“Wal, the wimmen in them times hed a sight o' wear in 'em. They was resolute, strong, hard-workin' wimmen. They could all tackle a hoss, or load and fire a gun. They was brought up hard, and they was used to troubles and dangers. It's jest as folks gets used to things how they takes 'em. In them days folks was brought up to spect trouble; they didn't look for no less. Why, in them days the men allers took their guns into the field when they went to hoe corn, and took their guns with 'em to meetin' Sundays; and the wimmen they kep' a gun loaded where they knew where to find it; and when trouble come it was jest what they spected, and they was put even with it. That's the sort o' wimmen they was. Wal, Delily and her children was brought safe through at last, but they hed a hard time on't.”
“Tell us some more stories about Indians, Sam,” we said, with the usual hungry impatience of boys for a story.
“Wal, let me see,” said Sam, with his hat pushed back and his eyes fixed dreamily on the top of Eliot's oak, which was now yellow with the sunset glory,—“let me see. I hain't never told ye about Col. Eph Miller, hev I?”
“No, indeed. What about him?”
“Wal, he was took prisoner by the Indians; and they was goin' to roast him alive arter their fashion, and he gin 'em the slip.”
“Do tell us all about it.”
“Wal, you see, Deliverance Scranton over to Sherburne, she's Col. Eph's daughter; and she used to hear her father tell about that, and she's told me time and agin about it. It was this way,—You see, there hedn't ben no alarm about Indians for some time, and folks hed got to feelin' kind o' easy, as folks will. When there don't nothin' happen for a good while, and it keeps a goin' on so, why, you think finally there won't nothin' happen; and so it was with Col. Eph and his wife. She told Deliverance that the day before she reely hed forgot all about that there was any Indians in the country; and she'd been out after spruce and wintergreen and hemlock, and got over her brass kettle to bile for beer; and the child'n they brought in lots o' wild grapes that they gathered out in the woods; and they said when they came home that they thought they see an Indian a lyin' all along squirmin' through the bushes, and peekin' out at 'em like a snake, but they wa'n't quite sure. Faith, the oldest gal, she was sure she see him quite plain; but 'Bijah (he was Col. Eph's oldest boy) he wa'n't so sure.
“Anyway, they didn't think no more about it, and that night they hed prayers and went off to bed.
“Arterwards, Col. Eph he said he remembered the passage o' Scriptur' he read that night; it was, 'The race is not to the swift nor the battle to the strong.' He didn't notice it much when he read it; but he allers spoke of it arterwards as a remarkable providence that that 'are passage should have come jest so that night.
“Wal, atween twelve and one o'clock they was waked up by the most awful screechin' that ever you heard, as if twenty thousand devils was upon 'em. Mis' Miller she was out o' bed in a minit, all standin'. 'O husband, husband, the Indians are on us!' says she; and sure enough they was. The children, 'Bijah and Faith come a runnin' in. 'O father, father! what shall we do?'