did not pause
to watch them, but ran swiftly back to the house. Henry was at the door.

"Come in," he said briefly, and they entered. Then he closed the door
and dropped the bar into place. Shif'less Sol and Paul were already
inside, one sitting on the chair and the other on the edge of the bed.
Some coals, almost hidden under ashes, smoldered and cast a faint light
in the room, the only one that the house had, although it was divided
into two parts by a rough homespun curtain. Henry opened one of the
window shutters a little and looked out. The dawn had not yet come, but
it was not a dark night, and he looked over across the little clearing
to the trees beyond. On that side was a tiny garden, and near the wall
of the house some roses were blooming. He could see the glow of pink and
red. But no enemy bad yet approached. Searching the clearing carefully
with those eyes of his, almost preternaturally keen, he was confident
that the Indians were still in the woods. He felt an intense thrill of
satisfaction at the success of his plan so far.

He was not cruel, he never rejoiced in bloodshed, but the borderer alone
knew what the border suffered, and only those who never saw or felt the
torture could turn the other cheek to be smitten. The Standish house had
made a sudden and ominous change of tenants.

"It will soon be day," said Henry, "and farmers are early risers. Kindle
up that fire a little, will you, Sol? I want some smoke to come out of
the chimney."

The shiftless one raked away the ashes, and put on two or three pieces
of wood that lay on the hearth. Little flames and smoke arose. Henry
looked curiously about the house. It was the usual cabin of the
frontier, although somewhat larger. The bed on which Shif'less Sol sat
was evidently that of the father and mother, while two large ones behind
the curtain were used by the children. On the shelf stood a pail half
full of drinking water, and by the side of it a tin cup. Dried herbs
hung over the fireplace, and two or three chests stood in the corners.
The clothing of the children was scattered about. Unprepared food for
breakfast stood on a table. Everything told of a hasty flight and its
terrible need. Henry was already resolved, but his heart hardened within
him as he saw.

He took the hatchet from his belt and cut one of the hooks for the
door bar nearly in two. The others said not a word. They had no need
to speak. They understood everything that he did. He ope