Part 22

There was no time for argument. He pushed the boat into the stream and darted back to the house, bolting the gates of the palisade and then the door as he entered. He grabbed his gun and placed his bullets and powder-horn in readiness. He then dashed upstairs quickly returning with an armful of clothing, which he spread out upon chairs and tables. At that moment the shots of the Indians struck the house.

A horrible fear for the safety of his family brought a shudder to Thomas Bickford, yet, though alone in the house, he bravely began its defense.

"Steady there, shoot!" he shouted as if he had a house full of men to command. He then pulled on an old red soldier's coat and flashed past the window in view of the Indians peering through the chinks outside the palisade. With another loud command and a remark in a different tone of voice, Bickford tore off the coat, pulled on a fur hat, and came again to view at the window. This he continued to do with frequent changes of costume and constant shooting and shouting until the Indians lost courage and fled for safety fearing an armed band would soon rush out upon them.

Their flight brought but a moment of relief. The house, perhaps, was safe, but what of the family?

Not until late in the day did Thomas Bickford dare start forth in search of them. He crept along the shore in the dusk, fearing each moment the shot of some lurking Indian. On and on he went, yet he found no trace of his people. At last he came upon the hollow oak that the boys had described as their playhouse. Here he paused, for a sound came from within.

"Can that be a hiding place of the savages?" he asked himself in alarm and quickly turned his course. Suddenly there came from the oak a stifled whisper, "Father!"

The family had but just escaped the sight of the Indians that morning, and here in the hollow tree they had crouched in fear all the long day. Now, startled lest the sound they heard outside was the tread of a redman, the boys peeped through a knothole and saw their father.

To find each other was joy enough for one moment. The next brought the whisper:

"Is the house saved?"

After dark all crept cautiously out to the hidden boat, and later in the shelter of their home they listened breathlessly to the story of its wonderful defense.

THE ATTACK AT THE PLAINS

"Scamper! The raindrops will get there before you!" Mrs. Jackson scattered her children like a flock of chickens to the green to gather up the whitened linen which had been spread to dry on that long remembered June day of 1696.

"There, Samuel, do stop that nonsense, for the rain will soon be here!" she laughed in spite of herself, as the round freckled face of her boy on hands and knees appeared with a grin from beneath a sheet.

The laughter of all three children increased when the cows and sheep, in mid-afternoon, came hurrying to the barns, as if they, too, were afraid of a sprinkle.

Mrs. Jackson gave a troubled glance skyward at the on-coming storm and then at the trembling cattle, which had doubtless been frightened by something worse.

Samuel, Betsey, and Peggy had glorious romp together after supper, but neither father, nor mother, nor even Uncle Jack, could be persuaded to tell them a bedtime story, for something seemed to trouble them all. The children went early to bed. Betsey whispered, as they climbed to the feathers, "I heard father say that we'd stay here one more night. Do you suppose the Indians are coming?"

However, not even the dreaded word, Indian nor the booming of the thunder storm outside could keep those sleepy eyes open.

Downstairs the older members of the family and several neighbors gathered about the wide fireplace, glad of the warmth that chilly June night. With sober faces they discussed the rumors of terrible deeds the Indians had committed in Dover, a few miles up the river.

"Some are lurking about us," declared Mr. Jackson, "for no storm would so frighten the cattle. 'Tis not the first time they have come home bruised and bleeding."

"Tomorrow night," added his brother, "the settlers here at the Plains must go to the garrison house for safety. An attack may come at any moment."

Little Samuel was the first to open his eyes the following morning, thinking it a glorious sunshine that gave such a brilliant light outside. Suddenly a snap and a crackle brought him to his feet. He found the barn ablaze. A war-whoop from the Indians then aroused the household.

While father and Uncle Jack armed themselves with such implements as they had at hand, mother gathered the children together to go with her to the garrison house. About to leave the house she missed her wallet, which she had left, and ran upstairs to get it. She came down to find the children gone.

"Perhaps they have started ahead," she thought, and hurried out.

The children, left alone for a moment, frightened and bewildered had run out the front door, for at the back of the house were the Indians, yelling and shrieking. Samuel had crawled into a familiar hiding place under the cinnamon rose bushes, while Betsey and Peggy had hidden beneath the low branches of the lilac, so completely concealed that they did not even see their mother come out of the same door a moment later.

Here the children remained until the barns were smouldering ashes, and the Indians had fled. Samuel was the first to creep from his hiding-place and dash to the side of his father, whom he saw at the front door. Betsey and Peggy followed, calling, "Where's mother?"

"Is she not with you?" asked their surprised father, grasping his children by the hands in his thankfulness to find them alive, for the Indians had left a desolated spot.

"Here comes Uncle Jack from the garrison house. He will tell us where mother is," cried Peggy hopefully. They all hastened to meet him, only to learn that their mother had not been seen since she left home.

"Did the Indians carry her off?" cried little Samuel, choking back a sob.