on the eastern shore, their garments dripping, but caring nothing
for that. The boat was drawn far enough up the bank to prevent its
being swept away by the current, and then all stood side by side,
and as if by a common impulse, looked back at the shore they had
left.

The smoke from the burning Fort Wintermoot still rested on the
calm surface of the river, and filtered among the green vegetation
near the scene of the battle. Other buildings had been fired, and
mingled their vapor with it.

Here and there, every minute or two, sounded the sharp crack of a
rifle. This too often meant that some fugitive had been run down by
his cruel pursuer, who listened to no pleadings for mercy. A good
many had taken refuge on Monacacy Island, from which the reports
of guns continually came.

I have not the space here to tell you of the wonderful escapes at
Wyoming, the particulars of which I have given in another work.

One boy, who was with several men near Fort Jenkins before the
battle, saw all the men shot down or captured; but he hid himself
among some willows and was not noticed.

If you ever visit the scene of the battle, you will notice a broad,
flat stone, called Queen Esther's Rock, a half dozen miles below
Wilkesbarre. Queen Esther was an old, cruel, half breed woman who
came with the Indians. She is sometimes known as Katharine Montour.
A son of hers was killed in the conflict, and she was so angered
that she had sixteen captives placed around the rock, and meant to