Brown and I listened to the klick of the horse's feet as they made the turn down through the dark timber valley, then ascending the hill the klicking grew fainter until they passed over the brow of the hill, when it ceased altogether. "Listen," said I to Brown, "the long wooden bridge we came over is not more than two miles away," and as we waited the rumbling thunder from old Jim's heels on the bridge assured us that Vida's lonely midnight ride up the Adirondack Mountains would soon be over, and so it was, for she left the hemlock grove on Jobe's Hill at just 11:30 and bounced into her waiting mother's arms at home at 12:15, making the 17 miles in 45 minutes, which she always refers to as her glorious midnight ride. OWEN BROWN'S STORY "Soon after you left us at the Kennedy Farm we were startled by the rumor that the authorities were about to come down upon us, so we decided to seize the arsenal Sunday night. "Father routed us out earlier than usual for our family worship on Sunday morning, and all of us knelt together for the last time. "Now Oliver and Watson are dead, father is to be hanged tomorrow, I am a fugitive with a large reward over me and most of the others are either dead or soon will be. "We left Kennedy Farm at dusk Sunday, October 16, 1859. In our party there were, besides father; Watson, Oliver and I, Marriam, the two Coppic boys, Cook, Tidd, Kagi, Taylor, Bill Thompson, Hazlett, Copeland, Leary, Greene, Anderson and several other men. "Father rode in the wagon and the others walked two by two, all but Marriam, Cook, Barclay, Coppic and myself, who were left to guard the arms and other effects until we heard from the raid. "Tidd came out to us in the morning stating that the battle was going on fiercely and that our men were being hemmed in on all sides. Then he reported that more than fifty had been killed, the Mayor of Harper's Ferry had been shot, and Watson and Oliver were dead; so, upon this report we decided to flee from the scene and leave all behind. "We hastily ate and fixed up as much lunch as we could carry, when Marriam, Coppic, Cook, Tidd and myself ran across the country to Maryland Heights, where we could view the scene but could not help. "At first we saw no troops, but hundreds of men from behind trees, rocks and buildings firing at our men, who, as yet, held the town. We could see father, with sword in hand, walking about apparently encouraging the men. "Soon we saw a squad of more than a hundred soldiers leave the bridge and march down the street towards father and his few men, and could see father begin preparing for the onslaught. "When they were about two hundred feet distant father apparently gave the word to fire, and it was kept up until two of our men and more than twenty of their troop lay dead in the street, while their live ones retreated in confusion to the covered bridge from whence they came.