"The Indians are marching west," Fred whispered to his sister, "this is a troop of women and children. That means that the warriors are ahead of them. We are lucky to be informed of their movements, because we can now follow a definite course." Agnes nodded, as she intently looked upon the passing horses and people. The women and children were in a jolly mood, and did not make any efforts to keep silence. For about half an hour the Indians were moving along the road. Suddenly Agnes gave a start, and nimbly as a squirrel she slid down the huge tree, were she crept silently through the brush. Soon Fred heard the hooting of an owl, and he perceived how at this cry one of the Indian girls, of the age of Agnes, detached herself from the crowd. "It is time for me to join," he muttered to him self; "Sister cannot attend to that alone." In a few moments he was near enough to hear what the girls were talking about. The girl was one of the Sunday school scholars whom Agnes had befriended by many acts of kindness. "Pequots---go---west," she said to Agnes; "will go around big bend south and come back and take settlements. 'Little bird of the woods' go to big log house, and take boat and tell white men at Hartword. But quick, I must go." In a few moment she was off, treading softly over the grass and joining the other Indians, as if nothing serious had happened. At once Agnes stood by her brother's side. "The path is clear, Fred," she breathed to "now for the horses; we are not far away from the trading post." They reached the log house just as the sun was setting, but as they approached, Matthew emitted a cry of despair. "The Indians have burned down the log house," he said sadly. "The smoke is still breaking through the woods." Cautiously they made their way through the woods, and soon stood beside the remains of their log house, where during the previous year they had spent so many happy hours. "What a pity," Agnes said; "so this is the fruit of war and hatred." Tears welled into her eyes. "And our Sunday school classes have become our enemies, no doubt," Matthew reflected; "all of love's labor is lost." "War destroys, and peace builds up," Fred spoke calmly; "we must expect all this, and more. The end is not yet." "What do you mean?" Agnes asked as she watched her brother's furrowed brow. "Do you expect trouble?" "The Indians who burned this log house, are not far away," he whispered to her. "We must try to get to Hartford before they detect us." "Let's talk it over quickly," Matthew suggested who in hours of danger was always impatient. "Yes, let's do that," Agnes assented; "we'll hide our horses in the deep woods along the river. I know a fine place, where we may conceal ourselves." "How about our boat?" Matthew asked. "Wouldn't it be better if we go to Hartford by way of the river?"