Instantly a mighty roar of Tory musketry filled the forest; and their Indians, realizing that the ambuscade had been discovered, came leaping down the wooded ridge, yelling and firing all along our front; and our rifles began to speak quicker and quicker from every rock and tuft and fallen log.

“Are we to miss this?” said Boyd, restlessly. “Listen to that firing! The devil take this fellow Amochol and his Eries! I wish we were yonder with our own people. I wish at least that I could see what our New Yorkers are about!”

Behind us, Boyd’s twenty riflemen stood craning their sunburnt necks; and my Indians, terribly excited, fairly quivered where they crouched beside us. But all we could see was the rifle smoke sifting through the trees, and early sunshine slanting on the misty river.