"Benita, I missed you dreadfully, off there in Woodford. I had to make my own bed and do my own mending!" Benita gave an odd little sound of distress. "But Benita will do it now," she urged anxiously. "You'll have to get around Grandmother then, Benita,--I can't." "The Senora is kind--" Benita began. "--but firm," added Blue Bonnet. "I leave her to you!" It was so late before the girls finally settled down into their respective corners, that it seemed only about five minutes before they were awakened at daybreak by the most terrific tumult that ever smote the ears of slumbering innocence. Bang, bang! Boom, crash, bang! Shouts, yells, wild Comanche-like cries rent the ear, and punctuated the incessant booming that shook even the thick adobe walls of the nursery. Four terrified faces were raised simultaneously from four white beds, and four voices in chorus whispered: "What is it?" No one dared stir. Suddenly the door was burst open and in sprang a white-robed figure, hair flying, eyes wide with terror. Straight to Blue Bonnet's bed the spectre flew and leaped into the middle of it with a plump that made its occupant gasp. "Oh, girls, it's Indians!" wailed the newcomer; and then they saw that it was Sarah. "Indians?" exclaimed Blue Bonnet. "There aren't any Indians around here. Get off my chest and I'll go see." Casting off the bed-clothes and the startled Sarah at the same time, with one spring Blue Bonnet was at the window. What she saw there was hardly reassuring; the whole space between the house and the stables seemed to be filled with a howling, whirling mass of men. In the gray half-light of early dawn she could recognize no one. Suddenly a fresh explosion set the windows rattling; there was a hiss and a glare of red. In the glow she caught a glimpse of Alec; he held a revolver and was shooting it with sickening rapidity, not stopping to take aim. Blue Bonnet staggered back faint with horror, and the girls gathered fearfully about her. Uncle Cliff's voice giving an order came to them from outside. Blue Bonnet leaned out and shrieked--"Uncle, Uncle--what's the matter--oh, what is it?" Never had voice seemed so welcome as those calm, soothing tones, when Uncle Cliff replied: "Reckon you've forgotten what day it is, Honey." Blue Bonnet turned on the girls. "What--what day is it?" And the light from within was suddenly greater than that from without as they answered in a sheepish chorus: "The Fourth of July!" CHAPTER III THE GLORIOUS FOURTH "TO think that a crowd of New England girls, of all people, should forget the Fourth of July!" exclaimed Alec, when they met around the big breakfast table, later that morning. Sarah looked positively pained. "I never forgot it before in my whole life," she said plaintively. "But there have been so many new things to think of, and travelling, you know--" she ended lamely.