"What's the matter, mother?" he exclaimed. "What are you going to do?"
"Your father has just come back from the fort, Al. Haven't you seen him?"
"No, mother."
"He has gone to the pasture for Monty. We must drive to the fort at once, this afternoon. The Indians have broken out at the Lower Agency and the report at Fort Ridgely is that they have killed many white people."
"Whew-w!" whistled Al. "That's bad, isn't it? What will become of the hay?"
"Let's stay here and fight 'em!" cried Tommy, his head thrown back and his eyes flashing. "Why should we run away from a lot of bad Indians? They won't dare hurt us with papa here."
"Hush, Tommy," said his mother, yet not without a glance of pride at the fearless little fellow, so like his father. "There are a great many of them and we are far away from help."
"I don't care," persisted Tommy. "We could block up the doors and windows, and they can't shoot through these thick logs."
"No, Tommy," interrupted his brother, patting the small boy's shoulder, "but they could burn the house, and then where should we be?"
"Run for the woods."