shot came down the wind, and a
half a score of women stampeded through the stalks, carrying me down like
a reed before them. When I staggered to my feet Polly Ann and Mrs. Cowan
and Mrs. Harrod were standing alone. For there was little of fear in
those three.

"Shucks!" said Mrs. Cowan, "I reckon it's that Jim Ray shooting at a
mark," and she began to pick nettles again.

"Vimmen is a shy critter," remarked Swein Poulsson, coming up. I had a
shrewd notion that he had run with the others.

"Wimmen!" Mrs. Cowan fairly roared. "Wimmen! Tell us how ye went in
March with the boys to fight the varmints at the Sugar Orchard, Swein!"

We all laughed, for we loved him none the less. His little blue eyes
were perfectly solemn as he answered:--

"Ve send you fight Injuns mit your tongue, Mrs. Cowan. Then we haf no
more troubles."

"Land of Canaan!" cried she, "I reckon I could do more harm with it than
you with a gun."

There were many such false alarms in the bright days following, and never
a bullet sped from the shadow of the forest. Each day we went farther
afield, and each night trooped merrily in through the gates with hopes of
homes and clearings rising in our hearts--until the motionless figure of
the young Virginian met our eye. It was then that men began to scoff at
him behind his back, though some spoke with sufficient backwoods
bluntness to his face. And yet he gave no sign of anger or impatience.
Not so the other leaders. No sooner did the danger seem past than bitter
strife sprang up within the walls. Even the two captains were mortal
enemies. One was Harrod, a tall, spare, dark-haired man of great
endurance,--a type of the best that conquered the land for the nation;
the other, that Hugh McGary of whom I have spoken, coarse and brutal, if
you like, but fearless and a leader of men withal.

A certain Sunday morning, I remember, broke with a cloud-flecked sky, and
as we were preparing to go afield with such ploughs as could be got
together (we were to sow turnips) the loud sounds of a quarrel came from
the elm at the spring. With one accord men and women and children
flocked thither, and as we ran we heard McGary's voice above the rest.
Worming my way, boylike, through the crowd, I came upon McGary and Harrod
glaring at each other in the centre of it.

"By Job! there's no devil if I'll stand back from my clearing and waste
the rest of the summer for the fears of a pack of cowards. I'll take a
posse and marc