Tying their horses
behind the house, where they would be hidden from the road, they
tried various expedients to gain an entrance, but the logs and
heavy planks baffled them. At last one of the number suggested
that they should ascend the roof and climb down the wide flue of
the chimney. This plan was easy of execution, and for a few
moments the stout farmer thought that his hour had come. With a
heroism far beyond that of the man who strikes down his assailant,
he prepared to suffer all things rather than take life with his
own hands.
But his wife proved equal to this emergency. She had been making
over a bed, and a large basket of feathers was within reach. There
were live coals on the hearth, but they did not give out enough
heat to prevent the ruffians from descending. Two of them were
already in the chimney, and were threatening horrible vengeance if
the least resistance was offered. Upon the coals on the hearth the
housewife instantly emptied her basket of feathers; and a great
volume of pungent, stifling smoke poured up the chimney.
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