Presently he rushed back to the house with cheeks aflame and eyes ablaze with excitement. "They're coming!" he cried. "They're in sight down by the rocks. They see 'em marching, the men on the hill do!" "You don't mean that it's really true that the soldiers are coming here, _right into our town_!" cried Martha Moulton, rising in haste and bringing together, with rapid flourishes to right and to left, every fragment of silver on it. Divining her intent, Uncle John strove to hold fast his individual spoon, but she twitched it without ceremony out from his rheumatic old fingers, and ran next to the parlor cupboard, wherein lay her movable treasures. "What in the world shall I do with them?" she cried, returning with her apron well filled, and borne down by the weight thereof. "Give 'em to me," cried Joe. "Here's a basket. Drop 'em in, and I'll run like a brush-fire through the town and across the old bridge, and hide 'em as safe as a weasel's nap." Joe's fingers were creamy; his mouth was half filled with Johnny-cake, and his pocket on the right bulged to its utmost capacity with the same, as he held forth the basket; but the little woman was afraid to trust him, as she had been afraid to trust her neighbors. "No! No!" she replied, to his repeated offers. "I know what I'll do. You, Joe Devins, stay right where you are until I come back, and, don't you even _look_ out of the window." "Dear, dear me!" she cried, flushed and anxious when she was out of sight of Uncle John and Joe. "I _wish_ I'd given 'em to Colonel Barrett when he was here before daylight, only, I _was_ afraid I should never get sight of them again." She drew off one of her stockings, filled it, tied the opening at the top with a string--plunged stocking and all into a pail full of water and proceeded to pour the contents into the well. Just as the dark circle had closed over the blue stocking, Joe Devins' face peered down the depths by her side, and his voice sounded out the words: "O Mother Moulton, the British will search the wells the _very_ first thing. Of course, they _expect_ to find things in wells!" "Why didn't you tell me before, Joe? but now it is too late." "I would, if I had known what you was going to do; they'd been a sight safer in the honey tree." "Yes, and what a fool I've been--flung _my watch_ into the well with the spoons!" "Well, well! Don't stand there, looking!" as she hovered over the high curb, with her hand on the bucket. "Everybody will know, if you do." "Martha! Martha!" shrieked Uncle John's quavering voice from the house door. "Bless my heart!" she exclaimed, hurrying back over the stones. "What's the matter with your heart?" questioned Joe. "Nothing. I was thinking of Uncle John's money," she answered. "Has he got money?" cried Joe. "I thought he was poor, and you took care of him because you were so good!"