The interview was brought to a sudden end when the reports of half a dozen muskets were heard from the other side of the river, and we could see the glow of a fire which increased each moment until the flames were leaping high in the air. “They have discovered that the canoes are missing,” the colonel said, hurriedly. “It is time for you to go, and I will get inside the walls, for, because of their failure to take any prisoners, our people may be in danger.” Even as he spoke the colonel left us, keeping within the line of shadow as he approached the stockade, and we started off at our best pace, for the red wolves, seeing the call for help on the other side of the river, were swarming out of the fort like bees from a hive. Now had come the time when we had need of all our wits to save our skins, owing to the fact that it was necessary to advance directly down-stream where was no shelter. Except for the darkness we could never have gained that place where the canoes had been hidden, because Indians and Tories were running to and fro in greatest excitement, and more than once were we on the verge of being discovered. However, we did succeed in embarking, and then it was necessary to paddle down-stream, keeping within the denser shadows of the western shore a mile or more, before venturing to cross. When, finally, we stood near the ruins of Eben Towle’s home, the signal-fire was yet burning, and Master Bartlett said, in a tone of satisfaction: “The cowards at Forty Fort haven’t yet made up their minds that it is safe for them to cross. Because of what we have done the whole boiling of them are grown exceeding cautious, even though knowing full well they have butchered nearly all in the valley.” “And they will kill yet more before the women and children can be got across to this stockade,” Stephen Morley added gloomily. “Those who have declared they will not follow John Butler any longer are hanging back only that they may slaughter the helpless ones in the fort, and will not allow them to go away in peace.” Such words were only in accord with what had come into my mind while Colonel Dennison was talking so glibly of our holding the Wilkesbarre stockade, when we had no more than seven muskets with which to arm the defenders. There was no good reason why we should stand outside where, at any moment, we might be discovered by those whose canoes had been destroyed, and Master Bartlett led the way into the tunnel, where we were welcomed as if after a long absence. As a matter of course we told of all we had seen and heard since going out, and it was Mistress Morley who picked the first flaw in Colonel Dennison’s plan. “If all the people come over into this stockade, where will you find food enough to feed them during such time as the colonel is searching for those who may be willing to aid us?” she asked, and I, who had been thinking only of the lack of weapons, cried thoughtlessly: