"Tell us about that," I said. "War is always a terrible thing, but in those days it seems to have been more than usually savage and cruel. Take the capture of Deerfield, for example. The French commander in Canada sent three hundred soldiers to butcher the people in this little town, in order to make himself solid with some Indians. The attack occurred a little before daybreak, and some terrible scenes were enacted. I'll show you an old door up in Memorial Hall to-morrow, which went through that fight. It was so solid that they could not break it down. You will see where a hole was cut through it with axes and bullets. "That massacre occurred February 29, 1704, about two hundred years ago. Then came other French and Indian conflicts, until finally England triumphed. Later the United States Nation was born, and President Jefferson bought all of the American territory that France had left. "Everything is peaceful here now, but think how you would feel, to know that you might be surrounded by savages, fierce and bloodthirsty, creeping toward you in the darkness, without a sound, until near enough to strike, and then----" All of a sudden there came some awful yells and whoops that made our blood run cold, and a crashing in the bushes that sounded as if all kinds of Indians were after us. We jumped to our feet and looked, even Mr. Norton. Benny grabbed tight hold of my hand, and I could see Skinny feeling around in the grass for his hatchet. Then it came again, nearer than before, only worse and over to one side. It was awful. I don't know about Mr. Norton, but the rest of us were just going to run, when the yell ended with three caws, like a crow in the Bellows Pipe at home. "Shucks!" said Skinny, in disgust. "It's only Bill Wilson!" We camped there on the river bank nearly a week and never had more fun in our lives, boating, fishing, swimming, doing Scout stunts and playing Scout games, and, with it all, eating our heads off, almost. I can't remember every little thing that we did there, and the boys say that it will be all right to skip that part in writing this history. There didn't anything much happen, anyhow, although Mrs. Wade was sure some of us would get drowned and even Ma told us that she would not feel real easy in her mind until we were at home again. "We'll go a little earlier than we intended," said Mr. Norton, when it was getting near the time for going back. "I want to see some more of that beautiful Deerfield valley, before the river leaves the mountains. Perhaps we might do a little exploring on our own account." We came in sight of Florida Mountain on our homeward trip, not far from Hoosac Tunnel. The longest part was behind us, but the hardest part, the climb over the mountain, was ahead.