swarthy man was Nate Dicks. He
had sent his family over the mountains and was staying behind to gather
the season's crops, explained Cousin. The third man was along in years and
walked with a limp.

"That's the old Englishman. All the name he goes by. No kin to any one on
this side the ocean, he says. He lives with the Granvilles. The empty
cabin belonged to the Drakes. They pulled out early this spring. Dicks
lives in the t'other-end cabin."

"I make out at least two people in there now," I murmured.

"They'll be the Dales. Dicks's prob'ly sleepin' in the Granville cabin."

My heart behaved badly for a minute.

"Listen to that pup!" softly exclaimed Cousin, his brows drawing down.
"The fools have him tied up, an they ain't got sense 'nough to hark to
what he's tryin' to tell 'em."

"We're here ahead of the Indians. Let's go down," I urged.

"Wait! Look across!" He pointed to the wall of woods opposite our
hiding-place. John Ward had broken cover and was stalking toward the
cabins. The black cloth he wore around his head gave him a sinister,
piratical appearance and his feet tracked like an Indian's.

I would have descended the slope but Cousin clutched my arm, whispering:

"If there ain't no Injuns across the valley we can afford to wait a bit.
If there is, our goin' down would hurry up their attack. It won't do to
call out an' scare 'em so they'll scatter. As they are now they can fort
themselves in the shake of a dog's tail."

Two women, Mrs. Granville and her sister, now walked back of the middle
cabin and picked up some wood. Both were barefooted, and I was close
enough to read the expression of constant fear on each face. As they
stooped for the wood their gaze was continually roving over the woods on
our ridge, and often their fingers fumbled for a fagot while their eyes
persisted in examining the forest.

Now Dale and Patsy emerged from their cabin and walked to meet Ward.
Cousin groaned aloud as he beheld the girl. There was something in her
appearance to remind him of his lost sister. Ericus Dale greeted Ward with
a wide flourish of his hand. Ward was emotionless as a Shawnee chief.
Granville and Dicks hurried to join the three, anxious no doubt to learn
the result of Ward's scouting.

His report seemed to please the men, for Granville laid aside his rifle
and began chopping a long log into fireplace lengths. Dicks walked toward
the middle cabin, lustily singing:

"Ye patriot sou