Well, the result of it was that as soon as night came Elias crept secretly away, for we were not minded any of our comrades should know of the work in hand, lest they be eager to have a share in what was certainly a hazardous venture, since we knew full well that Wintermoot’s people would not hesitate to kill any whom they might find spying upon them. I went with him to the small gate of the stockade, for it must be remembered that these so-called forts in the valley were really nothing but blockhouses enclosed in a fence of logs, and, watching his opportunity when none was looking, he went out, saying, as he did so: “I shall be back before sunrise, if I come at all.” “Ay, lad, but you must come!” I cried. As if seized with a certain timorousness at the intimation in his own words of the danger which was to be faced, he made no reply, and suddenly was swallowed up in the gloom. Not until he had departed from view did I fully realize how hazardous might be this venture which he was making, and asked myself whether it was warranted. Such speculations should have been indulged in before he left me, but it must be remembered that I was very far from being a soldier, and too prone to consider first my own wishes and then the advisability of doing this or that thing. Clambering up on the logs which were fastened inside the stockade perhaps three or four feet below the top, in order that the sentinels might have a secure foothold, I strained my eyes in the direction of that nest of Tories, as if expecting to see some one emerge from the thicket, and then suddenly was like to have cried aloud in surprise, for a dark form came swiftly toward the main gate of the stockade, crouching as if expecting to be followed by a bullet. “Who’s there?” I whispered, leaning over the top of the logs without realizing that I was exposing myself to possible death, and proving that I possessed very little of that caution which the captain of a company should display. The stranger made no reply, but continued to advance, and again I hailed him, crying out that I would shoot unless he explained his purpose. Whereupon he halted, throwing himself flat upon the ground, as does one who knows there are enemies on his trail, and asked, in a low, hoarse whisper: “Who are you?” “Jonathan Ogden,” I replied, “captain of the Minute Boys of Wyoming Valley, and we are holding this fort.” “Let me in! I beg you to let me in!” he cried. “I have twice been within a hand’s breadth of death, and the savages are close behind.” As a matter of course, my comrades in the fort had heard this conversation, for we were so lately come as to be on the alert for the lightest token of danger. Therefore it was I had simply to give the word that the smaller gate be unbarred, at the same moment that I leaped down and stood ready to receive the stranger, as well as any who might take the chance of following him.