eed."

The five gave their most earnest assurances that they would stay, and
do all in their power. In fact, they had come for that very purpose.
Satisfied now that Colonel Butler and his officers had implicit faith in
them they went forth to find that, despite the night and the darkness,
fugitives were already crossing the river to seek refuge in Forty Fort,
bringing with them tales of death and devastation, some of which were
exaggerated, but too many true in all their hideous details. Men had
been shot and scalped in the fields, houses were burning, women and
children were captives for a fate that no one could foretell. Red ruin
was already stalking down the valley.

The farmers were bringing their wives and children in canoes and dugouts
across the river. Here and there a torch light flickered on the surface
of the stream, showing the pale faces of the women and children, too
frightened to cry. They had fled in haste, bringing with them only the
clothes they wore and maybe a blanket or two. The borderers knew too
well what Indian war was, with all its accompaniments of fire and the
stake.

Henry and his comrades helped nearly all that night. They secured a
large boat and crossed the river again and again, guarding the fugitives
with their rifles, and bringing comfort to many a timid heart. Indian
bands had penetrated far into the Wyoming Valley, but they felt sure
that none were yet in the neighborhood of Forty Fort.

It was about three o'clock in the morning when the last of the fugitives
who had yet come was inside Forty Fort, and the labors of the five, had
they so chosen, were over for the time. But their nerves were tuned to
so high a pitch, and they felt so powerfully the presence of danger,
that they could not rest, nor did they have any desire for sleep.

The boat in which they sat was a good one, with two pairs of oars. It
had been detailed for their service, and they decided to pull up the
river. They thought it possible that they might see the advance of the
enemy and bring news worth the telling. Long Jim and Tom Ross took the
oars, and their powerful arms sent the boat swiftly along in the shadow
of the western bank. Henry and Paul looked back and saw dim lights at
the fort and a few on either shore. The valley, the high mountain wall,
and everything else were merged in obscurity.

Both the youths were oppressed heavily by the sense of danger, not for
themselves, but for others. In that Kentucky