hat I am going into
the hills to find if my fears are justified. Never mind what that
means. Just pass on the words. They will understand them at James Town.
So much for the Governor. Now I want word sent to Frew's homestead on
the South Fork. Who is to carry it?"

One old fellow, who chewed tobacco without intermission, spat out the
leaf, and asked me what news I wanted to send.

"Just that we are attacked," I said.

"That's a simple job," he said cheerfully. "All down the Border posts
we have a signal. Only yesterday we got word of it from the place you
speak of. A mile from here is a hillock within hearing of the stockade
at Robertson's Ford. One shot fired there will tell them what you want
them to know. Robertson's will fire twice for Appleby's to hear, and
Appleby's will send on the message to Dopple's. There are six posts
between here and the South Fork, so when the folk at Frew's hear seven
shots they will know that the war is on the Rappahannock."

I recognized old Lawrence's hand in this. It was just the kind of
device that he would contrive. I hoped it would not miscarry, for I
would have preferred a messenger; but after all the Border line was his
concern.

Then I spoke aside to Shalah. In his view the Cherokees would not
attack at dawn. They were more likely to wait till their supports
overtook them, and then, to make a dash for the Rappahannock farms.
Plunder was more in the line of these gentry than honest fighting. I
spoke to the leader of the post, and he was for falling upon them in
the narrows of the Rapidan. Their victory over the Meebaws had fired
the blood of the Borderers, and made them contemptuous of the enemy.
Still, in such a predicament, when we had to hold a frontier with a
handful, the boldest course was likely to be the safest. I could only
pray that Nicholson's levies would turn up in time to protect the
valley.

"Time passes, brother," said Shalah. "We came by swiftness, but we
return by guile. In three hours it will be dawn. Sleep till then, for
there is much toil before thee."

I saw the wisdom of his words, and went promptly to bed in a corner of
the stockade. As I was lying down a man spoke to me, one Rycroft, at
whose cabin I had once sojourned for a day.

"What brings the parson hereaways in these times?" he asked.

"What parson?" I asked.

"The man they call Doctor Blair."

"Great God!" I cried, "what about him?"

"He was in Stafford county when I left, hunting for