As we left the stockade I noted the row of
Meebaw scalps hanging, grim and bloody, from the poles. The Borderers
were up and stirring, for they looked to take the Indians in the river
narrows before the morning was old.
No two Indian war parties ever take the same path, so it was Shalah's
plan to work back to the route we had just travelled, by which the
Cherokees had come yesterday. This sounds simple enough, but the danger
lay in the second party. By striking to right or left we might walk
into it, and then good-bye to our hopes of the hills. But the whole
thing was easier to me than the cruel toil of yesterday. There was need
of stealth and woodcraft, but not of yon killing speed.
For the first hour we went up a northern fork of the Rappahannock, then
crossed the water at a ford, and struck into a thick pine forest. I was
feeling wonderfully rested, and found no discomfort in Shalah's long
strides. My mind was very busy on the defence of the Borders, and I
kept wondering how long the Governor's militia would take to reach the
Rappahannock, and whether Lawrence could reinforce the northern posts
in time to prevent mischief in Stafford county. I cast back to my
memory of the tales of Indian war, and could not believe but that the
white man, if warned and armed, would roll back the Cherokees.
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