Katie’s first care had been to consign little Johnny to her brother; and the next was to place the helpless Alice in her mother’s arms, to be conveyed to a hut half a mile off. Then she held a hurried conference with her husband about a suitable place to conceal some fire-arms for future use; and snatching up a box of letters and small valuables, she fled with Flora, pistol in hand. When Alice had been cared for, as well as the exigencies of the moment would permit, she ran back to aid some of her sickly neighbours, who were breaking down with the weight of their clinging children. Then, swift as an ostrich, the daring woman ran back to Lawrence, to pick up some of the scattered clothes and bedding, which her husband and his neighbours carried off as fast as she could heap it on their shoulders. The Ruffians were so busy with the printing-press and the Hotel, and she watched opportunities so cautiously, that she had rescued many things from the wreck, before they noticed her. They drove her off with oaths and ribald jests. She stood within sight of her blazing home, and her hand was on her pistol. The temptation was strong. But she remembered the oft-repeated words of General Robinson: “Act _only_ on the defensive. Make no aggressions. Keep the cause of Kansas sacred.” She only turned upon her pursuers to say, “You _think_ you have silenced the Herald of Freedom, because you have demolished the printing-press; but you are mistaken. That trumpet will sound across the prairies yet.” “What a hell of a woman!” exclaimed one of the mob; and they laughed aloud in their drunken mirth, while the lurid flame of blazing homes lighted her across the prairies. What cared New England that _her_ six stars were looking down upon the scene, in shameful “Union” with that blood-red flag? * * * * * The rapid removal of Alice, and the discomforts of her situation in the empty hut, brought on fever. In states of half wakefulness, she murmured continually, “I want my _mother_! I want to go home to my _mother_!” “Yes, dear, you _shall_ go home,” said Katie, tenderly smoothing back her straggling hair. “Who _are_ you?” inquired the sufferer. “I am Katie. Don’t you know Katie?” The words seemed to waken no remembrance. She closed her eyes, and tears oozed slowly from them, as she murmured piteously, “I want to go home to my _mother_.” In this state of half consciousness she lingered two or three days. It was a mild, bright morning, and the terraced hills looked beautiful in the golden light, when she woke from a deep slumber, with a natural expression in her eyes, and asked, “Where am I?” “You are in Kansas, dear,” replied Katie. A shadow passed quickly over the thin pale face, and she pressed her emaciated hand against her heart. Again the eyelids closed, and the tears oozed through, as she answered feebly, “Yes--I remember.”