The woman opened her eyes, but did not stir.  The dogs rose tumultuously, but Tom showed his teeth and growled, and they went back under the table.  The young man rose upon one knee, he and his father gazing stupidly at us, the firelight in their faces.  We women shrank against our protectors, except Maggie, who let go a strong oath.  The younger man was frightfully ugly; pale-faced, large-eyed, haggard, his long, tangled, blonde hair on his shoulders.  The father’s face was written all over with depravity and crime.  Joseph advanced and spoke to him.

“What the devil of a language is that?” he asked of his son in English.

“He is asking you,” said Maggie, “to let us stay here till the storm is over.”

“And where do you come from this way?”

“From that flatboat tied to the bank.”

“Well, the house isn’t big nor pretty, but you are its masters.”

Maggie went and sat by the window, ready to give the signal.  Pat sank at her feet, and laying his head upon Tom went straight to sleep.  Papa sat down by the fire on an inverted box and took me on one knee.  With her head against his other, Suzanne crouched upon the floor.  We were silent, our hearts beating hard, wishing ourselves with mamma in St. James.  Joseph set Alix upon a stool beside him and removed her wrapping.

“Hello!” said the younger stranger, “I thought you were carrying a child.  It’s a woman!”

An hour passed.  The woman in the corner seemed to sleep; Celeste, too, slumbered.  When I asked Suzanne, softly, if she was asleep, she would silently shake her head.  The men went on with their task, not speaking.  At last they finished, divided the balls between them, put them into a leather pouch at their belt, and the father, rising, said: 

“Let us go.  It is time.”

Maggie raised her head.  The elder man went and got his gun and loaded it with two balls, and while the younger was muffling himself in an old blanket-overcoat such as we give to plantation negroes, moved towards the door and was about to pass out.  But quicker than lightning Maggie had raised the window, snatched a pistol from her belt, and fired.  The two men stood rooted, the elder frowning at Maggie.  Tom rose and showed two rows of teeth.

“What did you fire that pistol for?  What signal are you giving?”

“That is understood at the flatboat,” said Maggie, tranquilly.  “I was to fire if you left the house.  You started, I fired, and that’s all.”

“——!  And did you know, by yourself, what we were going to do?”

“I haven’t a doubt.  You were simply going to attack and rob the flatboat.”

A second oath, fiercer than the first, escaped the man’s lips.  “You talk that way to me!  Do you forget that you’re in my power?”