Saratoga by David Garland Read Free Book Online Page B

fled before them at every point in their journey down the lake. The rebels knew that they were coming.
    The Iroquois braves chosen to go with Skoyles were lithe, muscular youngmen who, apart from a breechcloth and a set of beads apiece, were virtually naked. They each carried a hunting knife and a tomahawk, a fearsome weapon that they could use as a club or throw with force and unfailing accuracy. Of the three Indians, only one understood English well. Unable to pronounce their names, Skoyles opted largely for sign language.
    He had grave reservations about the inclusion of four hundred Indians in the army. While they were fine scouts, they could be unreliable in combat, ever likely to act on impulse, scalp, mutilate, rape, or plunder with indiscriminate savagery. Their loyalty was also questionable. When the army had earlier assembled at Bouquet River, General Burgoyne had issued two proclamations. The first was addressed to American colonists, warning them that those who sided with the rebels would be severely punished and threatening that he would unleash his Indians against them. Since it was directed at a farming population—some of whom could not even read—its flowery language and grandiose claims were somewhat wasted.
    The second proclamation had been delivered to the Indians, and Skoyles could recall some of the exact words used by Burgoyne, "
I positively forbid bloodshed when you are not opposed in arms. Aged men, women, children, and prisoners must be held sacred from the knife even in time of actual conflict
."
    The Indians had cheered the general to the echo even though most of them did not realize what he was saying. Skoyles had fought with Indians beside him before, and he knew that it would take more than a humane and well-intended edict to prevent them from resorting to their traditional methods of warfare. After the proclamation, drink had unwisely been served to the Indians, and they performed an impromptu war dance, so wild and uninhibited that even some of the hardened soldiers were shocked.
    Suppressing his doubts about them, Skoyles set off with his three companions. As they passed through the picket line, he was interested to see that Roger Higgs, the private who had been flogged a fortnight earlier, was back on duty. Morose but watchful, Higgs gave him a nod, aware that Skoyles had at least tried to speak up for him. It was clear from the way he kept shifting position that the sentry was still in pain from his beating, but he was nevertheless doing his duty.
    When they plunged into the woods, Skoyles let one of the Indians take the lead. Clouds of blackflies rose up to envelop them, but the Indians seemed unaware of them. Carrying his musket in one hand, Skoyles used the other toswat the insects away, grateful for the wide-brimmed hat that gave him a measure of protection. He stayed close behind the leading man and marveled at the sureness with which he picked his way past swamps and through dense undergrowth.
    They had gone over five miles when the incident occurred. It was Skoyles who first sensed danger. Hearing and seeing nothing, he nevertheless had a warning of peril. Tapping the man ahead of him to bring him to a halt, he waved to the two men behind him. They fanned out and crouched behind cover, listening intently. One of the Indians then decided that it was a false alarm and he stood up. It was a fatal error.
    Somewhere ahead of them, a weapon was fired and the ball hit the Indian in the eye before making an untidy exit through the rear of his skull. He collapsed in a heap, his feathers sodden with blood. Enraged by his death, the other Indians waited to see if there would be more firing. Instead, they heard the sound of hasty departure and set off quickly in pursuit. Skoyles went with them, hoping to catch the attacker before they did so that he could take the prisoner alive. The rifle shot had been deadly, but the weapon was slow to reload, so its owner had taken to his heels, hoping to