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For hellish ingenuity and devilish cruelty these mock savages, the Oneida assured us, had nothing to learn from their red comrades; and I shall never be able to efface from my mind the memory of what we saw, that very day, in a lonely farm-house on the flats of the Mohawk; nor was it necessary that McCraw should have left his mark on the shattered door a cock crowing, drawn in outline by a man's forefinger steeped in blood to enlighten those who might not recognize the ghastly work as his.
He lay brooding for a while; when I opened my eyes he broke out fretfully: "How was I to dream that McCraw could be so near! that he dared raid us within a mile of the house! Oh, I could die of shame, Ormond! die of shame!... But I won't die that way; oh no," he added, with a frightful smile that left his face distorted and white. He raised himself on one elbow.
Some of the men scowled at him. "Is that smoke?" I asked, sharply. "Answer me, McCraw!" "A canna' deny it," he said, with a mad chuckle. "Is it Indian smoke?" demanded Van Horn. "Aweel," he replied, craning his skinny neck and cocking his head impudently "aweel, a'll admit that, too. It's Indian smoke; a canna deny it, no." "Is it a Mohawk signal?" I asked, bluntly.
"All that I saw and heard," she whispered, "and I know father told Walter Butler, for a scout came yesterday, saying that a scout from the Rangers and the Royal Greens had crossed the hills, and I saw some of Sir John's Scotch loons riding like warlocks on the new road, and that great fool, Francy McCraw, tearing along at their head and crowing like a cock."
At which he burst out into a crowing laugh. "What does he say?" called out the man from the tavern. "What does he say, Francy McCraw?" "He says it maun be Mohawk smoke, Danny Redstock." "And what if it is?" blustered Redstock, shouldering his way to McCraw, rifle in hand. "Keep your black looks for your neighbors, Andrew Bowman. What have we to do with your Mohawk fires?"
"Then tell the feckless fools tae watch it!" screamed McCraw, seizing his rifle and menacing the little throng of men and women who had closed swiftly in on him. "Hands off me, Johnny Putnam back, for your life, Charley Cady! Ay, stare at the smoke till ye're eyes drop frae th' sockets! But no; there's some foulk 'ill tak' nae warnin'!"
Far away a sound grew in the night the dull blows of horses' hoofs on sod; a shot rang faintly, a distant cry was echoed by a long-drawn yell and a volley. The renegade officer came running back, calling out, "McCraw has struck the Legion at the grist-mill!"
We heard that the Stonish Giants had returned; the Onondagas sent us word, but we did not know this grove was where they gathered from Biskoona! McCraw sent us here to await the flag." "Liar!" hissed the hag. "It is the truth," muttered the chief, shuddering. "Witness if I speak the truth, O ensigns of the three clans!" And a hollow groan burst from the cowering savages. "We witness, mother.
Five of girls' scalps; small yellow hoops. Marked with the Seneca symbol to whom they were delivered before scalping. 48 scalps assorted, @ 20 dollars a dozen..............80 dollars. "Received payment, F. McCRAW." The ghastly face of the prisoner turned livid, and he shrieked as Mount caught him by the collar and dragged him to his feet.
These alarms are all wrong your men are either soldiers or farmers; they cannot be both unless they live close enough to the forts. Tell Mr. Schell that Francy McCraw and his riders are in the forest, and that the Brandt-Meester of Balston saw a Mohawk smoke-signal on the mountain behind Mayfield."
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