The next day and the next they returned, tomahawk
and firebrand in hand, and so the war began.
Other tribes joined with King Philip, and soon New England was
filled with terror and bloodshed. The men of New England gathered
in force to fight the Indians. But they were a hard foe to fight,
for they never came out to meet the Pale-faces in open field.
At first when the British began to settle in America they had made
it a rule never to sell firearms to the Indians. But that rule had
long ago been broken through. Now the Indians not only had guns,
but many of them were as good shots as the British. Yet they kept
to their old ways of fighting, and, stealthily as wild animals, they
skulked behind trees, or lurked in the long grass, seeking their
enemies. They knew all the secret forest ways, they were swift of
foot, untiring, and mad with the lust of blood. So from one lonely
village to another they sped swiftly a the eagle, secretly as the
fox. And where they passed they left a trail of blood and ashes.
At night around some lonely homestead all would seem quiet. Far as
the eye could see there would be no slightest sign of any Redman,
and the tired labourer would go to rest feeling safe, with his
wife and children beside him. But ere the first red streaks of dawn
shivered across the sky he would be awakened by fiendish yells.
Pages:
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288