The old woman’s eyes almost started out of their sockets, two great tears burst from them--and then the door opened and Gray Eagle re-entered, carrying the rolled blanket. He laid it in the cradle without comment, and went out, closing the door behind him. Presently there came a distant sound that made Mistress Estill shrink and quiver--the triumphant scalp-halloo of the Iroquois, receding. Then silence reigned. There was no sound from the cradle. Granny had long ceased to struggle. The candle guttered and went out; the embers on the hearth died into blackness. Night passed. * * * * * With the first faint gray of dawn, galloping hoofs approached, then the voice of Ezra Todd was to be heard calling strongly: “Polly, Polly, my wife! I am here, coming.” A short, sharp cry, and Ezra appeared in the doorway, grasping at the sides of it like one spent. [Illustration: Ezra appeared in the doorway, grasping the side as if spent. “Dark in here, dark,” he muttered. “Polly, are you here?”] “Dark in here, dark,” he muttered. “I must make a light--oh, my God, I dare not! Polly, _Polly_, are you here?” His voice rose to a cry, then steadied itself. “What chance, with the negro dead, and an Indian body in the yard! They were in haste, to have left that. Oh, damn them!” He was moving about like a drunken man, feeling for the candle. Granny made a slight sound. He started violently. “What’s that? Not all dead? Oh, quick, quick!” His shaking hand managed at last to strike a spark from the tinder box. The candle flared. He leaped toward the old woman. “Ah-h! Only you! What have they done with her? Where is my wife? But you can’t speak yet, of course not! Patience, man, patience.” Thus exhorting himself, he removed the gag, loosened her, brought water, liquor, all in a terrible, clumsy haste, muttering as he worked. “They told me at Cook’s that Indian canoes had been seen. I turned back, rode all night--the mare’s foundered. But too late. Ben killed, Polly gone--where, where? Ah! Now you can speak. Quick, woman!” Granny struggled for her voice. Perhaps she was also struggling for time to collect her wits. “Come, come, in mercy’s name!” groaned Ezra. “Tell me at least if they got Polly!” Granny nodded, gulping. “And the child--they took the baby, too?” Granny shook her head, pointing a tremulous hand toward the cradle at which she did not look. “So! They separated my poor lass from her child? The hell hounds! And now, which way? Answer me!” In hysterical impatience he shook her. “Tell me which _way_ they went, up or down stream?” The old woman gulped and gurgled unintelligibly, and he sprang away as if he could bear no more. “If you won’t help me, I must go. I’m sorry for you, I will send neighbors--but I must go!” Granny made a hoarse effort: “Go--where?” “Where? In God’s name! To find my wife.” “No use,” croaked Granny.