"Friend Jack" (says he), "this Bush is a desert indeed and all run off,--the Tories to Canady,--such as the Helmers, Cadys, Bowmans, Reeds, and the likes,--save Adam Helmer, who is of our complexion,--and our own people who are friends to liberty have fled to Johnstown excepting me,--all the women and children,--Jean De Silver's family, De Luysnes' people, the Salisburys, Scotts, Barbara Stoner, who married Conrad Reed and has gone to New York now; and all the Putmans save myself, who shall go presently in fear of the savages and Sir John. "Sir, it is sad to see our housen empty and our fields fallow, and weeds growing in plowed land. There remain no longer any cattle or fowls or any beasts at all, only the wild poultry of the woods come to the deserted doorsteps, and the red fox runs along the fence. "Your house stands empty as it was when you marched away. Only squirrels inhabit it now, and porcupines gnaw the corn-crib. "Well, friend Jack, this is all I have to say. I shall drive my oxen to Johnstown Fort tomorrow, and give this letter to the first runner or express. "I learn that you have bought the Summer House of the Commission. I wish you joy of it, but it seems a perilous purchase, and I fear that you shall soon be obliged to leave it. "So, wishing you health, and beholden to you for many kindnesses--as are we all who come from Fonda's Bush--I close, sir, with respect and my obedience and duty to my brave young friend who serves liberty that we old folk and our women and children shall not perish or survive as British slaves. "Sir, awaiting the dread onset of Sir John with that firmness which becomes a good American, I am, "Your obliged and humble servant, "JOHN PUTMAN. The Oneida left in an hour for Ty. And it was, I think, an hour later when Nick comes a-running to find me. "A fire at Fish House," he cries, "and a dense smoke mounting to the sky!" I flung aside my letter, ran to the kitchen, and called Penelope. "Pack up and be ready to leave!" said I. And, to Nick: "Saddle Kaya and be ready to take Penelope a-horse to Mayfield block-house. Call my Indian!" As I belted my shirt and stood ready, my Saguenay came swiftly, trailing his rifle. "Come," said I, "we must learn why that smoke towers yonder to the sky." Penelope took me by the sleeve: "Do nothing rash, John Drogue," she said in a breathless way. "Get you ready for flight," said I, fixing a fresh flint. "Nick shall run at your stirrup if it comes to that pinch----" "But _you_!" "Why, I am well enough; and if the Iroquois are at Fish House then I retreat through Varick's, and so by Fonda's Bush to Mayfield Fort." She clasped her hands. "I do not wish to leave Summer House," she said pitifully. "What is to happen to our sheep and cattle--and to our fowls and all our stores--and to Summer House itself?"