That little city of cabins, nestling among the lonely hills, has called and called in vain for redress and protection. The murders and robberies still go on. The Border Ruffians are assembling their forces at Franklin below, and at Douglass above. In their drunken frankness, they say they will shoot the men, violate the women, kill the children, and burn the houses; that their commission is to drive all the Yankee settlers out of the territory, by _any_ means, and _all_ means; and that no man will dare to prosecute them, whatever they may do. The settlers all feel that the hour for self-defence has come. Stacks of Sharpe’s rifles stand in the cabins ready loaded. Forts are erected, and breast-works thrown up. Companies of men work at them by turns, all day and all night, by the light of blazing wood. Volunteers come in from the neighbouring settlements. The Wyandott tribe of Indians offer their aid in case of need; for they have been justly treated by the Kansas people, and are unwilling to have them “wiped out.” Sentinels guard the doors of the Free State Hotel. All night, mounted patrols ride round the settlement. The drummer watches at his post, ready to beat the alarm; for they have learned that their cowardly, treacherous foes, assassin-like, prefer the midnight hour. Ever and anon, random shots come from ruffians concealed in dark corners. Women look anxiously at the doors, expecting to see the bleeding bodies of husbands, sons, or brothers, brought in. Governor Robinson, now General of the forces, still pursues his course of moderation, and orders the men not to fire till the very last extremity. There was a small store of powder and percussion-caps in the vicinity, and various plans were devised to bring it in safely, through the scouting-parties of Missourians. “I will do it,” said Mrs. Bradford. “They will never suspect that women carry such luggage.” Another woman in the neighbourhood promptly offered to accompany her, and they started in a wagon for that purpose. They were accosted by Missouri scouts, but as their place of destination seemed to imply nothing more than visiting a friend, they deemed it gallant to let the ladies pass unmolested. The kegs of powder were covered by their ample skirts, and brought safely into Lawrence. The young men on guard threw up their caps, and cried, “Hurra! Worthy of the women of ’76!” Alice also was brave in her way. She resigned herself patiently to the long and frequent absence of her beloved husband, and no out-of-door work seemed too hard for her to perform. All through the autumn, she and the other women of the household had helped to gather the crops, tend the cows, and feed the horses. When it came William’s turn to patrol Lawrence, or to work at the trenches through the night, she never asked him to stay with her. She only gave him a tenderer kiss, a more lingering pressure of the hand, which seemed to say, “This may be our last farewell.”