“Go away, both of you,” said Nancy.  “You can only look at them now, for I have everything ready for Father and Mother, and we must n’t eat until they come.”

Dan looked about the room to see what Nancy’s surprise might be.  It was a cheerful picture that met his eye.  First of all there was Nancy herself with her neat cap and white apron, putting the finishing touches to the little feast she had prepared.  She had spread the table with the best linen and decorated it with a bunch of red berries.  She had even brought out the silver tankard from its hiding-place under the eaves of the loft and placed it beside her father’s trencher.  The clams were simmering on the fire, sending out an appetizing smell, and the brown loaf was cut.  The hickory logs snapped and sputtered, and the flames danced gayly in the fireplace, setting other little flames dancing in the shining pewter dishes arranged on a dresser across the room.  Nimrod was lying before the fire with his head on his paws, asleep, and Zeb, squatted down beside him, was rolling his eyes hungrily in the direction of the pies.

“I hope they ’ll come soon,” said Daniel, lifting the cover of the kettle and sniffing.  “If they do not ’t is likely they ’ll find me as dead as a salt herring when they get here.”

Nancy laughed and, breaking a slice of brown-bread in two, gave a piece to each boy.  “Take that to stay your stomachs,” she said, “and, for the rest, have patience.”

For a long time they waited, and still there was no sound of hoofs upon the road.  Dusk deepened into darkness, and the harvest moon came out from behind a cloud and shed a silvery light over the landscape.  Nancy went to the door and gazed toward the road.

“Dost think, brother, the Indians have waylaid them?” she asked Dan at last.

“Nay,” answered Dan.  “They are likely delayed at the ferry.  Should the ferry-man be at his supper wild horses could not drag him from it, I ’ll be bound.  They ’ll come presently, never fear, but it will doubtless grieve them much to see me lying stiff and cold on the hearth!  Nancy, thou takest a fearful chance in denying thy brother food.”

[Illustration]

But Nancy only laughed at his woebegone face.  “Thou art indeed a valiant trencher-man,” she said.  Then, suddenly inspired, she brought him the extra pumpkin, which she had not used for the pies, set it before him upon the hearth-stone, and gave him a knife.  “Carve thyself a jack-o’-lantern,” she said. “’T will take up thy mind, and make thee forget thy stomach.”  Dan took the knife, cut a cap from the top of the pumpkin, and scooped out the seeds.  Then he cut holes for the eyes and nose, and a fearful gash, bordered with pointed teeth, for the mouth, and Nancy brought him the stub of a bayberry candle to put inside.  Zeb watched the process with eyes growing wider and wider as the thing became more and more like some frightful creature of his pagan imagination.  They were just about to light the candle when Nimrod gave a sharp bark; there was a creaking noise outside, and Nancy, springing joyfully to her feet, shouted, “They ’ve come!—­they ’ve come!” She was halfway to the door, when suddenly she stopped, stiff with fright.