Mother and I were very much excited and hardly knew what to do. Finally it
was determined to hide upstairs in hopes that the men were bent on
stealing chickens or pigs, and might leave without disturbing the house.
We locked the doors and went upstairs, taking with us the old musket and
the butcher knife. We could hear the men about the barn, and after what
seemed an interminable time we heard them coming towards the house.

Though shaking all over, I summoned courage enough to go to the window and
look out of a hole in the shade. As the men came into sight around the
corner, I screamed outright, but from relief rather than fear, for the men
were not soldiers, but Grandpa Smith and his fourteen-year-old grandson.
They stopped at the well to get a drink, and when we opened the window,
the old man said, "We're just on our way to mow the back lot and stopped
to grind the scythe on your stone. We broke ours yesterday."

Then he picked up the scythe which in the fog I had taken for a saber,
while the grandson again shouldered his pitchfork musket.


What effect would it have on the interest aroused by the preceding story
to begin it as follows?


"One morning during the Civil War, I saw two of my neighbors, Grandpa
Smith and his grandson, crossing our orchard, one carrying a scythe and
the other a pitchfork."


Why is the expression, "before the fog had lifted," used near the