ng one behind the other, their hunting-shirts now
inside their belts leaving their thighs bare, as if they had been so many
Shawnees.

They moved swiftly and silently with no more show of confusion or emotion
than if they had been setting out on routine scout-duty. The child
screamed again, but not before feasters and workers had become
fighting-units. Those possessing guns ran quietly in scattering groups
toward the forest, leaving the women to guard the clearing and children.

And the women! They were marvelous in their spirit. With scarcely a word
they caught up the axes dropped by the men and formed a long line with the
children behind them. Little girls became little mothers and hurried still
smaller tots to the unfinished fort.

The woodsmen advanced to the woods, the women slowly fell back, herding
the youngsters behind them. As I ran my best to make up for the time lost
over my moccasins I passed the Widow McCabe. I shall never forget the
ferocious gleam of her slate-gray eyes, nor the superb courage of the thin
lips compressed in a straight line.

She moved with the grace of a forest cat, reluctant to fall back, her
muscular arm swinging the heavy ax as if it were a toy. Abreast of her,
and likewise refusing to retreat, was Moulton's wife, mother of three. She
was a thin, frail-appearing little woman with prominent blue eyes, and her
gaze was glassy as she stared at the woods, and her lips were drawn back
in a snarl.

"Moulton gal missin'," ran down the line. "Git t'other younkers back."

The line began bending at the ends to form a half-circle. The distracted
little mother left her place in it. Without a word to betray the anguish
tearing at her heart she gathered her linsey petticoat snugly about her,
and grasping an ax, ran swiftly toward the direction of the screaming. The
Widow McCabe hesitated, glanced over her shoulder. Satisfied the other
women had the children well grouped and close to the fort, she darted
after Mrs. Moulton.

"Keep back, you women!" yelled Elijah Runner. "Stay with the children!
They're letting the child scream to fetch us into a' ambush!"

This was excellent advice, but the widow and Mrs. Moulton gave it no heed.
One was impelled by hate, the other by love; and as they crashed into the
growth behind me each was worth a woodsman or two in hand-to-hand
fighting. With unnerving abruptness a man laughed boisterously directly
ahead of me. Yells and questions filled the arches of t