With his heart pounding like a trip-hammer Dan mounted Penny.  Zeb was placed on the pillion behind him with both arms clutching his waist, and the Goodman strode ahead, his keen eyes watching in every direction for any sign of danger.  There was not a sound in the forest except the soft thud of the horse’s feet, the cawing of a crow circling out of sight over the tree-tops, and the shrill cry of a blue jay.

“Confound thee, thou marplot, thou busy-body of the wood,” muttered the Goodman to himself as he listened.  “Wert thou but a human gossip, I ’d set thee in the stocks till thou hadst learned to hold thine evil tongue!”

But the blue jay only kept up his squawking, passing the news on to his brethren until the forest rang with word of their approach.

It did not need the blue jays to tell of their progress, however, for though no other sound had betrayed their advance, two Indians were creeping stealthily through the underbrush, keeping pace with the travelers, and when they had reached a favorable spot in a small clearing, they suddenly sprang from their hiding-place.  With a blood-curdling cry they leaped forward, and, seizing one of Zeb’s legs, tried to drag him from the horse’s back.

The yells of the Indians were as nothing to those that Zeb then let loose!  The air was fairly split by blood-curdling shrieks, and the horse, terrified in turn, leaped forward, tearing Zeb from the grasp of the Indian and almost unseating Dan by the jerk.  But Dan dug his knees into the horse’s sides, flung his arms about her neck, and, holding on for dear life, tore away up the trail with Zeb clinging like a limpet to his waist.

Never was a ride like that.  Even John Gilpin’s was a mild performance beside it, for Zeb shrieked every minute of the way as they sped along, with the horse’s tail streaming out behind like the tail of a comet, and the daylight showing between the bouncing boys and Penny’s back at every wild leap.  Even if Daniel had not been minded to obey his father’s command, he could not have helped himself, for Penny took matters into her own four hoofs, and never paused in her wild career until, covered with foam, she dashed madly into a little hamlet where the village of Neponset now stands.

Samuel Kittredge was just starting for the forest with his axe on his shoulder, when his ears were smitten by the frantic shrieks of Zeb, and, thinking it must be a wildcat on the edge of the clearing, he started back to the house for his gun.  Before he reached it, Penitence, with the two boys on her back, came thundering toward him at full gallop, and stopped at his side.

“What in tarnation is the matter with ye?” he exclaimed, gazing in amazement at the strange apparition.  “I declare for it, that nigger is all but scared plumb white!  What ails ye?”

“Indians!” gasped Dan, pointing toward the trail.  “My father—­quick!” No more words were needed.  Samuel Kittredge dashed into his house, snatched his gun from the chimney, and, dashing out again, fired it into the air.  Poor Zeb!  He slid off over the horse’s tail on to the ground and lay there in a heap, while a knot of men, responding to the signal of Sam Kittredge’s gun, gathered hurriedly before his house and started at once down the trail.