a thrill to the heart of every colonist. It
spelled death, or that horrible simple absence, vacancy, mystery, which
is harder than death.

As for us, he had told my mother that if he and Andrew were not returned
at sundown she might construe a calamity. So at sundown we gave the news
to the Fort, and directly we heard the alarm gun booming out across the
dusk like a salute to the death of my father, a solemn, final
declaration. At the sound of this gun my sisters all began newly to
weep. It simply defined our misfortune. In the morning a party was sent
out, which came upon the deserted plough, the oxen calmly munching, and
the horse still excited and affrighted. The soldiers found the trail of
four Indians. They followed the trail some distance over the mountains,
but the redskins with their captives had a long start, and pursuit was
but useless. The result of this expedition was that we knew at least
that father and Andrew had not been massacred immediately. But in those
days this was a most meagre consolation. It was better to wish them well
dead.

My father and Andrew were hurried over the hills at a terrible pace by
the four Indians. Andrew told me afterwards that he could think
sometimes that he was dreaming of being carried off by goblins. The
redskins said no word, and their mocassined feet made no sound. They
were like evil spirits. But it was as he caught glimpses of father's
pale face, every wrinkle in it deepened and hardened, that Andrew saw
everything in its light. And Andrew was but thirteen years old. It is a
tender age at which to be burned at the stake.

In time the party came upon two more Indians, who had as a prisoner a
man named Lebbeus Hammond. He had left Wilkesbarre in search of a
strayed horse. He was riding the animal back to the Fort when the
Indians caught him. He and my father knew each other well, and their
greeting was like them.

"What! Hammond! You here?"

"Yes, I'm here."

As the march was resumed, the principal Indian bestrode Hammond's horse,
but the horse was very high-nerved and scared, and the bridle was only a
temporary one made from hickory withes. There was no saddle. And so
finally the principal Indian came off with a crash, alighting with
exceeding severity upon his head. When he got upon his feet he was in
such a rage that the three captives thought to see him dash his tomahawk
into the skull of the trembling horse, and, indeed, his arm was raised
for the blow, but su