to speak in a low voice, when Mrs
Seagrave came out of the house.

"Where is that brave, kind man?" cried she, "that I may bless him and
thank him."

Mr Seagrave went to her, and caught her by the arm. "He is hurt, my
dear; and very much hurt. I did not tell you at the time."

Mr Seagrave related what had occurred, and then led her to where Ready
was lying. Mrs Seagrave knelt by his side, took his hand, and burst
into tears.

"Don't weep for me," said Ready; "my days have been numbered; I'm only
sorry that I cannot any more be useful to you."

"Dear good man," said Mrs Seagrave, "whatever may be our fates, and
that is for the Almighty to decide for us, as long as I have life, what
you have done for me and mine shall never be forgotten."

Mrs Seagrave then bent over him, and kissing his forehead, rose and
retired weeping into the house.

"William," said Ready, "I can't talk now; raise my head a little, and
then leave me. You have not looked round lately. Come again in about
half an hour. Leave me now, Mr Seagrave; I shall be better if I doze a
little."

They complied with Ready's request; went up to the planks, and examined
carefully all round the stockade; at last they stopped.

"This is a sad business, William," said Mr Seagrave.

William shook his head. "He would not let me go," replied he; "I wish
he had. I fear that he is much hurt."

"I should say that he cannot recover, William. We shall miss him
to-morrow if they attack us."

"I hardly know what to say, papa; but I feel that since we have been
relieved, I am able to do twice as much as I could have done before."

"I feel the same, but still with such a force against us, two people
cannot do much."

"If my mother and Juno load the muskets for us," replied William, "we
shall at all events do as much now as we should have been able to do if
there were three, so exhausted as we should have been."

"Perhaps so; at all events we will do our best, for we fight for our
lives and for those most dear to us."

William went softly up to Ready, and found that he was dozing; he
therefore did not disturb him, but returned to his father. Now that
their thirst had been appeased, they all felt the calls of hunger. Juno
and William went and cut off steaks from the turtle, and fried them;
they all made a hearty meal, and perhaps never had they taken one with
so much relish in their lives.

It was nearly daylight, when William, who had several times