In the darkness we crept past Butler’s right flank, silently and undiscovered; nor could we discover any sign of the enemy, though now not one among us doubted that he lay hidden along the bluffs, waiting for our army to move at sunrise into the deadly trap that the nature of the place had so perfectly provided.

All night long we moved on the hard and trodden trail; and toward dawn we reached a town.  Reconnoitering the place, we found it utterly abandoned.  If the Chinisee Castle lay beyond it, we could not determine, but Hanierri insisted that it was there.  So Boyd sent back four men to Sullivan to report on what we had done; and we lay in the woods on the outskirts of the village, to wait for daylight.

When dawn whitened the east, it became plain to us all that we had taken the wrong direction.  The Chinisee Castle was not here.  Nothing lay before us but a deserted village.

I knew not what to make of Boyd, for the discovery of our mistake seemed to produce no impression on him.  He stood at the edge of the woods, gazing vacantly across the little clearing where the Indian houses straggled on either side of the trail.

“We have made a bad mistake,” I said in a low voice.

“Yes, a bad one,” he said listlessly.

“Shall we not start on our return?” I asked.

“There is no hurry.”

“I beg your pardon, but I have to remind you that you are to report at sunrise.”

“Aye—­ if that were possible, Loskiel.”

“Possible!” I repeated, blankly.  “Why not?”

“Because,” he said in a dull voice, “I shall never see another sunrise save this one that is coming presently.  Let me have my fill of it unvexed by Generals and orders.”

“You are not well, Boyd,” I said, troubled.

“As well as I shall ever be—­ but not as ill, Loskiel.”

At that moment the Sagamore laid his hand on my shoulder and pointed.  I saw nothing for a moment; then Boyd and Murphy sprang forward, rifles in hand, and Mayaro after them, and I after them, running into the village at top speed.  For I had caught a glimpse of a most unusual sight; four Iroquois Indians on horseback, riding into the northern edge of the town.  Never before, save on two or three occasions, had I ever seen an Iroquois mounted on a horse.

We ran hard to get a shot at them, and beyond the second house came in full view of our enemies.  Murphy fired immediately, knocking the leading Indian from his horse; I fired, breaking the arm of the next rider; both my Indians fired and missed; and the Iroquois were off at full speed.  Boyd had not fired.

We ran to where the dead man was lying, and the Mohican recognized him as an Erie named Sanadaya.  Murphy coolly took his scalp, with an impudent wink at the Sagamore and a grin at Boyd and me.

In the meanwhile, our riflemen and Indians had rushed the town and were busy tearing open the doors of the houses and setting fire to them.  In vain I urged Boyd to start back, pointing out that this was no place for us to linger in, and that our army would burn this village in due time.