Then the three went toward the place of refuge at full speed, and behind the gate, having been warned by the report of her cousin's musket, Mary Pemberton stood ready to let down the heavy bar when the little party was near at hand.
The retreat had been begun none too soon, as was seen when the children came within the enclosure, for while Mark was replacing the bar which locked the gate, his mother, standing on one of the improvised platforms, discharged a musket.
"What have you seen?" the lad cried, as, the gate having been fastened, he ran toward that portion of the stockade where was his mother.
"An Indian came out just beyond the dead tree, over there."
"Did you hit him?"
"I'm afraid not, Mark; I never could send a bullet straight, and am now blaming myself for not having practiced more often after your father insisted that the time might come when I would need to handle a musket deftly."
By this time Mark stood by his mother's side, peering cautiously out over the top of the palisade, which was not a simple matter, since he took the risk of presenting the enemy with a target.
He could see nothing suspicious, and was yet peering eagerly around, when the report of a musket rang out on the other side of the stockade.
It was Susan who fired the shot. At the same moment Mark clambered up beside his mother, the girl had taken her station on one of the casks at a point overlooking the thicket, and the result showed that she had arrived there none too soon.
"Did you see an Indian?" Luke asked, as he mounted one of the wash-benches near the gate.