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Show Page 196 A circle of Indians parted to reveal in their midst a white woman-Anne Jackson, sister to John Jackson. A few other settlers were crowded about her, most of them being children, their faces so smudged with soot, dirt and tears I could not tell who they were. They were given a shove and led away, soon disappearing into the forest with their abductors. The sun was well past midday when at last all the Indians had melted back into the forest. I still sat, benumbed and silent, in the maple, heedless of the passing of the hours, my mind ablaze with dancing pictures of horror. At last, my head throbbing, my dangling legs numb, my mind wearied, I dozed, The sound of voices awoke me. The gate of the fort palisade swung open and five men marched out, muskets at the ready, William Harwood in the lead. I untied my shawl from the tree and crept down, fearful of what might await me at the bottom, for I could see no sign of Margaret. My trembling legs scarce could hold me when at last I reached the ground. She was not there. Perhaps she was among those whose body parts lay scattered about the settlement. I shivered sorely as I crept toward the gully and the men on the other side. I halted at the far side of the gully, within the shelter of the trees, for fear a stray Indian still lurked about the |
