“Dost think, Mother, that he will surely bring Zeb back in time for the feast?” asked Nancy anxiously.

“Let us pray, nothing doubting,” answered the mother.  “If it be God’s will, they will return.”

There was a tremor in her voice even as she spoke her brave words, for she knew well the perils of their search.  All day long they worked, praying as they prepared the feast that they might share it a united family.  Nancy made the pies, and Dan dressed a fowl, while their mother got ready a pot of beans, made brown-bread to bake in the oven with the pies, and steamed an Indian pudding.  All day they watched the forest for sign of the returning men.  All day they listened for the sound of guns, but neither sight nor sound rewarded their vigilance.

[Illustration]

Dusk came on.  The Goodwife set a candle in the window, and when her other tasks were finished, went back to her spinning.  Not a moment was she idle, nor did she appear to her children to be anxious, but as she walked back and forth beside her wheel Nancy heard her murmuring, “Because thou hast made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation, there shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.”  Over and over she said it to herself, never slacking her work meanwhile.

The supper which Nancy prepared waited—­one hour—­two—­after Dan had fed the cattle and brought in the milk, and still there was no sign of the searching party.

Suddenly Nimrod, from his place on the hearth, gave a short sharp bark, and, leaping to the window, stood with his paws on the sill, peering out into the darkness and whining.  Dan was beside him in an instant.  “I see them,” he cried joyfully, “a whole parcel of them.  They are just coming out from behind the cow-shed.”

Nancy and her mother reached the window almost at the same moment, and as the shadowy figures emerged from behind the cow-shed the mother counted them breathlessly, “One—­two—­three—­four—­five—­”

“There ’s Father!” shrieked Nancy.

“He ’s carrying something.  Oh, dost think it is Zeb?”

“Six—­seven—­eight—­nine! ten! There are ten men, when but eight set forth.  Praise God, they have all come back!” cried the mother.  Turning swiftly to the fireplace, she snatched from it a brand of burning pitch pine and, holding it high above her head for a beacon, ran out to meet them, with Dan, Nancy, and Nimrod all at her heels.  The torch-light shone on stern and weary faces as the men drew near.

“All ’s well, wife,” came the voice of the Goodman.

“Hast found the lad?” she called back to him.

“Nay—­not yet,” he answered, “but we think we have his captors.  Hold thy torch nearer and have no fear.  The savages cannot hurt thee.  Nancy, Daniel, have you ever seen these faces before?”

As he spoke he thrust forward two Indians with their hands securely tied behind them.