“No, baby,” said the mother, kissing him.
“Hullo! up there,” called Amos. “What do you see?”
The shrill little voice rang back clearly, “They’re a-comin’, a terrible sight of them.”
“How many? Twenty?”
“I guess so. Oh, uncle, the boat’s floated off!”
“Didn’t you fasten it?” cried Harned.
“God forgive me!” wailed the woman, “I don’t know!”
Harned sat down in the nearest chair, and his gun slipped between his knees. “Maggie, give us a drink of coffee,” said he, quietly. “We’ll have time for that before they come.”
“Can’t we barricade and fight?” said Amos, glaring about him.