Then, tomahawk in hand, she rushed forward. In judging Mary
Newton, one must consider time and place.
But happily there was no need for her to use her tomahawk. As
the five rushed in, four of them emptied their double-barreled
pistols, while Henry swung his clubbed rifle with terrible
effect. It was too much for the Senecas. The apparition of the
armed woman, whom they had left bound, and the deadly fire from
the five figures that sprang upon them, was like a blow from the
hand of Aieroski. The unhurt and wounded fled deep into the
forest, leaving their dead behind. Mary Newton, her great deed
done, collapsed from emotion and weakness. The screams of the
children sank in a few moments to frightened whimpers. But the
oldest, when they saw the white faces, knew that rescue had come.
Paul brought water from the brook in his cap, and Mary Newton was
revived; Jim was reassuring the children, and the other three
were in the thickets, watching lest the surviving Senecas return
for attack.
"I don't know who you are, but I think the good God himself must
have sent you to our rescue," said Mary Newton reverently.
"We don't know," said Paul, "but we are doing the best we can.
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