Full fifty yards, from the edge of the thicket to the small gate of the stockade, we must run exposed to the full view of those who might follow, and Giles said, as we slackened our pace before bursting out of the bushes: “It were better we separated than ran in a bunch, for of a verity are we to be their targets now.” As he said, so we did. Each for himself, and, twelve or fifteen yards apart, we started on that race with death. It seemed to me as if I had no more than left the cover of the bushes when the muskets began to sound, and, before half the distance was covered, it was as if no less than an hundred were shooting at me; but I came to understand afterward that this multiplicity of reports arose from the fact that our friends within the stockade were keeping up quite as heavy a fusillade as were the Mohawks. And now for that which seems almost beyond belief: We three lads covered the distance in the open, where we afforded the best targets to our pursuers, gaining the shelter of the fort without having been scratched by a bullet, and that when, I dare venture to say, no less than fifty missiles were sent after us by the excited foe whom we had outwitted so completely. Once inside, with the gate barred behind us, I fell forward on my face, unable to move or speak, so thoroughly exhausted was I by the excitement and the exertion, and for a time I knew nothing whatsoever, until becoming dimly conscious that Master Bartlett was bending over me, saying: “You have accomplished that this night, Jonathan Ogden, which I doubt if any man in the valley could have done, and, if our people at Wilkesbarre do not come to know of the courage and self-sacrifice you have shown in behalf of your comrades, it will be because I can no longer wag my tongue.” “The others, where are they?” I managed to ask, and with speech came power of motion, until I stood upright. “All are safe, lad, that is--you three who went out, and two who came back ahead of you.” “Do you mean Oscar Stephenson and John Coburn?” “Ay, lad.” “And what of the other two? Were they killed?” “Oscar claims that they must be at liberty, for, when the savages first appeared, the others made for the river, evidently counting on swimming across, and therefore, while there are two Minute Boys of the Wyoming Valley who will not answer to the roll just now, it is probable they are yet alive. I would not have believed, when you left, that twenty men could have rescued those lads who were so near the stake, and am burning to know how it was done.”