“Now,” he said, “there have been many to claim this land—­who will follow me to defend it?”

As I live, they cheered him.  Hands were flung up that were past counting, and men who were barely rested from the hardships of the Wilderness Trail shouted their readiness to go.  But others slunk away, and were found that morning grumbling and cursing the chance that had brought them to Kentucky.  Within the hour the news had spread to the farms, and men rode in to Harrodstown to tell the Colonel of many who were leaving the plough in the furrow and the axe in the wood, and starting off across the mountains in anger and fear.  The Colonel turned to me as he sat writing down the names of the volunteers.

“Davy,” said he, “when you are grown you shall not stay at home, I promise you.  Take your mare and ride as for your life to McChesney, and tell him to choose ten men and go to the Crab Orchard on the Wilderness Road.  Tell him for me to turn back every man, woman, and child who tries to leave Kentucky.”

I met Tom coming in from the field with his rawhide harness over his shoulders.  Polly Ann stood calling him in the door, and the squirrel broth was steaming on the table.  He did not wait for it.  Kissing her, he flung himself into the saddle I had left, and we watched him mutely as he waved back to us from the edge of the woods.

* * * * * * *

In the night I found myself sitting up in bed, listening to a running and stamping near the cabin.

Polly Ann was stirring.  “Davy,” she whispered, “the stock is oneasy.”

We peered out of the loophole together and through the little orchard we had planted.  The moon flooded the fields, and beyond it the forest was a dark blur.  I can recall the scene now, the rude mill standing by the water-side, the twisted rail fences, and the black silhouettes of the horses and cattle as they stood bunched together.  Behind us little Tom stirred in his sleep and startled us.  That very evening Polly Ann had frightened him into obedience by telling him that the Shawanees would get him.

What was there to do?  McAfee’s Station was four miles away, and Ray’s clearing two.  Ray was gone with Tom.  I could not leave Polly Ann alone.  There was nothing for it but to wait.

Silently, that the children might not be waked and lurking savage might not hear, we put the powder and bullets in the middle of the room and loaded the guns and pistols.  For Polly Ann had learned to shoot.  She took the loopholes of two sides of the cabin, I of the other two, and then began the fearful watching and waiting which the frontier knows so well.  Suddenly the cattle stirred again, and stampeded to the other corner of the field.  There came a whisper from Polly Ann.

“What is it?” I answered, running over to her.

“Look out,” she said; “what d’ye see near the mill?”

Her sharp eyes had not deceived her, for mine perceived plainly a dark form skulking in the hickory grove.  Next, a movement behind the rail fence, and darting back to my side of the house I made out a long black body wriggling at the edge of the withered corn-patch.  They were surrounding us.  How I wished that Tom were home!