“Nay,” answered his father.  “They had it not, and that causes me to think they have passed it as well as the boy on to others of their tribe.  There is naught to be done now but wait until after Thanksgiving Day.”

“’T will be but a sad holiday,” said the Goodwife.  “Though he is but a blackamoor, the lad hath found a place in my heart, and I grieve that evil hath befallen him.”

“When I saw thee come out from behind the cow-shed I thought thou hadst a burden,” said Daniel.  “I thought it was Zeb—­wounded, or mayhap dead.”

“Aye,” answered the Goodman.  “I did carry a burden and had like to forgot it.  I dropped it by the door of the cow-shed.  Go thou and bring it in.”

Dan ran out at once and returned a moment later carrying a huge wild turkey by the legs.  His mother rose and felt its breastbone with her fingers.

“’T is fine and fat, and young withal,” she answered. “’T will make a brave addition to our feast on the morrow, for, truth to tell, our preparations have been but half-hearted thus far.  Our minds were taken up with thy danger and fear for the lad.”

“Dwell rather on our deliverance,” said her husband.  “The Lord hath not brought us into this wilderness to perish.  Let us not murmur, as did the Children of Israel.  The Lord still guides us.”

“Aye, and by a pillar of fire, too,” said Nancy, remembering the straw-stack.

“And instead of manna he hath sent this turkey,” added Dan.

Supper was now over, and after it was cleared away, and they had had prayers, the mother sent the rest of the family to bed, while she busied herself with final preparations for the next day.  She plucked and stuffed the great turkey, first cutting off the long wing-feathers for hearth-brooms, and set it away on the shelf in the secret closet along with Nancy’s array of pies.  It was late when at last she lit her candle, covered the ashes, and climbed wearily to bed.

The wind changed in the night and when they looked out next morning the air was full of great white snow-flakes, and the blackened ruins of the straw-stack were neatly covered with a mantle of white.

The family was up betimes, and as they ate their good breakfast of sausages, johnny-cake, and maple syrup, they sent many a thought toward poor Zeb, wandering in the forest or perhaps lying dead in its depths.

It was a solemn little party that later left the cabin in the care of Nimrod and started across the glistening fields to attend the Thanksgiving service in the meeting-house.  They were made more solemn still by the sight of the two Indians sitting with hands and feet firmly fixed in the stocks, apparently as indifferent to the falling snow as though they were images of stone.  The first snowfall, usually such a joy to Nancy and Daniel, now only seemed to make them more miserable, and they were glad to see the sun when they came out of the meeting-house after the sermon and turned their steps toward home.  At least Zeb would not perish of cold if it continued to shine.  They were just beginning to climb the home hill, when they were surprised to see Nimrod come bounding to meet them, barking a welcome.