He had helped Alexander Ferguson with the making of the fireplace and knew how to mix the mortar.  He worked with a will for his heart was in the new home.  It was a fine September morning.  The warm sunlight had set the meadow cocks a crowing.  The far reaches of the great, grassy plain were dimmed with haze.  It was a vast, flowery wilderness, waving and murmuring in the breeze like an ocean.  How long those acres, sown by the winds of heaven, had waited for the plowman now arrived!

Harry felt the beauty of the scene but saw and enjoyed more the face of Bim Kelso as he worked and planned his own house—­no cabin but a mansion like that of Judge Harper in the village near his old home.  He had filled every crevice in the rear wall and was working on the front when he heard the thunder of running horses and saw those figures, dim in a cloud of dust, flying up the road again.  He thought of the threat of Bap McNoll.  It occurred to him that he would be in a bad way alone with those ruffians if they were coming for revenge.  He stepped into the door of the house and stood a moment debating what he would best do.  He thought of running toward the grove, which was a few rods from the rear door of the house, and hiding there.  He couldn’t bear to run.  Bim and all the rest of them would hear of it.  So with the sickle in his right hand he stood waiting inside the house and hoping they wouldn’t stop.  They rode up to the door and dismounted quietly and hobbled their horses.  There were five of them who crowded into the cabin with McNoll in the lead.

“Now, you young rooster, you’re goin’ to git what’s comin’ to you,” he growled.

The boy faced them bravely and warned them away with his sickle.  They were prepared for such emergencies.  One of them drew a bag of bird shot from his pocket and hurled it at Harry’s head.  It hit him full in the face and he staggered against the wall stunned by the blow.  They rushed upon the boy and disarmed and bore him to the floor.  For a little time he knew not what was passing.  When he came to, his hands and feet were tied and the men stood near, cursing and laughing, while their leader, McNoll, was draining a bottle.  Suddenly he heard a voice trembling with excitement and wet with tears saying: 

“You go ’way from here or I’ll kill you dead.  So help me God I’ll kill you.  If one o’ you touches him he’s goin’ to die.”

He saw Bim Kelso at the window with her gun leveled at the head of McNoll.  Her face was red with anger.  Her eyes glowed.  As he looked a tear welled from one of them and trailed down the scarlet surface of her cheek.  McNoll turned without a word and walked sulkily out of the back door.  The others crowded after him.  They ran as soon as they had got out of the door.  She left the window.  In a moment the young men were galloping away.

Bim came into the house sobbing with emotion but with her head erect.  She stood her gun in a corner and knelt by the helpless boy.  He was crying also.  Her hair fell upon his face as she looked at the spot of deep scarlet color made by the shot bag.  She kissed it and held her cheek against his and whispered:  “Don’t cry.  It’s all over now.  I’m going to cut these ropes.”