Kenelm Waldo, on his part, gazed at the speaker in astonishment.

"'Pon honor," he cried, "I never killed a red-skin in my life, or even
had a shot at one. Oh, I know now what he means; he is talking of a fox
that I shot two miles from his house, one that you ought to have secured
yourself, Mr. Archdale. This was the way I did it, the best way."

When he had finished his account, Katie said:--

"I have a plan for amusing ourselves. Let us make every one tell a
story, and we'll lay forfeits on the person that doesn't give us an
interesting one. Mistress Eveleigh, please begin."

"That is rather arbitrary, Mistress Katie, with no warning," returned
that lady, smiling. "But since we've been talking about the Indians, I
will tell you something that my mother did once before she was married,
while she was living down on the Cape."

"What a pity, Katie, you did not keep Mistress Eveleigh until the last,"
cried Archdale; "I know she will have the best story of us all."

"You have too high estimation of my powers," returned Mrs. Eveleigh,
flattered; "but if I do well," she added, "it must be remembered that
none of you have had forty-five years in which to find one."

The story, like a thousand others of that time, was of the presence of
mind and courage of one of the early settlers of America, and was
listened to with the attention it deserved. All, with one exception,
were outspoken in admiration of its heroine.