The terror that was depicted upon his countenance immediately ran through the whole company. And when they heard the whole tale of horror, amplified by the eloquence of excessive fright and confirmed by the oaths and protestations of Crawford, who swore that he had distinctly smelled the tawny skins and greasy blankets of the savages who had attacked him, no pen could describe their consternation. The thing appeared to be plain. A band of Indians, or perhaps British and Indians, had taken ambush in the bottom adjacent to the village and were only waiting for the dead of night, when they might rush in to plunder and massacre the defenseless inhabitants. The scalps and prisoners of some twenty or thirty families would be a rich booty when taken to Malden, and there was nothing to intercept the return of the depredators thither. In this conclusion all were agreed. And it was with sickening horror that the honest villager contemplated the plight of his family and the distress that was expected to take place soon. [Illustration: Crawford burst in upon them.] The alarm no sooner became general than the cry of “To garrison! To garrison!” passed from house to house; and in a few moments women and children might be seen clinging to their husbands, fathers, or brothers, making their utmost speed along the uneven pathways or streets that led to the town hall. Here might be seen all ages of both sexes—men, women, and children—stowed into the garrison. Some were expressing the utmost agony of fear; others were swelling with patriotism as danger seemed to hover around them; some were crying; some were laughing; some were swearing and drinking, reckless of the storm of war. And some, possessing more nerve and military presence of mind, were busily employed in mustering the forces of the town. The strong and commanding voice of Major Kratzer was frequently heard, as he calmly and decisively summoned the strong and able-bodied settlers. These came armed with rifles, shotguns, cutlasses, old swords, pitchforks, spears, clubs, and also tomahawks and scalping knives. The promptitude with which all classes assembled for their common defense, the roll of the drum and the shrill notes of the fife, the hoarse cry of “To horse!” by Captain Ankeny, and the sound of the tin trumpet—all had a tendency to dispel the gloom of the night and to excite in the bosoms of the inhabitants a sudden gleam of military ardor and confidence in their safety. Instances of heroic spirit were not wanting among the females, many of whom, though until recently unused to the sound of the tocsin, met the approach of danger with fortitude and a determined spirit of resistance. [Illustration: ... clinging to their husbands ...]