Shouldering his musket, which seemed to be his one valuable possession, the shoemaker led the two boys along the road to the woods. There he took a path that presently brought them to a little stream. The banks were covered with violets right down to the water's edge. "There's a cave in the bank a little farther up-stream," he said. "I'll show you some stepping-stones." They crossed by the stones and found the place where the bank revealed an opening. It was quite large enough to hold all that Peter wanted to stow away. "I'll make a door so no one will suspect it's there," said Gregory. He took out his knife, and hunting among the trees found several where the bark was covered with gray-green lichens. Stripping off these pieces of bark he brought them back to the cave. Then he took some narrow strips of leather from his pocket, such strips as shoemakers use for lacing, and making eyelets near the edges of the bark, he fastened them together with the lacings. This made a bark cover more than big enough to close the opening in the bank. Gregory set it in place, then trimmed the edges so that it fitted neatly. He dug up some of the clumps of violets and replanted them at the base of the bark door. "Now I'll defy any one to find that cave," he said. "It's the safest hiding-place in the province of Pennsylvania." "I'll mark a couple of trees so I can find it again," said Peter. With his knife he cut some notches in a couple of willows that bordered the stream. As they went back through the woods both boys noted the trail carefully, so that they might readily find it another time. On the road wagons and carriages passed them, people flying out of town through fear of the enemy. The shoemaker, his musket perched on his shoulder, in spite of his small size was the most martial figure to be seen. "I'm afraid our good folk are more bent on hiding than on fighting," Gregory said with a chuckle. "Well, perhaps I'd be the same if I had something to hide." "Do you think Mr. Hackett was right about our people not being ready to fight?" Jack asked. "I think it looks very much that way," said Gregory. "I've seen a lot of people on this road to-day, but not one with a gun." Leaving Gregory at his house, Jack and Peter walked east to the river and followed the foot-path along the Delaware. Skiffs, filled with household goods, were being rowed up-stream. Families were seeking refuge in the country north of town. Men and boys along the shore were calling words of advice or derision to the rivercraft. At one place a man was shouting, "There's the French frigates coming up on the Jersey side!" The rowers paddled faster, glancing back over their shoulders to see if the alarm was true. The man who had shouted and the others within hearing on the bank laughed at the rowers. The only boats on the Delaware appeared to be those manned by frightened householders.