Here and there a torch light flickered
on the surface of the stream, showing the pale faces of the women
and children, too frightened to cry. They had fled in haste,
bringing with them only the clothes they wore and maybe a blanket
or two. The borderers knew too well what Indian war was, with
all its accompaniments of fire and the stake.
Henry and his comrades helped nearly all that night. They
secured a large boat and crossed the river again and again,
guarding the fugitives with their rifles, and bringing comfort to
many a timid heart. Indian bands had penetrated far into the
Wyoming Valley, but they felt sure that none were yet in the
neighborhood of Forty Fort.
It was about three o'clock in the morning when the last of the
fugitives who had yet come was inside Forty Fort, and the labors
of the five, had they so chosen, were over for the time. But
their nerves were tuned to so high a pitch, and they felt so
powerfully the presence of danger, that they could not rest, nor
did they have any desire for sleep.
The boat in which they sat was a good one, with two pairs of
oars. It had been detailed for their service, and they decided
to pull up the river.
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