Читать книгу Forest Glen; or, The Mohawk's Friendship онлайн

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As they assembled in the kitchen of the fort that night for supper, it seemed well-nigh certain that some of those seated at that table would never eat together again; yet the men ate heartily, and even cheerfully. But it was a solemn parting, when, soon after nightfall, they moved silently from the fort, in Indian file, to take up their positions.

The mothers and children stood at the gate watching the departing forms of their kindred till they could no longer be distinguished, and when the great bars that closed the entrance were dropped into their mortises with a dull thud, it reminded more than one of the fall of clods on the coffin-lid.

There were but two men left in the fort,—Israel Blanchard and Mr. Seth. As for the negro, he had not been seen since the inhabitants went into garrison.

"What a pity Scip is such a miserable coward! He is an excellent shot, and might do good service at the loop-holes. I suppose he's hid somewhere," said Israel Blanchard.

In this state of things, the boys held the watch; and, as there were so many of them, they stood but an hour each, Blanchard keeping guard during the two hours before daybreak.