By five o’clock it was so dark that Aunt Martha had to light a candle in order to see to read. Rain was still falling, and with it came a heavy fog that swept like smoke through the narrow streets. “It’s good we didn’t so fishing,” said Jud. “This is a regular northeast storm. Probably it will last for two or three days.” “Yes, and it’s growing cold,” said Aunt Martha. “Donald, I think we’d better have a fire.” Between the two of them the boys soon had a cheerful, crackling fire on the hearth; and by the light of it Aunt Martha became more like her old self. During supper she laughed frequently with the boys, especially when Jud told of his many pets. And afterward she played fox and geese with them. “I declare, Jud,” she said, “I’m glad you came.” The evening passed swiftly and pleasantly, though outside the wind was howling and sending the heavy drops of rain spattering against the windows. Don and Jud had finished their last game, and Aunt Martha was looking at them inquiringly, when suddenly the knocker on the door rose and fell. “Oh!” cried Aunt Martha, startled. “Now who can that be?” said Don and went to the door. He opened it a crack and then stepped backward in astonishment as a man pushed his way inside and hastily closed the door behind him. “Glen--Glen!” cried Aunt Martha and fairly flew to meet the visitor. Don was too much surprised to speak. He only looked on dumbly as the old trapper caught his aunt’s hands and drew her swiftly into the shadows away from the window. “Glen,” said Aunt Martha, “only one thing could bring you here--David----” “Is well,” replied the trapper and sat down in one of the chairs. “He’s been sick, Martha--he was wounded at Bunker’s Hill--but he’s doing well. There’s no cause for worry.” Aunt Martha drew a deep breath and sank into a chair beside him. “Don, my boy, how are you?” asked Glen. “I see you’re taking good care of your aunt. And this----” He glanced at Jud searchingly for a moment. “This is Jud Appleton,” said Aunt Martha. “Don’s close companion and as loyal as any of us.” Jud winced under the trapper’s grip and from that moment would have followed his lead anywhere. “I told you he’d come if he wanted to,” whispered Don. Though Glen was naturally a man of few words he did most of the talking during the two hours that he remained at the house in Pudding Lane. He had crossed from Cambridge under cover of rain and darkness and would return the same way. David Hollis, he said, had received a ball through the shoulder during the third assault of the Redcoats on the hill and was now at Cambridge, where he would probably remain until he was fully recovered; then he would rejoin his company. Glen had had two reasons for coming, it seemed; one was to acquaint Aunt Martha with the exact condition of her husband; the other was to bring money, which both he and David Hollis feared she was sorely in need of.