Chapter 6

"SETTIN' TILL BEDTIME"

One night in November the Rogers household had gathered as usual around the hearth in the spacious living-room. The fire roared and crackled merrily, dancing on the whitewashed walls, and shining brightly on the brass andirons and the glass doors of the cupboard.

The candle-stand stood in the center of the room; on one side of it sat Abner Dudley, reading aloud from the "Kentucky Gazette"; on the other, Mrs. Rogers, seated in the cushioned rocker, was patching a linsey jacket for Tommy, who, with his youngest brother, was playing jackstones on the floor behind the stand. To supplement the light from candle and fire, a huge hickory knot had been thrust into the fireplace, against one of the andirons. By its light Henry was weaving a basket, the floor around him littered with the long, pliable osier slips which the twins were sorting for his use. In the opposite corner, on a low stool, the negro girl, Rache, nodded over a piece of knitting. Mason Rogers, enjoying his after-supper pipe, was engaged in mending a set of harness. Susan, dreamily staring into the fire, held her sewing idly in her lap until her mother's voice aroused her.

"Come, Cissy, don't set thah with folded hands, ez though you wuz a fine lady. Ef you can't see well 'nough to do the overcastin' on thet jac'net petticoat, git out yer tettin' or them quilt squares. Rache, you triflin' niggah, wake up. You don't airn yer salt. I declar' I'll hev you sold down South the nex' time ole Jake Hopkins teks a drove to Alabam'. I reckon you won't hev much time fur noddin' down in them cottonfields, with the overseer's lash a-lippin' yer back ever' time he sees you idlin'. You'd better mek yer needles fly, fur nary a thing 'cept a switch an' some ashes will you git in yer Chris'mas stockin', ef all them socks fur Rube an' Tom ain't done by then. Lucy, you an' Lucindy leave 'lone them strips; you're jes' hend'rin' yer brothah. Git yer nine patch pieces. Gre't, big gals lak you ortn't idle."

"Some one's comin'!" exclaimed Mr. Rogers, the first to notice the barking of the dogs outside. "See who 'tis, Henry."

"Heah, Lucy, gether up them twigs," bustled Mrs. Rogers, as she swept the hearth. "Rache, tek thet harnish out. I declar', Mason, I wish you'd do sich wuck in the kitchen or stable. Folks'll think I ain't no sort o' housekeepah."

"How's Mrs. Gilcrest?" asked Mrs. Rogers a moment later, as she shook hands with Major Gilcrest and nodded to his boys, Martin Luther and Silas. "Wish she'd come with you, but I reckon she's feared to be out in the night air."

"Why didn't Betsy come?" Susan asked.

"Oh, Abby had company; Drane and Hart rode out from Lexington to spend the evening. Abby felt that she couldn't entertain two beaux at once, so Betsy stayed to help her."

"Don't pull the house down, childurn," Mr. Rogers called cheerily, as his four youngest and the Gilcrest boys were hurrying off to the kitchen for a game of romps. "Hold out yer apurns, gals, an' tek some apples 'long," he added to the twins. "You kin roast 'em on the h'arth."

"I hear, Mr. Dudley," said Gilcrest presently, "that you use the Bible as a reading-book in your school."

"Only in one instance," replied Dudley. "Eli and Jacob Hinkson use the Bible as a reader because their father refuses to get them any other."

"Ah!" exclaimed Gilcrest; "I must remonstrate with Hinkson."

"I'll be obliged if you will. I said all I could to him with no avail."

"It's a wrong use of the Word," said Gilcrest.

"Oh, I don't say that," Dudley replied. "If the text were not such hard reading for the little fellows, I'd be satisfied to have the Bible the only reader used in school."

"No, no!" Gilcrest objected with an emphatic shake of his head. "Such a course would tend to lead the young mind into error."

"On the contrary," returned Dudley, thoughtfully, "might not the seed of the gospel, thus sown, fall unconsciously into the child's heart and bear fruit for good when he is older?"

"No! It's dangerous to place the Bible in the hands of the unconverted young."

"Do I understand you to mean that children should not read the Bible at all?" asked Dudley.

"The mysteries of the Scriptures are not for the child to tamper with. When I was a schoolboy in Massachusetts, the New England Primer was the only reading-text, and I wish it were in vogue in our schools now; it contained the Lord's Prayer and the Shorter Catechism, and that's all a child should know about the Bible until after he is converted."

"But," asked Dudley, "how can a child learn the way of salvation if not by Bible reading?"

"By study of the catechism, of course," answered Gilcrest. "Once rooted and grounded in that, he will not be liable to fall into error later on, and put wrong interpretations on the Holy Scriptures. I'd rather have the Bible a sealed book to the unconverted, so that the Spirit may work untrammeled and sovereignly on his heart."

"Ah! I see now why the priests in olden times chained up the Bible so that the common people could not have access to it," observed young Dudley, with a sarcasm which was entirely lost on Gilcrest. "But isn't it the idea of this age and country that there should be a 'free Bible for a free people'?"

"Yes, for a 'free' people," retorted Gilcrest, "but not for those who are still under bondage to sin. Besides, those who have not been well instructed in the catechism, know nothing about 'rightly dividing the word.'"

"How about that passage," asked Abner, "'All scripture is given by inspiration, and is profitable for--for--for----'?"

"Henry kin say it fur you," interrupted Mason Rogers, thinking that the schoolmaster's Biblical knowledge had failed him; "he's mighty peart on quotin' Scriptur."

Whereupon Henry, who up to this time had been a silent but interested listener to the discussion, repeated the passage.

"Precisely!" Gilcrest exclaimed. "All Scripture is profitable--but to whom? To 'the man of God.' To such--the elect, the called--how are the Scriptures profitable? Why, as Paul says, to reprove and correct when he goes off into forbidden paths, and to instruct him further in righteousness. Only the regenerate, the elect, are referred to; for they only can do good works. Moreover, the very passages that are 'a savor of life unto life' to the called, are 'a savor of death unto death' to those out of Christ."

"Egzactly! I see that p'int, anyway," said Mason Rogers, as he sat with chair tilted back, meditatively nibbling at the stem of his unlighted pipe. "Sartain Scriptures air made to suit sartain diseases, lak doctah's physic; an' ef took when the systum hain't jes' in the right fix fur it, they might kill, instid o' cure."

Here Mrs. Rogers, who until now had been dutifully silent, intent on her sewing, remarked, "Well, Hirum, Preacher Stone hain't o' yo' way o' thinkin'; he's allus urgin' Bible readin'."

"Ah! Sister Rogers, Stone has much to learn and to unlearn. He's too broad in his views. In fact, I sometimes question whether he believes in Calvinism at all."

"Well, whut ef he don't, so long ez he lives right an' preaches right?" asked Mrs. Rogers. "When I heah him preach, I feel lak I want to be bettah. An' hain't thet whut preachin's fur, to mek folks want to live bettah lives? Whut diffruns whuthah he b'lieves in Ca'vinism, or not? It's jes' a big, onmeanin' word, anyway."

"That won't do, Sister Rogers. Calvinism is the stronghold of the Christian religion. Furthermore, it's a logically constructed system of belief, and if you are loose on one point, you're loose on all. Every departure from Calvinism is a step towards atheism. The downward grades are from Calvinism to Arminianism; from Arminianism to Pelagianism; from Pelagianism to deism; from deism to atheism."

"Pshaw!" exclaimed Mrs. Rogers, undaunted. "It teks a scholard to undahstand all them jawbreakahs. Common folks lak me nevah'd git the meanin' intah ther head pieces. An' I say thet the sort o' preachin' to do good is them plain, simple truths whut Bro. Stone gives us."

"Yes, Hiram, Cynthy Ann's right," said Rogers. "The gospel ez Stone preaches it seems plain ez the nose on yer face, but when the 'five p'ints' is discussed, I git all uv a muddle."

"But, Mason," asked Gilcrest, "you surely believe in the Confession of Faith of your church, do you not?"

"Why, I s'pose I do b'lieve it--leastways, I subscribed to it when I jined the chu'ch; but I'll be fetched ef I understand it."

"We've hed 'nough talk on religion fer one spaill, I think," now put in Mrs. Rogers. "Let's hev some apples an' cidah. Susan, see whut them childurn air about. They're mekin' 'nough fuss to tek the roof off." As she spoke, there came from the kitchen the sound of loud peals of laughter, much scampering, and the cry, "Pore Puss wants a corner!" indicating that the children were having an exciting game.

Presently Gilcrest, as he took another apple, said, glancing at the "Gazette" on the stand: "So Aaron Burr came within one of the Presidency! I'm glad the House decided in favor of Jefferson. He is bad enough, but Burr would have been even worse. Are you a Federalist or a Democrat, Mr. Dudley?"

"How could a Virginian be anything but a supporter of the great Jefferson?" replied Abner. "Could I have done so, I should have remained in Virginia until after the election, so as to cast my vote for Jefferson; but it was necessary for me to come to this State."

"An' glad we air thet you come," said Rogers, heartily.

"Being a Virginian ought to make you a Federalist, I should say," suggested Gilcrest. "You forget that a greater than Jefferson was born in Virginia."

"Then, as Massachusetts is your native State," said Dudley, "I suppose your Federalistic convictions are modeled according to the hard-and-fast principles laid down by Adams, rather than the more elastic federalism which Washington taught. That is, if place of birth really has anything to do with shaping one's political views."

"One could not have a better leader than John Adams," Gilcrest stoutly asserted.

"Whut!" exclaimed Rogers. "Afteh them Alien an' Sedition outrages?"

"Why, man!" Gilcrest retorted, "those very laws were for the saving of the nation."

"Though a Democrat, I'm inclined to agree with you there, Mr. Gilcrest," Dudley said.

"Ha, Mr. Dudley," said Gilcrest, pleasantly, "I've hopes of your conversion into a good Federalist yet. You're young, and your political prejudices haven't become chronic--as is the case with Mason here."

"My motto," rejoined Rogers, "is, 'Our State fust, then the nation.' The Federal Government didn't do no gre't shakes towa'ds he'pin' Kaintucky when redskins an' British skunks wuz 'bout to drive us offen the face o' the livin' airth."

"But, Mason, remember that at that time our nation was battling for independence, and could ill spare aid for us in our struggle for supremacy in this western frontier."

"Jes' so!" retorted Rogers. "An' whar'd you an' me an' the rest uv us who wuz strugglin' fur footholt heah hev been, ef we'd depended on the Federal Government to fight Caldwell, McKee, Simon Girty, an' ther red devils? We had to do our own fightin' then, you'll agree, Hiram."

"Why, Major Gilcrest," Dudley exclaimed, "were you an Indian-fighter? I thought you were a Revolutionary soldier."

"So I was," Gilcrest answered, "from the battle of Lexington until badly wounded in Virginia by Arnold's raiders in the spring of '81. Then, early in the next year I came to Kentucky."

"You surprise me," Abner replied. "I thought you did not settle here until after Indian depredations had ceased."

"Ha! ha!" laughed Gilcrest. "You thought I came like Abram from Ur of the Chaldees, bringing family, servants, goods and chattels, did you? No, I made that sort of migration several years later. I first came alone, to spy out the land, and to find a suitable location wherein to plant a home and rear a family. Descriptions of this new country beyond the mountains had led me to picture it a paradise of peace and plenty and tranquil beauty; but when I came, I found the picture obscured by the red billows of savage warfare. Why, the first time I ever saw Mason here, he was equipped with knife and tomahawk, rifle, pouch and powder-horn, and just setting forth to the relief of a beleaguered station."

"No wondeh," exclaimed Rogers, "thet you found me an' ev'ry otheh able-bodied man uv us should'rin' our guns an' gittin' knives an' tommyhocks ready! You see, Abner, the Injuns undeh ther white leadahs wuz thet year mekin' a stubbo'ner an' bettah planned warfare than eveh befoh. Ruddell's an' Martin's stations hed been demolished, an' follerin' close hed come, airly in the spring, the defeat at Estell's, an' a leetle later, Holder's defeat; an' heah in August, on top o' them troubles, comes accounts uv more massacrein's an' sieges. If eveh the right man come at the right hour, it wuz you, Hiram," Rogers continued, "when you rid inteh Fort Houston jest afteh we'd got the news. Ez soon's I clapped eyes on you I sized you up ez a fellah afteh my own heart--a man ready to go whar danger wuz thickest, a man whut would stand by a comrid tell the last drap uv his own blood wuz spilt. Will you eveh furgit thet seventeenth o' August, Hiram, an' the tur'ble days whut follehed on its heels?"

"Never, while life lasts," replied Gilcrest. "And, as for a comrade in time of peril, one could not want a braver or a truer than yourself, Mason. You see," he continued, turning to Dudley, "it was this way: Early that morning had come tidings that the Indians, a few days before, had surprised the scattered families around Hoy's, and had butchered many ere they could reach the fort. Hardly had this tidings been related before two more runners, half dead with fatigue, half-crazed with horror, came panting in from Bryan's to tell how Caldwell and Girty and their hordes of savages had surprised and surrounded that garrison. These two runners had managed to steal out under shelter of the tall corn back of the fort at Bryan's, to bring messages from Colonel Todd, imploring Fort Houston to come to the rescue. Other messengers had carried the same appeal to other stations. Ah!" he continued enthusiastically, "the men of Kentucky were brothers indeed in those trying times! And the garrisons of Houston, Harrods, St. Asaph's and all the other forts, responded as one man to that cry from Bryan's."

"Did you leave the women and children in Fort Houston?" asked Dudley.

"No, indeed," answered Rogers before Gilcrest could speak. "'Twuzn't safe. Houston's wuz li'ble to be attacked in our absence. Besides, it wuzn't ez big an' strong ez Bryan's, whar the stockades wuz bullet-proof, the gates uv solid puncheons, an' the houses within built afteh the ole block-house pattern. So we tuck our women an' childurn with us. Cynthy Ann, with our little William in her lap, rid behind me on the nag, an' I carried befoh me in the saddle a little chap belonging to one uv our men, who hed a sick wife an' a two-weeks-ole baby to look afteh. Thet was a sad, sad trip fur me an' Cynthy Ann," he murmured with a sudden break in his voice and a wistful look at his wife. "The hurryin' gallop oveh eighteen mile o' rough country with the br'ilin' sun a-scorchin' down on us all the way, cost us the life uv our fust-borned, our purty little William. I tell you," he added excitedly, "ef the men o' thet day showed up brave an' faithful, our women, God bless 'em, wuz even braver an' more endurin'."

"They were indeed," Gilcrest heartily agreed with an appreciative glance at Mrs. Rogers, "and it was their heroic self-sacrifice and noble endurance that made it possible for us to subdue this wilderness. When I reached here that summer of '82, and saw the terrible life of the pioneer women, I was thankful I had left my betrothed bride in Virginia. It took women of stout courage and nerve, such as you, Sister Rogers, to be really a helpmeet to a man in this wilderness of twenty years ago. A woman of weak nerve or faint heart would have succumbed under the hardships and danger."

"Like pore Page's wife," added Rogers.

"Pore Mrs. Page!" exclaimed Mrs. Rogers. "I'll nevah furgit her hard fate."

"She was the wife of one of the Page brothers who were with us at Blue Licks, was she not?" asked Gilcrest.

"Yes," Rogers answered. "The two brothers hed come oveh the mountains the spring befoh, an' hed built a cabin an' made a sort o' cl'arin' out in the wilderness 'bout two mile frum Houston's, on the road to Bryan's. One uv the brothahs--I can't re-collect his fust name--wuzn't married; but the otheh hed a wife an' a four-year-old boy when they come, an' anotheh child wuz borned to 'em 'bout two weeks befoh thet last Injun raid. They hed been warned agin an' agin thet it wuzn't safe outside the fort; but still they lived on out thar till thet tur'ble August mawnin'--when they runs pantin' inteh Houston's with the tidings thet the savages hed attacked ther cabin. They'd been roused in the night by the stompin' an' nickerin uv the hosses. It wuz a starlight night, an' peepin' out uv a loophole in the front uv ther house, they seen redskins skulkin' in the shadow o' the trees. They couldn't tell how many ther wuz, but nigh a dozen they thought, an' they didn't know how many more might be hidin' in the bushes. So they decided it wuz no use to try to defend themselves, an' that ther only chance to save ther scalps wuz to steal out befoh the Injuns got to the door. You see, they couldn't git to the hosses, fur the red imps wuz between the house an' whar the hosses wuz in the woods which grew up close to the cabin in front. But at the back the trees wuz all cl'ared off, an' ther wuz a gairden patch next to the cabin, an' then a cawnfiel'. The only door wuz in front, an' thar wuz no windah either in the back--only two little loopholes. One uv the puncheons in the floor hed been left loose a purpus, an' they took it up without mekin' any noise. Then, afteh waitin' tell they saw thet the Injuns hed skulked up nearly to the door, they crawled through the gap in the floor, an' then frum undeh the house into the gairden, an' then to the cawnfiel', an' stole through it to the woods on t'otheh side. Then they run fur ther lives, expectin' ev'ry minit to be attacked. It wuz a meracle they eveh reached the fort alive. Pore Mrs. Page wuz 'bout tuckered out. You see, her baby wuz barely two weeks old; besides, she 'peared to be a pore, weak-sperrited creeter, anyway; an' the long run an' the skeer hed well-nigh done fur her. It wuz her little boy, the four-year-old shaver, whut I toted befoh me as we hurried to Bryan's. On the road, we hed to pass the Pages' cl'arin', an' thar, still burnin', wuz the remains o' their cabin which the redskins hed fired. Ther gairden an' cawnfiel' wuz trompled an' blackened an' ruined; an' jes' on the aidge uv the woods by the roadside thar lay ther pore cow, still breathin', but welterin' in her own blood. The red devils hed split her wide open with a tommyhock. Mrs. Page fainted away when she saw thet, an' wuz most dead when we got to Bryan's. She got bettah, though, an' the next day when we sot out in pursuit uv the Injuns, her husband went with us. But, pore woman, she an' her baby both died thar in the fort befoh we got back."

Abner Dudley, listening with fascinated attention, was thrilled into strange excitement by the tantalizing impression of his having once been, as a little boy, a spectator or a participator in just such an episode as Mr. Rogers was describing--of the terror-stricken little family fleeing through the woods at night. He also seemed to recall the picture of a burning cabin, and of a slaughtered cow lying on the roadside. Still another picture seemed to flit before him--that of a group of women and children alone within high log walls, and of a bewildered, heart-broken little boy being lifted by one of these women from a rude pallet where lay a dying mother and a still-faced, tiny babe.

Often before to-night Dudley had had dim, fleeting fancies or imaginings of such a scene which always, when he would have recalled more clearly, would vanish entirely. Realizing how impossible it was that he, born and reared in a quiet Virginia village, could ever have lived such a scene, he had always, when tormented by the fancy, concluded that the impression was evoked by the memory of some tale heard in early childhood of the horrors of pioneer life. So now, instead of trying to follow up these tantalizing fancies, he dismissed them again from his mind.

"When we got to Bryan's," Rogers was saying when Abner again began to listen, "Girty an' Caldwell an' ther Wyandottes hed fled. The stockade hed held out agin 'em, an' all inside wuz safe. But, land o' liberty! whut a ruination all about the outside o' them walls! Oveh three hundurd dead cattle an' hogs an' sheep lay strowed 'round through the woods; the big cawnfiel's wuz cut down an' tromped an' ruined; so wuz the flax an' hempfiel's; an' the tater craps an' the other gairden stuff wuz pulled up. No wondeh we thusted fur vengeance. So us rescuin' parties an' the Bryan Station fo'ces, afteh a night consultation, set out et daybreak nex' mawnin' to folleh up an' punish. We thought ef we hurried we could soon ketch up with the enemy; so we didn't wait, as some o' the oldeh men advised, fur the reinfo'cements whut Gen'ral Logan hed already started."

"Had we waited," interrupted Gilcrest sadly, "no doubt the story of savage butchery enacted at Blue Licks two days later, might have had a different ending."

"Maybe so," assented Rogers, "or ef, when we did git to the springs thar on the banks uv the Lickin', we'd heeded the counsels uv Boone an' Todd an' Trigg, instid o' the lead o' thet red-headed, hot-blood Irishman, Hugh McGary, when he plunged his hoss inteh the river, an' wavin' his knife oveh his haid, challenged all whut wuzn't cowa'ds to folleh him. My soul! my hair rises yit when I think uv whut come next. On we all reshed afteh McGary inteh the river, an' up the redge on t'otheh side; fur, of course, Todd an' Boone an' our otheh rightful leadehs, whose advice we'd disregawded, wouldn't fursake us when they seed we wuz detarmined to rush it. Et fust, without ordeh or caution, we hustled forwa'd--until the foes sprung out uv ambush. Good Lawd! Ev'ry cliff, ev'ry bush an' cedah-tree wuz alive with them red devils; an' it seemed lak all hell hed bust loose on us. Still, Boone an' the otheh commandahs, afteh the fust minit's surprise, managed to rally us in spite o' the hell fire whut rained on us frum behind ev'ry tree an' rock. So when we'd reached the backbone uv the redge, we formed in some sort uv ordeh. Boone, fust in command, took the left wing; Todd, the centah; Trigg, the right; an' the Lincoln County men undeh Harlan, McBride an' McGary a sort o' advance guard. But 'twuz no use then. We only fired one round. Befoh we could reload, them devils wuz on us with tommyhocks an' scalpin'-knives. Then, a hand-to-hand fight fur a minit. Afteh thet, our men--all whut wuz left uv us--wuz mekin' back towa'ds the river, with the yellin', whoopin' swarm o' hell's imps at our heels."

"Who can depict the horrors of that day!" Gilcrest ejaculated. "It has been estimated that at least one-tenth of all the able-bodied men in Kentucky either fell on that battlefield, or were carried captive to meet lingering death by torture. You see," he continued, "we had thought we could have a better chance at the enemy on foot than on horseback, so we had dismounted before forming into line; and then we were so closely pursued that few had time to reach the horses."

"An' thet," said Rogers, taking up the narrative, "give the savages anotheh big edvantidge; fur they jumped on our hosses an' galloped afteh us, while we had to mek to the river on foot."

"Yes," said Gilcrest, "and if it hadn't been for you, Mason, I'd never have reached the river. A fierce Wyandotte brave mounted on one of our horses had picked me out as his special prey, and I, exhausted by my long, hot run, and already slightly wounded, could never have reached the ford but for your timely aid."

"Fo'tunately," Rogers put in, "I, who hadn't been so close pressed, hed hed time to reload my rifle. So we left thet Injun varmint rollin' in the dust with a bullet in his back, an' you an' me jumped on thet hoss an' swum the river. But, pshaw, Hiram! talk 'bout my savin' yer life! Thet wuz nothin' to some o' the brave things you an' others done thet day. Do you re-collect how two uv our men afteh they'd got safe oveh the river, instid o' mekin' fur the bresh, stopped thar on the bank in full range o' the Injuns on t'otheh side, an' rallied the men an' made 'em halt an' fire back at the whoopin' red demons, so's we pore wretches whut wuz still swimmin' fur life could hev some chance to escape? It wuz Ben Netherlands an' one uv the Page brothehs--Marshall Page, I believe 'twuz--who did thet."

"Marshall Page!" ejaculated Abner Dudley.

"Yes, it was Marshall Page, I think," answered Major Gilcrest; "but why your exclamation, Mr. Dudley? Do you know any one of that name?"

"I can't recall that I do," answered young Dudley; "but the name seems familiar, and, in fact, I have a dim impression, absurd though it may seem to you, of having heard or experienced many incidents such as you and Mr. Rogers have been describing. But my impressions may be baseless."

"Your impressions," said Gilcrest, "are doubtless only the faint memory of some tale heard in your early childhood. Such harrowing incidents as Mason and I were recalling were common enough in the pioneer days, and have furnished the theme of many a fireside recital. As for Marshall Page, you very likely have known some one of the name; for I believe there are still many Pages living in Virginia and Maryland; but you can not have known the man I mean--either Marshall Page or his brother, whose Christian name I can not recall just now--for he was killed there on the banks of the Licking while bravely helping his comrades to escape. Which brother was it, Mason?"

"Blest ef I know," Rogers replied; "but one, whicheveh it wuz, wuz killed at the Licking, an' the otheh wuz captured by the savages. Seems to me, though, I heard aftehwa'ds thet he escaped befoh they got to the Injun town way back in Ohio, an' thet he turned up agin at Bryan's thet fall, an' took the little Page boy back across the mountains to his own people. Wuzn't thet the way uv it, Cynthy Ann?"

"Yes," Mrs. Rogers answered, "Mary Jane Hart, who kept the little boy with her at the station afteh his motheh died, tole me about it the nex' summeh when she come oveh to Houston's one day, an' uv how she hated to part with him; fur she hed no childurn uv her own then, an' hed took a mighty fancy to the pore little fellah."

"Speaking of Netherland's and Page's brave deed," here spoke Major Gilcrest, "Mason, do you remember Aaron Reynolds' equally brave and self-sacrificing rescue of young Patterson that day?"

And the two veterans, spurred by each other's promptings into livelier recollection, painted in vivid colors many more of the stirring incidents of that most tragic event in the annals of pioneer Kentucky, the battle of Blue Lick Springs.

Young Dudley and Henry Rogers, their fighting blood aroused by the realistic portrayal, sat by with kindling eyes and quickened pulses, while each in his heart pictured some deed of daring heroism which himself might have achieved had he been in that memorable battle.

Mrs. Rogers' sewing lay unheeded in her lap as she rocked slowly to and fro, her gaze fixed upon the fire. She, too, was painting pictures and seeing visions of the long ago--pictures which included not only the heroic band of Kentucky's defenders in the midst of the bloody horrors of that battlefield, but also that band of devoted women shut up alone with their helpless little ones in that lonely station, not knowing what terrible fate was befalling husbands, brothers, kinsmen out in the wilderness, nor what even greater evils from lurking foes might at any moment beset themselves within their stockade fortress; and her brave lip trembled and the visions in the fire became dimmed and blurred as she thought of that terrible ride under the scorching rays of the August sun, and of the eighteen-months-old babe, her little William, who, already ailing before the departure from Houston's, and unable to bear the merciless heat of the long journey, had died in her arms at Bryan's two days later--hours before her husband returned from that ill-fated march to the Licking.

"No," she thought, as she wiped the tears from her eyes, and resumed her sewing, "our men didn't hev all the strugglin's an' the trials; we women fought our battles, too; an' ours, afteh all, wuz the hardest parts."