“Not to the extent of showing it, Master Bartlett; but you must remember that the Minute Boys are young at this business which John Butler calls war, and it would not be surprising if more than one felt a tremor of fear at knowing that all the miserable horde from Johnson Hall were assembling here.” “Ay, lad, true,” the old man said, half to himself, and he added, in a louder tone, “Think you it will be possible to hold your own, in case of an attack?” “That you should be better able to judge than I, Master Bartlett. The stockade is larger. With Elias gone, we number but twenty-one, and if a determined attack be made on all sides, then of a verity must we go under; but, I pledge you this, that unless the people in the settlement below can have ample warning of what may be in store for them, we shall fight without thought of preserving our own lives, in the hope of saving them.” “That’s the right kind of talk, lad, and it does me good in these times when there are so many croaking as to the impossibility of our standing against those who will come down on us. I will go into the fort with you, since Elias Shendle is doing that which I would have done,” and he started on, I detaining him only long enough to explain the danger which lay before us. From this moment, and until we were come within sight of the stockade, neither he nor I spoke. There was so much of difficulty in the task that we could not afford to spend any moments in conversation, and I believe we traversed not less than six miles in making a distance of no more than two, so many détours were we forced to make, in order to avoid the red scouts who were flitting here, there, and everywhere, as it seemed, through the forest. Never before had I seen so many Indians in such a small extent of territory, and all of them on the war-path. That we did succeed in getting within view of the stockade without an encounter, now seems to me almost marvellous; but it was destined that when we believed the more perilous portion of the enterprise was past, did the dangers thicken. [Illustration: “I WAS ABLE TO GET A GRIP UPON THE NAKED MURDERER’S THROAT.”] In my eagerness to make certain the Minute Boys were not in more danger than at the time of my leaving them, I pressed forward eagerly to get a clear view of the fortification through the foliage, counting on the possibility of attracting the attention of those on guard, and, just as I was parting the leaves in front of me, a sharp ray of light, as if glinted from a surface of steel, caught my eye. Instinctively, although not realizing all the peril, I swerved aside, catching in my left hand the trunk of a sapling, swinging half around and coming up erect, only to find myself facing a venomous Mohawk, who had raised his hatchet to strike.