The
threats of the men, who by means of ropes were cautiously
descending, were transformed into choking, half-suffocated sounds,
and it was soon evident that the intruders were scrambling out as
fast as possible. A hurried consultation on the roof ensued, and
then, as if something had alarmed them, they galloped off. With
the exception of the cries of the peepers, or hylas, in an
adjacent swamp, the night soon grew quiet around the closed and
darkened dwelling. Farmer Reynolds bowed in thanksgiving over
their escape, and then after watching a few hours, slept as did
thousands of others in those times of anxiety.
But Phebe did not sleep. She grew old by moments that night as do
other girls by months and years; as never before she understood
that her father's life was in peril. How much that life meant to
her and the little brood of which she was the eldest! How much it
meant to her dear mother, who was soon again to give birth to a
little one that would need a father's protection and support! As
the young girl lay in her little attic room, with dilated eyes and
ears intent on the slightest sound, she was ready for any heroic
self-sacrifice, without once dreaming that she was heroic.
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