“The ol’ brute that Jack had knocked down quivered an’ lay still a minit an’ when he come to, we turned him, eround an’ started him towards Canady an’ tol’ him to keep a-goin’!  When he were ’bout ten rods off, I put a bullet in his ol’ wooden leg fer to hurry him erlong.  So the wust man-killer that ever trod dirt got erway from us with only a sore belly, we never knowin’ who he were.  I wish I’d ‘a’ killed the cuss, but as ’twere, we had consid’able trouble on our hands.  Right erway we heard two guns go off over by the house.  I knowed that our firin’ had prob’ly woke up some o’ the sleepers.  We pounded the ground an’ got thar as quick as we could.  The two wimmen wa’n’t fur behind.  They didn’t cocalate to lose us—­you hear to me.  Two young braves had sprung up an’ been told to lie down ag’in.  But the English language ain’t no help to an Injun under them surcumstances.  They don’t understan’ it an’ thar ain’t no time when ignerunce is more costly.  They was some others awake, but they had learnt suthin’.  They was keepin’ quiet, an’ I sez to ’em: 

“‘If ye lay still ye’ll all be safe.  We won’t do ye a bit o’ harm.  You’ve got in bad comp’ny, but ye ain’t done nothin’ but steal a pair o’ wimmen.  If ye behave proper from now on, ye’ll be sent hum.’

“We didn’t have no more trouble with them.  I put one o’ Boneses’ boys on a hoss an’ hustled him up the valley fer help.  The wimmen captives was bawlin’.  I tol’ ’em to straighten out their faces an’ go with Jack an’ his father down to Fort Stanwix.  They were kind o’ leg weary an’ excited, but they hadn’t been hurt yit.  Another day er two would ‘a’ fixed ’em.  Jack an’ his father an’ mother tuk ’em back to the pasture an’ Jack run up to the barn fer ropes an’ bridles.  In a little while they got some hoofs under ’em an’ picked up the childern an’ toddled off.  I went out in the bush to find Buckeye an’ he were dead as the whale that swallered Jonah.”

So ends the letter of Solomon Binkus.

Jack Irons and his family and that of Peter Bones—­the boys and girls riding two on a horse—­with the captives filed down the Mohawk trail.  It was a considerable cavalcade of twenty-one people and twenty-four horses and colts, the latter following.

Solomon Binkus and Peter Bones and his son Israel stood on guard until the boy John Bones returned with help from the upper valley.  A dozen men and boys completed the disarming of the band and that evening set out with them on the south trail.

2

It is doubtful if this history would have been written but for an accidental and highly interesting circumstance.  In the first party young Jack Irons rode a colt, just broken, with the girl captive, now happily released.  The boy had helped every one to get away; then there seemed to be no ridable horse for him.  He walked for a distance by the stranger’s mount as the latter was wild.  The girl was silent for a time after the colt had settled down, now and then wiping tears from her eyes.  By and by she asked: