gained the middle of the street, not without a quickened beat of my
heart. Thence I sped, dodging this group and that, until I came to the
long log house that was called the garrison. Here our men were
stationed, where formerly a squad from an English regiment was quartered.
I found Captain Bowman, delivered the letter, and started back again
through the brown, dusty street, which lay in the shade of the great
forest trees that still lined it, doubling now and again to avoid an
idling brave that looked bent upon mischief. For a single mischance
might set the tide running to massacre. I was nearing the gate again,
the dust flying from my moccasined feet, the sight of the stalwart Tom
giving me courage again. Suddenly, with the deftness of a panther, an
Indian shot forward and lifted me high in his arms. To this day I recall
my terror as I dangled in mid-air, staring into a hideous face. By
intuition I kicked him in the stomach with all my might, and with a howl
of surprise and rage his fingers gripped into my flesh. The next thing I
remember was being in the dust, suffocated by that odor which he who has
known it can never forget. A medley of discordant cries was in my ears.
Then I was snatched up, bumped against heads and shoulders, and deposited
somewhere. Now it was Tom's face that was close to mine, and the light
of a fierce anger was in his blue eyes.

"Did they hurt ye, Davy?" he asked.

I shook my head. Before I could speak he was at the gate again,
confronting the mob of savages that swayed against the fence, and the
street was filled with running figures. A voice of command that I knew
well came from behind me. It was Colonel Clark's.

"Stay where you are, McChesney!" he shouted, and Tom halted with his hand
on the latch.