me and wondering whether I should ever return to open it again.
The trodden forest trail, wide enough for a team to pass, lay straight before me due west, through heavy woods, to Andrew Bowman's farm.
When I came into the cleared land, I perceived Mrs. Bowman washing clothing in a spring near the door of her log house, and the wash a-bleaching in the early sun. When she saw me she called to me across the clearing:
"Have you news for me, John Drogue?"
"None," said I. "Where is your man, Martha?"
"Gone away to Stoner's with pack and rifle. He is but just departed. Is it only a drill call, or are the Indians out at the Lower Castle?"
"I know nothing," said I. "Are you alone in the house?"
"A young kinswoman, Penelope Grant, servant to old Douw Fonda, arrived late last night with my man from Caughnawaga, and is still asleep in the loft."
As she spoke a girl, clothed only in her shift, came to the open door of the log house. Her naked feet were snow-white; her hair, yellow as October-corn, seemed very thick and tangled.
She stood blinking as though dazzled, the glory of the rising sun in her face; then the tolling of the tocsin swam to her sleepy ears, and she started like a wild thing when a shot is fired very far away.
And, "What is that sound?" she exclaimed, staring about her; and I had never seen a woman's eyes so brown under such yellow hair.
She stepped out into the fresh grass and stood in the dew listening, now gazing at the woods, now at Martha Bowman, and now upon me.
Speech came to me with an odd sort of anger. I said to Mrs. Bowman, who stood gaping in the sunshine:
"Where are your wits? Take that child into the house and bar your shutters and draw water for your tubs. And keep your door bolted until some of the militia can return from Stoner's."
"Oh, my God," said she, and fell to snatching her wash from the bushes and grass.
At that, the girl Penelope turned and looked at me. And I thought she was badly frightened until she spoke.
"Young soldier," said she, "do you know if Sir John has fled?"
"I know nothing," said I, "and am like to learn less if you women do not instantly go in and bar your house."
"Are the Mohawks out?" she asked.
"Have I not said I do not know?"
"Yes, sir… But I should have escort by the shortest route to Cayadutta – "
"You talk like a child," said I, sharply. "And you seem scarcely more," I added, turning away. But I lingered still to see them safely bolted in before I departed.
"Soldier," she began timidly; but I interrupted:
"Go fill your tubs against fire-arrows," said I. "Why do you loiter?"
"Because I have great need to return to Caughnawaga. Will you guide me the shortest way by the woods?"
"Do you not hear that bell?" I demanded angrily.
"Yes, sir, I hear it. But I should go to Cayadutta – "
"And I should answer that militia call," said I impatiently. "Go in and lock the house, I tell you!"
Mrs. Bowman, her arms full of wet linen, ran into the house. The girl, Penelope, gazed at the woods.
"I am servant to a very old man," she said, twisting her linked fingers. "I can not abandon him! I can not let him remain all alone at Cayadutta Lodge. Will you take me to him?"
"And if I were free of duty," said I, "I would not take you or any other woman into those accursed woods!"
"Why not, sir?"
"Because I do not yet comprehend what that bell is telling me. And if it means that there is a painted war-party out between the Sacandaga and the Mohawk, I shall not take you to Caughnawaga when I return from Stoner's, and that's flat!"
"I am not afraid to go," said she. But I think I saw her shudder; and her face seemed very still and white. Then Mrs. Bowman ran out of the house and caught the girl by her homespun shift.
"Come indoors!" she cried shrilly, "or will you have us all pulling war arrows out of our bodies while you stand blinking at the woods and gossiping with Jack Drogue?"
The girl shook herself free, and asked me again to take her to Cayadutta Lodge.
But I had no more time to argue, and I flung my rifle to my shoulder and started out across the cleared land.
Once I looked back. And I saw her still standing there, the rising sun bright on her tangled hair, and her naked feet shining like silver in the dew-wet grass.
By a spring path I hastened to the house of John Putman, and found him already gone and his family drawing water and fastening shutters.
His wife, Deborah, called to me saying that the Salisburys should be warned, and I told her that I had already spoken to the Bowmans.
"Your labour for your pains, John Drogue!" cried she. "The Bowmans are King's people and need fear neither Tory nor Indian!"
"It is unjust to say so, Deborah," I retorted warmly. "Dries Bowman is already on his way to answer the militia call!"
"Watch him!" she said, slamming the shutters; and fell to scolding her children, who, poor things, were striving at the well with dripping bucket too heavy for their strength.
So I drew the water they might need if, indeed, it should prove true that Little Abe's Mohawks at the Lower Castle had painted themselves and were broken loose; and then I ran back along the spring path to the Salisbury's, and found them already well bolted in, and their man gone to Stoner's with rifle and pack.
And now comes Johnny Silver, who had ridden my mare from Varick's, but had no news, all being tranquil along Frenchman's Creek, and nobody able to say what the Block House bell was telling us.
"Did you stable Kaya?" I asked.
"Oui, mon garce! I have bolt her in tight!"
"Good heavens," said I, "she can not remain bolted in to starve if I am sent on to Canada! Get you forward to Stoner's house and say that I delay only to fetch my horse!"
The stout little French trapper flung his piece to his shoulder and broke into a dog-trot toward the west.
"Follow quickly, Sieur Jean!" he called gaily. "By gar, I have smell Iroquois war paint since ver' long time already, and now I smell him strong as old dog fox!"
I turned and started back through the woods as swiftly as I could stride.
As I came in sight of my log house, I was astounded to see my mare out and saddled, and a woman setting foot to stirrup. As I sprang out of the edge of the woods and ran toward her, she wheeled Kaya, and I saw that it was the Caughnawaga wench in my saddle and upon my horse – her yellow hair twisted up and shining like a Turk's gold turban above her bloodless face.
"What do you mean!" I cried in a fury. "Dismount instantly from that mare! Do you hear me?"
