THE UNSEEN HAND;
OR,
JAMES RENFEW AND HIS BOY-HELPERS.
CHAPTER I.
“THE MOTHER’S BREATH IS WARM.”
It was the autumn of 1792. The beams of the declining sun were resting peacefully upon the time-worn walls of a log house of large dimensions, evidently built to serve the purposes both of a dwelling and a fortress, and situated upon the banks of the Swatara Creek, in the State of Pennsylvania.
A magnificent chestnut-tree, whose trunk and lower branches were all aglow with the long level rays of the retiring light, shadowed a large portion of the spacious door-yard.
This was the homestead of Bradford Whitman, a well-to-do farmer, and whose family consisted of himself and wife, his aged father, and three children, Peter, Albert and Maria, aged respectively sixteen, fourteen and eleven.
Upon one of the highest branches of this great tree was seated Bertie Whitman. The eyes of the lad were eagerly fastened upon the road that, skirting the rising ground upon which the dwelling stood, led to a distant village.
At once his features lighted up with a jubilant expression; he rapidly descended from his perch, and ran to the door of the house, shouting, “Mother! Maria! Grandfather! They’ve got him; they are coming down Liscomb’s hill this minute, and there’s three in the wagon. Oh!”
He would have run to meet the approaching team, and had taken a few steps when he was met by his elder brother.