es are
fully ripe."

Mrs. Nutter's news of the berries was of interest to Mrs. Wiggin and her
daughters, who picked up their baskets to start for the field at once.

Anthony Wiggin, who was sorting his papers at his desk, shook his head
with the warning:

"It is a great risk you run to go into that open field without a guard.
Indians may even now be prowling about the woods."

Nevertheless the women started off for the strawberries. Little Patience,
with the strip of patchwork dangling from her pocket, joined them so
quickly that one could almost believe some large stitches had been taken
on that last square.

When Anthony Wiggin had finished his work and each paper had been placed
in its proper pigeon hole, he closed his desk.

"Hm," he muttered, glancing from the window at the women and children in
the field, "they do not sense the danger we constantly live in, now that
the French have stirred up the Indians. I believe I will frighten them
with a shot, just as a warning."

[Illustration]

He picked up his gun from the corner where it was kept in constant
readiness and, stepping to the door, sent a bullet over the heads of the
strawberry pickers, whizzing into the woods beyond.

Baskets and berries were dropped by the pickers in their fright and haste
to get home, for their fears had been aroused by the words of Anthony
Wiggin before they left the house. Patience, who had not sensed a
possible danger, had wandered near to the woods where the berries were
more abundant. Even after the sound of the gun, she lingered for a few
more strawberries.

The shot acted like magic upon the inhabitants of Exeter, who took it for
an alarm of danger. Men dropped plough or rein and seized their guns.
Women followed with powder-horns and bullets. In less time than one could
believe, an armed body was in the village centre ready to protect their
homes.

That gun-shot carried its force still farther, for there in the woods
beyond the strawberry field lay the Indians in ambush.

"We are discovered," reported their leader. The savages then bounded into
the open to make their attack, only to find themselves faced by an armed
body of men. Firing a few shots, the Indians then made a hasty retreat.
One, however, seeing Patience running for home and yet not halfway
across the field, dashed after her, caught the child in his arms, and
followed the retreating band.

"Patience! Patience!" shrieked her mother. "She is captured! Oh,