I know, havin’ had somewhat to do with all of ’em.”

“What do you mean by a surprise-party?” I asked, in perplexity.  “An’ why should the best gun be brought here?”

“Well, you see, lad, the chances are them bloody sneaks will soon try to work the same deviltry which we had to look at idly last night, for it stands to reason that all who deserted from this fort fell into their clutches.  The next time they start in to kill a man by inches, believin’ they’re out of range, we’ll plump a ball into the middle of the gang that’ll make em’ hop a bit.”

I laughed in glee at the prospect of turning the tables on the bloodthirsty wretches, but very shortly came the thought that the unfortunate prisoners would be in as much danger as the savages, and this I suggested to the corporal, whereupon he said, gravely: 

“We’ll hope the first shot kills as many as are trussed up to the stakes, lad, because a quick death is the only favor we can do for the poor fellows.”

It would indeed be a mercy to kill the prisoners, if we could not save their lives; but of a verity we were come to hard lines when it was to be hoped our missiles would slay those who had been our comrades.

I believed all the garrison were better content, now that Colonel Gansevoort was finding work for every man.  Certainly there was less chance for searching out bugbears when they were busily engaged, and each of us felt a grim satisfaction at knowing that we inflicted some punishment on the enemy, however slight.

It must not be supposed that our sharpshooters found all the targets they desired, else had we wiped St. Leger’s force out in a twinkling; but there were in the white portion of his army a sufficient number who scorned to show fear of what we might be able to do, and these kept our men so engaged that the reports of the rifles were ringing out almost without intermission.

As I have already said, we Minute Boys had but little opportunity to show our skill after the first hour, because the savages kept so close within their lodges; but now and then we had a crack at a painted figure, and seldom missed our aim.

As the day wore away it became evident that the Indians counted on torturing the remainder of their prisoners as before, and, instead of suffering from the sickness of horror, as I had twenty-four hours previous, there was in my mind a most pleasing anticipation of what would be the result.

Half an hour before sunset they began setting up new posts, a fact which told that St. Leger had indeed turned over to them all the deserters.

Word was passed around the fort that the commandant counted on putting an end to their cruel sport, if perchance the distance was not greater than he had estimated, and by sunset every person inside the walls, save those who were acting as sentinels on the westerly side, had their faces turned in the direction of the Indian encampment.

It was claimed that the corporal with whom I had previously spoken was the best gunner in the command, and to him had been entrusted the work of sighting the cannon.

He had already charged it heavily, and when the savages began setting up new posts he knew the time had come to look for the proper range.

The corporal had no need to call for a crew to aid him.  An hundred pairs of hands were out-stretched eagerly whenever he signified the desire to have this thing or that done, and he was more like to suffer from a surplus of helpers than a lack.

It looked much as if Colonel Gansevoort feared that, while our attention was attracted toward the fiendish work of the savages, the British and Tory soldiers might make an assault, for he ordered the number of sentinels doubled and all the spectators to be in line, weapons in hand, that no time might be lost in case it became necessary to move them from one point to another.

Thayendanega’s wolves did not count on keeping us waiting very long; but as soon as the sun had set began crossing the river with their unfortunate prisoners, singing and shouting, as if the capture and torturing of these unarmed men was some signal act of bravery.

The corporal told off a certain number of those nearest to act as crew for the gun, explaining to them just how they should set about the task of recharging when once it had been discharged, and then the remainder of the spectators, save we Minute Boys who were entitled to remain at our stations, were forced to fall back that they might not impede the work after it was once begun.

By this time Colonel Gansevoort himself had come up, and thus we understood that he was to direct the firing.  If our cannon could carry a missile to the place of torture, then certain it was the red-skinned brutes would receive a lesson well calculated to surprise those who were left alive after the piece had been discharged.

The commandant did not wait until the horrible work was begun; but, once the stakes were surrounded by the howling, screaming, dancing mob as they placed the prisoners in the desired positions, the corporal got the word for which he had been eagerly waiting.

A puff of dense white smoke, a report which was almost deafening to those of us standing near by rang out.

Then we could follow the flight of the missile in the air until it struck, as it seemed to me, within a dozen paces of those bloodthirsty villains who stood on the outside of the throng, and, rebounding as does a flat stone when a boy drives it along the surface of the water, it plunged into the very midst of the fiendish crew.

I could see that one of the posts had been carried away by the ball, but whether or no the prisoner was killed could not be told from so great a distance and while he was surrounded by such numbers.

It was to be hoped the poor fellow had gone to his final account without pain, as would have been the case had the huge shot struck him.

The gunners did not wait to see the result of their work; but instantly the cannon was discharged every man sprang to the task allotted him, and the savages had not yet recovered from the first surprise before a second shot came hurtling among them, striking down half a score before it rebounded.

I do not believe forty seconds elapsed before the gunners were ready for the third discharge.  In order to save time they did not wait to swab out the piece, and the only preparation make by them was to clear the interior of smoke.

To tell it in the fewest possible words, the corporal had for his target nearly the entire number of Indians who had attempted to witness the torture, while we fired four shots, and not until then did the panic-stricken crew get their wits about them sufficiently to beat a retreat.

But the gun was discharged twice more while they were crossing the river, and I know for a certainty that one boat was swamped, while the ground in the vicinity of the posts set up for the prisoners seemed literally strewn with the dead and the dying.

At that moment, while we were making the air ring with our shouts of triumph, I saw a figure emerge from that sinister pile of dead and maimed and come limpingly in the direction of the fort, moving evidently with great effort and slowly.

At first I believed it was a wounded Indian, who was so crazed with pain or fear as not to be aware of the direction in which he was proceeding, and then a cry went up from the soldiers nearabout me: 

“Reuben Cox!  Reuben Cox!”

“Was he one of the deserters?” I asked of the corporal, who, his work having been done, was leaning out over the wall to watch the frightened sneaks as they scuttled into their lodges out of sight.

“Ay, that he was,” the corporal replied, “an’ it looks much as if he stood a chance to gain the fort before those painted beauties dare stick their noses out from cover.”

As we watched it was possible to see that the man’s arms were tied behind him, while it seemed as if his legs were fettered in some way; yet he was able to take short steps, and in his eagerness to make better speed he fell to the ground again and again, rising only with difficulty.

The fugitive was a deserter from the fort, one who had doubtless given such information to the British general as might work serious harm to all of us; but yet never a cry was heard from our garrison, save such as expressed hope that he might escape the terrible doom from which we had at least temporarily saved him, and all appeared eager for him to gain the fortification.

Even Colonel Gansevoort seemed to lose sight of the fact that if this man came among us once more it would be necessary to treat him as a deserter; but to check, if possible, pursuit from the British and Tory soldiers, he lined the walls with men under command to fire without waiting for the word, upon any of the enemy who might approach within range.

The crews of the guns in the northeastern bastion were sent to their posts of duty, in order that the pieces might be used in case an opportunity presented itself, and, in fact, every possible effort, save the absolute sallying out of a relief party, was made to preserve the life of the man who by all military laws deserved death.

It seemed to me as if I did not breathe while that poor, struggling creature was straining every effort to find a place of refuge among those whom he had wronged.  It was as if the distance increased even as he came toward us, and I found it difficult to remain silent while he stumbled, fell, rose, and fell again during his painful flight.

Fifty men or more ran to the sally-port, ready to open the gates if he should draw near, and Colonel Gansevoort made no effort to check them.

I believe at the moment that he entirely lost sight of the fact that this man could no longer claim the right of entrance, having forfeited it when he went over to the enemy.  He, and all within the walls, saw before them only a wretched prisoner, striving to escape from those who would torture him to death, and had he been a dear friend no greater anxiety could have been shown for his safety.

Not until he was within fifty yards of the walls of the fort did a shot come from the direction of the Indian encampment, and then the bullet sped wide of its mark.

From the camp of the Tories a squad of men dashed out, as if intent on cutting off the poor fellow even after he was close under the walls, but a gun from the northeastern bastion hurled a shot uncomfortably near, sending them flying back beyond range, and five minutes later Reuben Cox was in our midst, as nearly dead from wounds and fatigue as he ever would be again until his final moment had come.