The
morning of our escape seemed to have been especially marked out by
providence for us. It was the first and only time the Indians were not
upon the close watch. Up to that day, we used to march from sunrise to
sunset, and all night long the Indians would dance. I cannot conceive
how human beings could march all day, as they did, and then dance the
wild, frantic dances that they kept up all night. Coming on grey dawn
they would tire out and take some repose. Every morning they would
tear down our tent to see if we were in it. But whether attracted by
the arrival of the soldiers--by the news of General Strange's
engagement--or whether they considered we did not meditate flight, I
cannot say--but most certainly they neglected their guard that day.
Some of them came in as usual, but we were making tea, and they went
off. As soon as the coast was clear we left our tea, and all, and we
departed. Maybe they did not know which way we went, or perhaps they
were too much engaged with their own immediate danger to make chase,
but be that as it may, we escaped. It was our last night under the
lynx-eyed watchers. We went about two miles in the woods, and there
hid. So far I had no covering for my head, and but scant raiment for
my body. The season was very cold in April and May, and many a time I
felt numb, chill, and sick, but there was no remedy for it; only "grin
and go through.
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