"We haven't met tonight to settle personal grievances," he said, letting his eyes slowly wander to the men surrounding him. "These can be left to another time an' place. Our business tonight is to strike another blow for our just cause, and the New Pike gate is the one to go down. Let those who are not cowards follow me. To your horses, boys!" CHAPTER X. A little before eight o'clock, while the young girl was still busied in the kitchen with the supper dishes, for on court days this meal was always a late one, Squire Bixler again passed through the New Pike gate on his way to town. Sally's mother raised the gate for him, and curious to know the cause of his speedy return, straightway began to ply him with questions. When she came into the house after he had ridden on, the seal of secrecy being the price the Squire required of her for the information he had imparted, she heaved so deep a sigh, and looked so full of melancholy forebodings that her daughter quickly inquired the cause. "Nothin'," answered the old woman evasively, but the tone and her actions suggested quite the contrary. Indeed, her face bore the unmistakable impression of an impending disaster. The girl's curiosity was at once aroused and piqued by her mother's bearing and words. "But there is certainly something troubling you," insisted Sally. "You look quite put out." "Well," admitted the other grudgingly, "perhaps I am." "Then what's the matter?" "I'm under solemn promise not to tell anybody, not even you, but when a person don't know what minute they're liable to lose the very shelter over their heads, it's high time for dismal looks I should say." "Are we in any such danger?" asked the girl quickly. "I'm not sayin' as we air or ain't," yet the speaker gave a most gloomy shake of her head along with the noncommittal answer. "But you act like something serious was the matter." "I can't well help showin' what's on my mind, I suppose." "Then why on earth don't you say what's troubling you?" "When you're told a thing, an' then told positively not to tell it, how is a person to do?" asked Mrs. Brown in dire perplexity. Her pledge to the Squire was already beginning to weigh heavily upon her. "I don't see why you hesitate to tell me," said Sally emphatically; "I'm not a child that can't be trusted with a secret." "I don't see the harm myself in your knowin' it," acknowledged her mother, "and that, too, when you'd be sure to find it out in a mighty little while, for as soon as the guards come, you'd know that somethin' was wrong." "The guards?" echoed the girl. "Then it's something about the raiders?" "I didn't say," answered her mother with exasperating evasiveness. "But it is," cried the girl. "Surely I've quite as much right to know as you. Don't it concern me equally as much?" "Of course, but then the Squire didn't seem to want to make you uneasy any sooner than was necessary. That's why he cautioned me about tellin' you, I suppose."