"A pretty time we'll have celebrating to-day," said Polly, to herself, dipping the corner of her apron into the brook and wiping her heated face with it, as she hurried to the house. Meanwhile, her brother was running and shouting after the man who had ridden off in such haste. As Polly entered the house the big brick oven stood wide open, and it was filled to the door with a roaring fire. On the long table stood loaves of bread almost ready for the oven. Her sister Sybil was putting apple pies on the same table. Sybil was a beautiful girl of twenty years, much admired and greatly beloved in the region. "What is Ethel about so long this morning, that I have his work to do, I wonder!" exclaimed Mr. Thomas Porter, as he lifted himself from the capacious fire-place in which he had been piling birch-wood under the crane--from which hung in a row three big iron pots. "It is a pretty hot morning, and the sun is powerful on the hill, father," said Mrs. Mehitable Porter in reply--not seeing Polly, who stood panting and glowing with all the importance of having great news to tell. "Father," cried Polly, "where is Truman and the men? Send 'em! send 'em everywhere!" "What's the matter? what's the matter, child?" exclaimed Mr. Porter, while his wife and Sybil stood in alarm. At that instant Ethel sprang in, crying out, "The militia! The militia! They want the militia." "What for, and _who_ wants the men?" asked his father. "I don't know. He didn't stop to tell. He said: 'Get out the militia! Don't lose a minute!' and then rode on." "Father, _I know_," said Polly. "He told _me_. The British ships, more than forty of them, are landing soldiers at New Haven. President Stiles saw them at daybreak from the college tower with his spy-glass." Before Polly had ceased to speak, Ethel was off. Within the next ten minutes six horses had set forth from the Porter house--each rider for a special destination. "I'll give the alarm to the Hopkinses," cried back Polly from her pony, as she disappeared in the direction of Hopkins Hill. "And I'll stir up Deacon Gideon and all the Hotchkisses from the Captain over and down," said ten-year-old Stephen, as he mounted. "You'd better make sure that Sergeant Calkins and Roswell hear the news. Tell Captain Terrell to get out his Ring-bone company, and don't forget Captain John and Abraham Lewis, Lieutenant Beebe, and all the rest. It isn't much use to go over the river--not much help _we'd_ get, however much the British might, on that side," advised Mr. Porter, as the fourth messenger departed.