“Good heavens!” cried Boone.  “Any more, David?”

“Yes, thar’s Absalom Switcher and his wife, and a young gal of twelve; and Ephraim Stokes’ wife and a young boy of five; who war left by themselves, (Stokes himself being away, and his son Seth at the wedding, as was a son o’ Switcher’s also) have all bin foully mardered—­besides Johnny Long’s family, Peter Pierson’s, and a young child of Fred Mason’s that happened to be at Pierson’s house, and one or two others whose names I disremember.”

“But when did this happen, David?”

“Last night,” replied the other.  “It’s suspected that the Injens ha bin warting round here, and took advantage of this wedding, when the greater part on ’em war away.  It’s thought too that thar war a white spy out, who gin ’em information, and led ’em on—­as a villainous looking chap war seed about the vicinity not long ago.”

“Do they suspicion who war the spy?” asked Boone.

“Why some thinks as how it war that thar accussed renegade, Simon Girty.”

“Wretch!” muttered Boone, grasping his rifle almost fiercely; “I’d like to have old Bess, here, hold a short conflab with him.  But what have you got thar in your arms, that seems so heavy, David?”

“Rifles, Colonel.  I’ve bin riding round and collecting on ’em for this mad party of Younker’s, who went off without any precaution; and I’m now on my way to deliver ’em, that they may start instanter arter the cussed red skins, and punish ’em according to the Mosaic law.”

“Spur on then, David, and you may perhaps overtake some o’ them; and all that you do, arm and send ’em here as quick as possible—­for I’m dreadful impatient to be off.”

The colloquy between the two thus concluded, the horseman—­a strongly-built, hard-favored, muscular man of forty—­set spurs to his horse; and bounding onward toward Wilson’s (distant some five miles—­the ravine being about half way between the residence of the groom and bride,) he was quickly lost to the sight of the other, who quietly seated himself to await the reinforcement.

In the course of half an hour, Boone was joined by some three or four of the wedding party, who bad been overtaken by Billings, learned the news, accepted a rifle each, bidden their fair companions adieu, and sent them and the horses back to the house of the bride, while they moved forward to meet danger, rescue the living, and seek revenge.

In the course of an hour and a half, Billings himself returned, accompanied by some seven or eight stout hearts; among whom were young Switcher, Stokes, Millbanks, and, lastly, Isaac Younker, who had been roused from the nuptial bed to hear of the terrible calamity that had befallen his friends.  Isaac, on the present occasion, did not disgrace his training, the land which gave him birth, nor the country he now inhabited.  When the messenger came with the direful news, although somewhat late in the morning, Isaac had been found