y many more.

For awhile the fire seemed victorious, but, by brave effort, it was
finally overcome, and the court-house saved.

At a distance Joe Devins had noticed the smoke hovering like a little
cloud, then sailing away still more like a cloud over the town; and he
had made haste to the scene, arriving in time to venture on the roof,
and do good service there.

After the fire was extinguished, he thought of Martha Moulton, and he
could not help feeling a bit guilty at the consciousness that he had
gone off and left her alone.

Going to the house he found her entertaining the king's troopers with
the best food her humble store afforded.

She was so charmed with herself, and so utterly well pleased with the
success of her pleading, that the little woman's nerves fairly
quivered with jubilation; and best of all, the blue stocking was
still safe in the well, for had she not watched with her own eyes
every time the bucket was dipped to fetch up water for the fire,
having, somehow, got rid of the vow she had taken regarding the
drawing of the water.

As she saw the lad looking, with surprised countenance, into the room
where the feast was going on, a fear crept up her own face and darted
out from her eyes. It was, lest Joe Devins should spoil it all by
ill-timed words.

She made haste to meet him, basket in hand.

"Here, Joe," she said, "fetch me some small wood, there's a good
boy."

As she gave him the basket she was just in time to stop the rejoinder
that was issuing from his lips.

In time to intercept his return she was at the wood-pile.

"Joe," she said, half-abashed before the truth that shone in the boy's
eyes--"Joe," she repeated, "you know Major Pitcairn ordered the fire
put out, _to please me_, because I begged him so, and, in return, what
_can_ I do but give them something to eat? Come and help me."

"I won't," responded he. "Their hands are red with blood. They've
killed two men at the bridge."

"Who's killed?" she asked, trembling, but Joe would not tell her. He
demanded to know what had been done with Uncle John.

"He's quiet enough, up-stairs," she replied, with a sudden spasm of
feeling that she _had_ neglected Uncle John shamefully; still, with
the day, and the fire and everything, how could she help it? but,
really, it did seem strange that he made no noise, with a hundred
armed men coming and going through the house.

At least, that was what Joe thought, and, having deposited the bas