He addressed Wyatt over his shoulder. “How’s your knowledge of the scriptures, Lieutenant? Exodus, Chapter 12, Verse 51: ‘And it came to pass the selfsame day that the Lord did bring the children of Israel out of the land of Egypt by their armies.”

Wyatt shook his head apologetically. “Sorry, Reverend. I’m afraid my knowledge of the good book isn’t that good. Though from what I do recall, when the Israelites took their leave they were heading for Canaan not Canada, and it took them forty years. If that’s the colonel’s plan, we’re going to need a few more supplies.”

De Witt grinned. “I’m not sure how Colonel Johnson would take to being compared to Moses!”

“Well, if Canada does turn out to be the Promised Land, Reverend, you make sure you put some of that milk and honey aside for Tewanias and me.”

“I surely will, Lieutenant. It’ll be my pleasure.”

A fresh call came from up ahead. De Witt checked his daughter was secure, took hold of the bridle from his wife, adjusted the knapsack that rested across his shoulders and, with a final nod to the Ranger, coaxed the horse into motion.

“Walk on, Nell,” he said.

Wyatt presumed the reverend was talking to the mare. He had a feeling the pastor’s daughter was called Libby.

As the preacher and his family merged with the rest of the column, the boy summoned his dog and, holding the reins in his right hand and clutching the amulet in his left, he nudged his horse forward to join them. He made no attempt to look back.

“The boy shows courage,” Tewanias murmured softly as he stared after the preacher and his party.

“He does that,” Wyatt said.

The Mohawk had spoken in English. Wyatt had long become immune to his friend’s arbitrary use of language. As well as English, Tewanias was competent in French and the various Iroquois dialects. There never seemed to be a logical reason why he chose to converse in any one of them in particular and Wyatt had come to suspect that Tewanias switched back and forth for no better reason than he enjoyed being contrary.

The two men waited until the remainder of the column was on the move, then made their way to where the rest of the patrol was waiting.

Wyatt immediately registered the grim expression on Donaldson’s face.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Scouts have reported back. Seems the local militia’s woken up. The call’s gone out: all members are to collect their weapons and assemble at Johnstown.”

Wyatt shook his head dismissively. “They won’t risk attacking us – we outnumber them two to one.”

“They’ve sent messengers to Albany,” Donaldson said.