It was believed, probably rightly, by the assailants, that the old man was possessed of considerable money, brought with him from the old country. This lent incitement to their attack; while, if true, the fact was undoubtedly an additional motive on his part for keeping the invaders at a distance. Brave old Kepler was quite advanced in years. He was about three score and ten, but all the old valorous Teutonic blood in his veins was aroused, and he prepared to resist the spoilers even to the death, if need be. His wife, partner of his New World adventures and toils, had succumbed not long before to the frontier hardships and had passed on. He had one son, a chip of the old block, brave, strong, and inured to the rough Western life, equally interested with the father in carving out their fortunes in this new country, and in the making of their Western prairie home. And there was an only daughter, alike the support and solace of both father and brother;—the light, indeed, of the household and of the neighborhood. I must interpolate a word here, in passing, descriptive of this daughter,—the worthy heroine of the event, as we shall see. She was a light-haired, blond-complexioned young girl, with all the proverbial German fairness,—bright and handsome as a prairie flower. And she had the German habit of taking a share in the work in the open field. Often was she seen by the passers up and down the creek, "chopping in corn" (as they call it in the West),—keeping even step in the row with her robust brother; or now driving the cattle while he held the plough; then changing work with him, guiding the share while he drove the oxen. Her household duties, however, were not neglected meanwhile. Doubtless the brother, in return, here gave her a helping hand. Nowhere else on the road (as the writer can testify from personal experience) did the weary and hungry traveler find such bread as when thrown upon the Keplers' hospitality,—bread of this young girl's manufacture. Besides all this,—and appropriately to be said in this connection,—this fair maiden could handle a rifle on occasion, as we shall presently see. Such ability was often a quite useful accomplishment for the gentler sex on our wild Western border. It proved eminently so in the case before us. The yelling, hooting, and now drunken mob began at length to fire upon the cabin at its vulnerable points. The heroic inmates returned the shots through the holes between the logs in the loft, and not without effect. One of the assailants was seriously wounded and several others less so. The battle grew warm, the effusion of blood thus far serving only to increase the wild fury of the besiegers.