surely we have much cause for thankfulness this year, for the Lord
hath exceedingly blessed us. There are yet some things to be done
before the day comes, and I wish to meet it with my task finished. I
hear there is a ship in the harbor loaded with English merchandise,
and to-morrow I go to Boston, and if thou art so minded, thou canst go
with me."
This put the Goodwife in quite a flutter of excitement, for she had
not been away from home except to go to church for many months. She
got out her best gown that very evening, to be sure it was in proper
order, and while she got supper gave Nancy and Dan an endless string
of directions about their tasks in her absence.
Early the next morning she mounted the pillion behind her husband, and
the three children watched their departure, Dan clutching Nimrod, who
was determined to go with them, and the Goodwife calling back last
instructions to the little group until Penny was well on the road to
Charlestown.
The house seemed strangely lonely without the mother in it, but there
was no time for the children to mope, for there was all the work to
do in their parents' absence. Dan took command at once. "You 'll both
have to mind me now," he said to Nancy and Zeb. "I 'm the man of the
house."
"If thou 'rt the man of it, I 'm the woman, and thou and Zeb will both
have to do as _I_ say," retorted Nancy, "or else mayhap I 'll get thee
no dinner! Mother said I could make succotash, and thou lov'st that
better than anything. Mother said above all things not to let the fire
go out, for it would be hard to bring a fire-brand all the way from
the village. So do thou bring in a pile of wood and set Zeb to
chopping more."
[Illustration]
Dan counted his chances. "Very well," he said at last, with
condescension, "thou art a willful baggage but I 'll give thee thy
way! Only make the big kettle full."
All that day Nancy bustled importantly about the house, with her
sleeves rolled up and her skirts looped back under her apron in
imitation of her mother. She was better than her word and made
johnny-cake besides the succotash for dinner, and after they had eaten
it said to Dan, "If thou wilt go out to the field and bring in a
pumpkin, I 'll make thee some pies for supper."
Dan dearly loved pumpkin pie, and in his zeal to carry out the plan
brought in two great yellow globes from the corn-field instead of the
one Nancy had asked for. "Mercy upon us," said Nancy when he appeared,
beaming, with one under each arm, "those would make pies enough for
all Cambridge. Thine eyes hold more than thy stomach."
"There 's no such thing as too many pies," said Daniel stoutly, "and
if there 's any pumpkin left over, I 'll feed it to the pig."
"I 'll tell thee what we will do," said Nancy. "We will make a great
surprise for Mother and Father. When they come home they will be tired
and hungry and ready for a grand supper. Do thou and Zeb run down to
the bay and bring back a mess of clams. We 'll have the table all
spread and a bright fire burning to welcome them!"
Dan agreed to this plan and went out at once to call Zeb. He found him
by the straw-stack with an egg in each hand. "Take them in to Nancy,"
commanded Dan, pointing sternly toward the house. Zeb had meant to
dispose of them otherwise, for he had a bottomless appetite for eggs,
but he trotted obediently to the house at Dan's order, and then the
two boys started together for the bay, with Nimrod barking joyfully
and running about them in circles all the way.
[Illustration]
The fall days were short, and it was dusk before the evening chores
were done, and Dan came in to the bright kitchen with Zeb and Nimrod
both at his heels, and announced that he had a hole in his stomach as
big as a bushel basket. For answer Nancy pointed to four golden-brown
pies cooling on a shelf, and Dan smacked his lips in anticipation. Zeb
came alongside and, copying Dan, smacked his lips too.
"Go away, both of you," said Nancy. "You can only look at them now,
for I have everything ready for Father and Mother, and we must n't eat
until they come."
Dan looked about the room to see what Nancy's surprise might be. It
was a cheerful picture that met his eye. First of all there was Nancy
herself with her neat cap and white apron, putting the finishing
touches to the little feast she had prepared. She had spread the table
with the best linen and decorated it with a bunch of red berries. She
had even brought out the silver tankard from its hiding-place under
the eaves of the loft and placed it beside her father's trencher. The
clams were simmering on the fire, sending out an appetizing smell, and
the brown loaf was cut. The hickory logs snapped and sputtered, and
the flames danced gayly in the fireplace, setting other little flames
dancing in the shining pewter dishes arranged on a dresser across the
room. Nimrod was lying before the fire with his head on his paws,
asleep, and Zeb, squatted down beside him, was rolling his eyes
hungrily in the direction of the pies.
"I hope they 'll come soon," said Daniel, lifting the cover of the
kettle and sniffing. "If they do not 't is likely they 'll find me as
dead as a salt herring when they get here."
Nancy laughed and, breaking a slice of brown-bread in two, gave a
piece to each boy. "Take that to stay your stomachs," she said, "and,
for the rest, have patience."
For a long time they waited, and still there was no sound of hoofs
upon the road. Dusk deepened into darkness, and the harvest moon came
out from behind a cloud and shed a silvery light over the landscape.
Nancy went to the door and gazed toward the road.
"Dost think, brother, the Indians have waylaid them?" she asked Dan at
last.
"Nay," answered Dan. "They are likely delayed at the ferry. Should the
ferry-man be at his supper wild horses could not drag him from it,
I 'll be bound. They 'll come presently, never fear, but it will
doubtless grieve them much to see me lying stiff and cold on the
hearth! Nancy, thou takest a fearful chance in denying thy brother
food."
[Illustration]
But Nancy only laughed at his woebegone face. "Thou art indeed a
valiant trencher-man," she said. Then, suddenly inspired, she brought
him the extra pumpkin, which she had not used for the pies, set it
before him upon the hearth-stone, and gave him a knife. "Carve thyself
a jack-o'-lantern," she said. "'T will take up thy mind, and make thee
forget thy stomach." Dan took the knife, cut a cap from the top of the
pumpkin, and scooped out the seeds. Then he cut holes for the eyes and
nose, and a fearful gash, bordered with pointed teeth, for the mouth,
and Nancy brought him the stub of a bayberry candle to put inside. Zeb
watched the process with eyes growing wider and wider as the thing
became more and more like some frightful creature of his pagan
imagination. They were just about to light the candle when Nimrod gave
a sharp bark; there was a creaking noise outside, and Nancy, springing
joyfully to her feet, shouted, "They 've come!--they 've come!" She
was halfway to the door, when suddenly she stopped, stiff with fright.
There, looking in through the open shutter, was the face of an Indian!
Dan and Zeb saw it at the same moment, and Nimrod, barking madly,
rushed forward and leaped at the window. Giving one of his wildcat
shrieks, Zeb instantly went up the ladder to the loft with the agility
of a monkey. The head had bobbed out of sight so quickly that for an
instant Nancy hardly believed her own eyes, but in that instant
Dan had been quick to act. He pressed the catch concealed in the
fireplace, and, springing to his feet, seized Nancy and dragged her
back into the secret closet. They nearly fell over the pumpkin, which
lay directly in their path, and it rolled before them into the closet.
Once inside, they instantly closed the door, and, with wildly beating
hearts, sank down in the darkness. About a foot above the floor there
was a small knot-hole in the door, which the Goodman had purposely
left for a peep-hole, and to this Dan now glued his eyes. In spite of
Nimrod's frantic barking the house door was quietly opened, and when
the dog flew at the intruder, he was stunned by a blow from the butt
end of a musket, and his senseless body sent flying out of the door by
a kick from a moccasined foot.
Then two Indians crept stealthily into the room. They were surprised
to find it empty. Where could the children have gone? They prowled
cautiously about, looking under the table and behind everything that
might afford a hiding-place, and, finding no trace of them, turned
their attention in another direction. Dan was already near to bursting
with rage and grief over Nimrod, and now he had the misery of seeing
the larger of the two Indians take his father's musket from the
deer-horn on the chimney-piece, while the other, who already had a
gun, with grunts of satisfaction took the silver tankard from the
table and hid it under his deer-skin jacket. At first they did not
seem to notice the ladder to the loft. Soon, however, they paused
beside it, and after they had exchanged a few grunts the larger Indian
began to mount. It was plain they meant to make a thorough search for
the children who had so miraculously disappeared.
Dan remembered what his father had said about the Pequots; Nancy, with
sick fear in her heart for Zeb, was shivering in a heap on the floor,
her hands over her eyes, though that was quite unnecessary, since the
closet was pitch dark. Dan found her ear and whispered into it a brief
report of what he had seen. They could now hear the stealthy tread of
moccasined feet above them on the floor of the loft.
"While they 're upstairs," whispered Dan, "I 'm going to slip out and
get Father's pistol. It 's hanging behind a string of onions, and they
have n't found it."
"Oh, no!" gasped Nancy. She clung to him, and in trying to get up he
struck the pumpkin, which rolled away toward the outside wall of the
closet. Just then there was a fearful outburst of noise overhead.
There was the sound of something being dragged from under a bed across
the floor, something which clawed and shrieked and fought like a
wildcat. There were grunts and the thump of moccasined feet dancing
about in a lively struggle.
"Now is my chance," said Dan to himself, and, opening the door
cautiously, he made a dash for the pistol and snatched it from its
hiding-place. As he was leaping back to the closet, he saw the
bayberry candle lying on the hearth, and in that instant a wonderful
idea flashed into his mind. He picked up the candle, lit it from the
flames, and scurried back to his hiding-place just as the legs of an
Indian appeared at the top of the ladder. He shut the door swiftly
behind him, and, giving the candle to Nancy, told her to set it inside
the pumpkin. Crawling to the other end of the closet, Nancy did as she
was bid, while Dan, with his eye at the peep-hole, watched the two
Indians drag poor Zeb between them down the ladder and out the door.
Eager to see where they went, Dan climbed up to the little window of
the closet and peered out into the night. By the moonlight he could
see the two men dragging Zeb in the direction of the straw-stack. They
were having a hard time of it, for Zeb struggled fiercely, and they
had their guns and the tankard to take care of as well, and in
addition, to Dan's horror, one of them was waving a burning brand
which he had snatched from the fire in passing! Dan trembled so with
excitement that he nearly fell from his perch, but kept his wits about
him. "Give me the pumpkin," he said to Nancy, and when she reached it
up to him, he set the lurid, grinning face in the window. "Now the
pistol," he said, and, sticking the muzzle through the opening beside
the jack-o'-lantern, he fired it into the air.
The shot was answered by a chorus of yells from the three figures by
the straw-stack. Scared out of their wits by the unexpected shot and
by the frightful apparition which suddenly glared at them out of the
darkness, the Indians took to their heels and ran as only Indians can
run, dragging poor Zeb with them.
"They 're gone," shouted Dan, dropping to the floor, "but they 've set
the straw-stack afire!"
[Illustration]
By the dim light of the jack-o'-lantern grinning in the window, he
found the catch of the door, and the two children burst out of the
closet. Seizing a bucket of water which stood by the hand-basin in
the corner, Dan dashed out of doors, followed by Nancy, whose fear of
Indians was now overmastered by fear of fire. If their beautiful new
house should be burned! She ran to the well-sweep, and while Dan
worked like a demon, stamping on burning straws with his feet, and
pouring water on the spreading flames, she swiftly plunged first one
bucket, then another, into the well and filled Dan's pail as fast as
it was emptied. In spite of these heroic efforts the fire spread. All
they could do was to keep the ground wet about the stack and watch the
flying sparks lest they set fire to the house. Over the lurid scene
the jack-o'-lantern grinned down at them until the candle sputtered
and went out.
[Illustration]
The straw-stack was blazing fiercely, lighting the sky with a red
glare, when in the distance they heard the beat of a drum. Gran'ther
Wattles had seen the flames and was rousing the village. Then there
were hoof-beats on the road, and into the fire-light dashed Penny with
the terrified Goodman and his wife on her back. Once they knew their
children were safe, they did not stop for questions, but at once set
to work to help them check the fire, which was now spreading among the
dry leaves. The Goodwife ran for her broom, which she dipped in water
and then beat upon the little flames as they appeared here and there
in the grass. The Goodman mounted to the roof at once, and, with Dan
to fetch water and Nancy to bring up buckets from the well, they
managed to keep it too wet for the flying sparks to set it afire. At
last the neighbors, roused by Gran'ther Wattles's frantic alarm, came
hurrying across the pastures; but the distance was so great that
the flames had died down and the danger was nearly over before they
arrived.
[Illustration]
There was now time for explanations, and, surrounded by an eager and
grim-visaged circle, Nancy and Dan told their story. "There 's a brave
lad for you!" cried Stephen Day, when the tale was finished, patting
Dan on the shoulder. "Aye, and a brave lass, too," added another.
Their father and mother said no words of praise, but there was a glow
of pride in their faces as they looked at their children and silently
thanked God for their safety.
"We can do nothing to-night," said Goodman Pepperell at last, "but,
neighbors, if you are with me, to-morrow we will go into the woods and
see if we can find any trace of the black boy. Doubtless by stealing
him and burning the house they thought to revenge themselves for the
Indian whom I wounded on my way home from Plymouth. They must have
been watching the house, and, seeing us depart this morning, knew well
that they had naught but children to deal with."
"Aye, but such children!" said Stephen Day, who had been greatly
impressed by the story of the jack-o'-lantern. "We 'll follow them,
indeed, and if we find them"--his jaw shut with a snap and he said no
more.
[Illustration]
While the men laid their plans for the morrow, the children and their
mother stole round to the front of the house, and Dan began a search
for Nimrod. He had been neither seen nor heard since the Indian had
given him that fearful blow and thrown him out. They found him lying
a few feet from the house still half stunned, and Dan lifted him
tenderly in his arms, brought him into the house, and laid him down
before the fire, where he had slept so peacefully only one short hour
before. Nimrod licked his hand, and rapped his tail feebly on the
hearthstone. Nancy wept over him, while Dan bathed his wounded head,
and tried to find out if any bones were broken.
"Poor Nimrod," said the Goodwife, as she set a bowl of milk before the
wounded dog, "thou art a brave soldier. Drink this and soon thou wilt
be wagging thy tail as briskly as ever."
She stirred the fire and lit the candles, and when the Goodman came in
a few moments later, the little family looked about their new home to
see what damage had been done. Nancy's little feast was a sad wreck.
There were the pies, to be sure, but the table-cloth was awry and the
flowers were tipped over and strewn about the floor, which was
covered with the tracks of muddy feet. In the scuffle with Zeb the
spinning-wheel had been overturned and the settle was lying on its
back on the floor. The room looked as if a hurricane had passed
through it. The Goodman mourned the loss of his gun, and the Goodwife
grieved for her tankard, but all smaller losses were forgotten in
their distress about Zeb. Not only had he cost the Goodman a large sum
of money, but in the weeks he had been with them he had found his own
place in the household, where he would be sadly missed. Worst of all
was their anxiety about his fate at the hands of the Indians.
"Come," said the Goodwife at last, when they had heard every event of
the day twice over, "we must eat, or we shall have scant courage for
the duties of the morrow. We have none of us tasted food since noon."
The clams were still simmering gently in the pot, and she gave them
each a porringer of broth, which they ate sitting in a circle about
the hearth-stone. Then she put the room in order, and though her heart
was heavy, tried to talk of the events of their day in Boston as if
nothing had happened.
[Illustration]
"We saw Captain Sanders in town," she said to the children. "He hath
brought the Lucy Ann to port with a load of cod for the market and
with fish and game for Thanksgiving. I have his promise that he will
dine with us if God wills. He hath not yet seen our new house. Alas! I
shall have no tankard to set before him; yet, ungrateful that I am,
we are still rich in blessings! 'T is well we have a day set aside to
remind us of them."
It was very late when at last the excitement had died down enough to
think of sleep. The Goodman went out to make sure there was no fire
left lurking in the grass, and to take a look at the horse and cow.
As he passed the smoking ashes of the straw-stack, his foot struck
something which rang like metal, and in the moonlight something
glistened in the path before him. Stooping, he felt for it, and was
overjoyed to grasp the tankard, which the Indian had lost in the
struggle with Zeb. He carried it in to his wife at once. She seized it
with a cry of joy.
"'T is a good omen," she said. "Mayhap thou 'lt find thy musket
too." Her husband shook his head gravely. "I 'll have need of one
to-morrow," he said. "'T is well I still have my fowling-piece and my
pistol." Then he called the family together and, kneeling beside the
settle, committed them to God's keeping for the night.
[Illustration]
VI
HARVEST HOME
Before daylight the next morning the Goodwife stood in the door of the
new house and watched her husband set forth with the men of Cambridge
to search the forest for Zeb, and to punish his captors if they should
catch them. She had given him a good breakfast and filled his pockets
with bread for the journey, and when the men came from the village,
she cut Nancy's pies and gave them each a generous piece to eat before
starting. There were eight men in the party, all armed. The Goodwife's
lip trembled a little and then moved in prayer as she saw them
disappear into the dark forest. "God grant that they may all return in
safety," she murmured, and then, giving herself a little shake, she
turned back into the house and resolutely set herself at the duties of
the day.
Nimrod whined and tried to follow his master as the men marched away
with their guns on their shoulders, but, finding himself too weak, lay
down again on the hearth and went to sleep. The Goodwife cleaned the
kitchen, removing the last traces of the intruders, and then began
a patient march back and forth, back and forth, beside the whirling
spinning-wheel. Now that the harvest was over and their food provided
for the winter, her busy hands must spin the yarn and weave the cloth
to keep them warm. Though she had meant to let the children sleep
after the excitement of the previous day, it was still early when they
were awakened by the whir of the wheel and came scuttling down from
the loft as bright-eyed as if the adventures of the night before had
been no more than a bad dream. They helped themselves to hasty pudding
and milk and took a dishful to Nimrod, who was now awake and looking
much more lively, and then their mother set them their tasks for the
day.
"Nancy," said she, "I gave all thy pies to the men who have gone with
father to hunt for Zeb. To-morrow will be Thanksgiving Day and we
shall need more. The mince pies are already prepared and put away on
the shelves, and thou canst make apple and pumpkin both to set away
beside them in the secret closet."
"That makes me think," said Daniel, and, touching the secret
spring, he opened the door and rescued the jack-o'-lantern from the
window-sill.
It was only a wilted and blackened old pumpkin that he brought to his
mother, but she smiled at it and patted the hideous head. "He hath
been a good friend to us, Dan," she said, "e'en as say the Scriptures,
'God hath chosen the weak things of the earth to confound the mighty.'
David went out against Goliath with a sling and a stone, and thou hast
overcome savages with naught but a foolish pumpkin."
[Illustration]
Nancy took the grinning head and set it on the chimney-piece. "Dear
old Jacky," she said, "thou shalt come to our Thanksgiving feast. 'T
is no more than thy due since thou hast saved us from the savages."
"Nay, daughter," said her mother. "That savoreth of idolatry. Give
thy praise unto God, who useth even things which are not to bring to
naught the things that are. 'T is but a pumpkin after all, and will
make an excellent feast for the pig on the morrow. Daniel, go to the
field and bring thy sister a fresh one for the pies and then hasten
to thine own tasks. They wait for thee. While thy father is away
searching for Zeb, thou must do his work as well as thine own."
"Dost think, Mother, that he will surely bring Zeb back in time for
the feast?" asked Nancy anxiously.
"Let us pray, nothing doubting," answered the mother. "If it be God's
will, they will return."
There was a tremor in her voice even as she spoke her brave words, for
she knew well the perils of their search. All day long they worked,
praying as they prepared the feast that they might share it a united
family. Nancy made the pies, and Dan dressed a fowl, while their
mother got ready a pot of beans, made brown-bread to bake in the oven
with the pies, and steamed an Indian pudding. All day they watched the
forest for sign of the returning men. All day they listened for the
sound of guns, but neither sight nor sound rewarded their vigilance.
[Illustration]
Dusk came on. The Goodwife set a candle in the window, and when her
other tasks were finished, went back to her spinning. Not a moment was
she idle, nor did she appear to her children to be anxious, but as
she walked back and forth beside her wheel Nancy heard her murmuring,
"Because thou hast made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the most
High, thy habitation, there shall no evil befall thee, neither shall
any plague come nigh thy dwelling." Over and over she said it to
herself, never slacking her work meanwhile.
The supper which Nancy prepared waited--one hour--two--after Dan had
fed the cattle and brought in the milk, and still there was no sign of
the searching party.
Suddenly Nimrod, from his place on the hearth, gave a short sharp
bark, and, leaping to the window, stood with his paws on the sill,
peering out into the darkness and whining. Dan was beside him in an
instant. "I see them," he cried joyfully, "a whole parcel of them.
They are just coming out from behind the cow-shed."
Nancy and her mother reached the window almost at the same moment, and
as the shadowy figures emerged from behind the cow-shed the mother
counted them breathlessly, "One--two--three--four--five--"
"There 's Father!" shrieked Nancy.
"He 's carrying something. Oh, dost think it is Zeb?"