"I hear. You women get in the middle room, and don't go near a window. Uncle Tom is getting the muskets ready for the assault." Peggy ran back to close the shutter of the window she had opened, but could not forego a glance downward as she did so. The men, satisfied that nothing would be left of the barn, were now advancing stealthily toward the house, each bearing a lighted pine-knot. The girl's heart beat pitifully as she divined their intention, which was obviously to set fire to the dwelling. She closed the shutter tightly, and then awakened Sally. "Can't we do something?" whispered Sally, after the women and the two girls had waited in breathless suspense for a few moments. "This waiting in the dark is terrifying. I shall scream if I can't do something." Before a reply could be made there came a snort of terror from the lean-to, and a shout of triumph broke from the raiders as the snorting discovered the whereabouts of the horses. A ripping, tearing sound betokening that the boards were being torn from the improvised stable to get at the animals followed. A roar of rage burst from Farmer Ashley. "At 'em, nevvy," he cried. "They're after the horses. He who shoots first has the advantage of the enemy." The young captain's reply was a shot from his musket. A howl of anger rose from the attackers as the report of Thomas Ashley's gun followed quickly. The two men then ran to other windows and began firing, endeavoring by quick shifting of position to give the impression that a large force was in the house. There were six muskets altogether, and one was placed by each window. "This is work for us," said Nurse Johnson calmly, as the women and girls in answer to Sally's plea came down-stairs. "We can load while you two do the shooting. Peggy, do you stay with me while Mary and Sally take that side." There ensued several minutes of brisk work from without as well as within, and bullets came spitefully through windows and doors. Presently Mary Ashley spoke shrilly: "Father, where is the cartridge paper? There are no more cartridges made up." "I don't know, mother," shouted Mr. Ashley successfully dodging a bullet that came through a shutter. "Ask nevvy." But Fairfax turned a look of consternation on his aunt. "If there are no more cartridges in the pouch we are done for," he said. "There's plenty of powder and ball, but I don't know where to lay hand to wadding." "Any sort of paper will do, Mary," interposed Nurse Johnson. "Get a book." Paper was a scarce commodity in those times, and few houses, especially country houses, kept it in quantity. Books were rarer still, so now Mrs. Ashley spoke with the calmness of despair: "There isn't a book on the place. I let----" "Wait a minute," cried Peggy. "I have one." She ran up the stairs as she finished speaking and soon returned, a book in her hand. "Oh, Peggy," wailed Sally, "'tis thy diary. And how will the girls ever know what hath befallen us without it?"