Doyle hesitated.
Brown"s eye glanced down the barrel of his revolver:
"Quick!"
The man saw he had no chance.
He mounted the ladder, the revolver following him. The mother"s terror-stricken eyes saw that each man was armed with two revolvers, a bowie knife and cutla.s.s.
"Don"t you scare "em," Brown warned.
"I won"t."
"Tell "em to come down and show us the way to Wilkinson"s."
"Boys!" the father called.
There was no answer at first, and the father wondered if they had heard and gotten weapons of some kind. He hoped not. It would be a useless horror to try to defend themselves before a mother"s eyes, and those little girls screaming beside her.
He hastened to call a second time and rea.s.sure their fears.
"Boys!"
William, the older one, answered drowsily:
"Yessir--"
"Come down, all of you. Some travelers are here who"ve lost the way.
They want you to help them get to Mr. Wilkinson"s."
"All right, sir."
The boys hastily slipped on their trousers and shoes.
"Tell "em to hurry," Brown ordered.
"Jest slip on yer shoes and britches," Doyle called.
The Surveyor held the lantern behind his body until the three sons had come down the ladder and he saw that they were unarmed.
He stepped to the fireplace, took the shotgun from the rack and handed it to Weiner.
The boys, startled at the group of stern armed men, instinctively moved toward their father, dazed by the a.s.sault.
Brown faced the group.
"You four men are my prisoners."
The mother left the trundle bed and faced the leader.
"Who are you?"
Brown dropped his lantern, fixed her with his eyes.
"I am the leader of the Northern Army."
"What are you doing here to-night?"
"I have come on a divine mission."
"Who sent you?"
"The Lord of Hosts in a Vision--"
"What are you going to do?"
"The will of G.o.d."
"What are you going to do?" she fairly screamed in his face.
"That is not for your ears, woman," was the stern answer. "I have important business with Southern settlers on the Pottawattomie to-night."
The woman"s intuition saw in a flash the hideous tragedy. With a cry of anguish she threw her arms around her husband"s neck, sobbing.
"Oh, John, John, my man, I told ye not to talk--but ye would tell folks what ye believed. Why couldn"t ye be still? Oh, my G.o.d, my G.o.d, it"s come to this!"
The man soothed her with tender touch.
"Hush, Mother, hush. You mustn"t take on."
"I can"t help it--I just can"t. G.o.d have mercy on my poor lost soul--"
She paused and looked at her boys.
With a scream she threw herself first on one and then on the other.
"Oh, my big fine boy! I can"t let you go! Where is G.o.d to-night? Is He dead? Has He forgotten me?"
The father drew her away and shook her sternly.
"Hush, Mother, hush! Yer can"t show the white feather like this!"
"I can"t help it. I can"t give up my boys!"
She paused and looked at Doyle.
"And I can"t give you up, my man--I just can"t!"
"Don"t, don"t--" the husband commanded. "We"ve got to be men now."