“I see no good reason why we should push across the river yet awhile, for there is as much distress this side as yonder. Let us make our way to the settlement of Wilkesbarre, and see what can be found.” “The dwellings were all burned, as I have told you, and we shall find nothing but ruins,” Daniel replied. “And it is among the ruins we should look for those whom we would aid,” Stephen Morley said, curtly. “It must be there are some portions of the buildings yet remaining, however complete the work of destruction, and my proposition is that we search in turn each of the settlements, taking plenty of time for the work, because there is no reason why we try to cover any great extent of territory immediately.” Now it must be understood that we were come to the river between Fort Ogden and the stockade at Wilkesbarre, known as Wyoming Fort, therefore, in order to carry out Master Morley’s suggestion, it was necessary we travel down-stream perhaps a mile and a half, and this required but a short time, since we were no longer traversing the wilderness, but a beaten road. On arriving at the site of the settlement, we found that Daniel Hinchman had not drawn upon his imagination when he told us of its destruction. In the night the blackened ruins of the settlers’ homes spoke more eloquently of the wilful havoc that had been wrought than if the sun was shining upon them, and as we went past this pile of yet smouldering embers or the other, saying that here lived one friend and there that neighbor, our hearts heavy with grief, it was difficult indeed to repress audible evidences of our sorrow. To me the strangest of it all was that we six had been permitted to pass through so much of danger, and yet come out unharmed. It was necessary we go the entire length of what had been the settlement before arriving at the fort, and why Stephen Morley should have led us so far I could not understand. He had no real purpose in so doing, as I believed, for, when we were come within sight of the stockade, finding it untouched by the flames, he gave vent to an exclamation of astonishment, and Master Bartlett said, warningly, as he halted: “Have a care, lads, lest we come suddenly upon too large a force of the enemy. It must be they have taken possession of the stockade, else why has it been spared?” “I will make it my business to find out whether there be any of John Butler’s crew in this vicinity,” Giles March whispered hurriedly. “Wait you here until I come back.” We had halted near by the ruins of Phineas Barnes’s dwelling, and there were yet enough of the timbers standing to make a fairly good hiding-place for us within the deep shadow. There we crouched until five minutes had passed, when we heard Giles crying: “Come on, the stockade is deserted, and it strikes me we can find no better place in which to spend the night.”