When I came into the cleared land, I perceived Mrs. Bowman washing clothing in a spring near the door of her log house, and the wash a-bleaching in the early sun. When she saw me she called to me across the clearing: "Have you news for me, John Drogue?" "None," said I. "Where is your man, Martha?" "Gone away to Stoner's with pack and rifle. He is but just departed. Is it only a drill call, or are the Indians out at the Lower Castle?" "I know nothing," said I. "Are you alone in the house?" "A young kinswoman, Penelope Grant, servant to old Douw Fonda, arrived late last night with my man from Caughnawaga, and is still asleep in the loft." As she spoke a girl, clothed only in her shift, came to the open door of the log house. Her naked feet were snow-white; her hair, yellow as October-corn, seemed very thick and tangled. She stood blinking as though dazzled, the glory of the rising sun in her face; then the tolling of the tocsin swam to her sleepy ears, and she started like a wild thing when a shot is fired very far away. And, "What is that sound?" she exclaimed, staring about her; and I had never seen a woman's eyes so brown under such yellow hair. She stepped out into the fresh grass and stood in the dew listening, now gazing at the woods, now at Martha Bowman, and now upon me. Speech came to me with an odd sort of anger. I said to Mrs. Bowman, who stood gaping in the sunshine: "Where are your wits? Take that child into the house and bar your shutters and draw water for your tubs. And keep your door bolted until some of the militia can return from Stoner's." "Oh, my God," said she, and fell to snatching her wash from the bushes and grass. At that, the girl Penelope turned and looked at me. And I thought she was badly frightened until she spoke. "Young soldier," said she, "do you know if Sir John has fled?" "I know nothing," said I, "and am like to learn less if you women do not instantly go in and bar your house." "Are the Mohawks out?" she asked. "Have I not said I do not know?" "Yes, sir.... But I should have escort by the shortest route to Cayadutta----" "You talk like a child," said I, sharply. "And you seem scarcely more," I added, turning away. But I lingered still to see them safely bolted in before I departed. "Soldier," she began timidly; but I interrupted: "Go fill your tubs against fire-arrows," said I. "Why do you loiter?" "Because I have great need to return to Caughnawaga. Will you guide me the shortest way by the woods?" "Do you not hear that bell?" I demanded angrily. "Yes, sir, I hear it. But I should go to Cayadutta----" "And I should answer that militia call," said I impatiently. "Go in and lock the house, I tell you!" Mrs. Bowman, her arms full of wet linen, ran into the house. The girl, Penelope, gazed at the woods. "I am servant to a very old man," she said, twisting her linked fingers. "I can not abandon him! I can not let him remain all alone at Cayadutta Lodge. Will you take me to him?"