heir beds. There was a
patrol inside the palisade, but there was little discipline among these
extemporized soldiers; the watchers grew careless as the frosty night
went on; and it is said that towards morning they, like the villagers,
betook themselves to their beds.

Rouville and his men, savage with hunger, lay shivering under the pines
till about two hours before dawn; then, leaving their packs and their
snow-shoes behind, they moved cautiously towards their prey. There was a
crust on the snow strong enough to bear their weight, though not to
prevent a rustling noise as it crunched under the feet of so many men.
It is said that from time to time Rouville commanded a halt, in order
that the sentinels, if such there were, might mistake the distant sound
for rising and falling gusts of wind. In any case, no alarm was given
till they had mounted the palisade and dropped silently into the
unconscious village. Then with one accord they screeched the war-whoop,
and assailed the doors of the houses with axes and hatchets.

The hideous din startled the minister, Williams, from his sleep.
Half-wakened, he sprang out of bed, and saw dimly a crowd of savages
bursting through the shattered door. He shouted to two soldiers who were
lodged in the house; and then, with more valor than discretion, snatched
a pistol that hung at the head of the bed, cocked it, and snapped it at
the breast of the foremost Indian, who proved to be a Caughnawaga chief.
It missed fire, or Williams would, no doubt, have been killed on the
spot. Amid the screams of his terrified children, three of the party
seized him and bound him fast; for they came well provided with cords,
since prisoners had a market value. Nevertheless, in the first fury of
their attack they dragged to the door and murdered two of the children
and a negro woman called Parthena, who was probably their nurse. In an
upper room lodged a young man named Stoddard, who had time to snatch a
cloak, throw himself out of the window, climb the palisade, and escape
in the darkness. Half-naked as he was, he made his way over the snow to
Hatfield, binding his bare feet with strips torn from the cloak.

They kept Williams shivering in his shirt for an hour while a frightful
uproar of yells, shrieks, and gunshots sounded from without. At length
they permitted him, his wife, and five remaining children to dress
themselves. Meanwhile the Indians and their allies burst into most of
the houses, killed