The current bears them on. Soon they are amid the rapids at Pennacook, but the thought of home, of liberty, cools their brains and steadies their nerves. The intrepid women handle the paddles dexterously, steering clear of sunken rocks and dangerous whirlpools.
They come to a space of clear water, and then to falls, around which they must carry the canoe. They are in danger of death by drowning, in danger of prowling savages, whose wigwams are still standing along the bank of the winding stream, but no Indian discovers them. With tireless energy they ply their paddles. Days pass. At last they sweep round a bend, and behold familiar scenes: they are once more at home, coming upon their sorrowing friends like apparitions from the dead. It is a marvellous story they have to tell of endurance, heroism, and victory. No one can doubt their words, for there are the scalps, evidence undoubtable.
By every fireside the story of Hannah Dustin, Mary Neff, and Samuel Leonardson is narrated. Presents come to them—fifty pounds from the General Court of Massachusetts, and a rich present from the Governor of New York.
A monument has been reared upon the spot where they obtained their freedom, commemorative of their endurance, resolution, and heroic action.
THE ROVERINGS AT CONEY ISLAND.
BY MATTHEW WHITE, JUN.
The two Eds wanted to go very much.
"I can learn to build forts in the sand, and then grow up to be a soldier," urged Edward.
"And I might watch the men steer the boats, and by-and-by be ready to sail off somewheres on a ship, and bring back an India shawl," suggested Edgar, cunningly, and Mrs. Rovering decided at once that they should go.