the valley beyond to the shore of the Big Creek.

"I'm hot 'nough to sizzle an' smoke when I tech water," said the scout
as he waded in, holding his rifle and powder-horn in his left hand
above the creek's surface.

They had a few strokes of swimming at mid-stream but managed to keep
their powder dry.

"Now we've got jest 'nough hoppin' to keep us from gittin' foundered,"
said Solomon, as he stood on the farther shore and adjusted his pack.
"It ain't more'n a mile to your house."

They hurried on, reaching the rough valley road in a few minutes.

"Now I'll take the bee trail to your place," said the scout. "You cut
ercrost the medder to Peter Boneses' an' fetch 'em over with all their
grit an' guns an' ammunition."

Solomon found John Irons and five of his sons and three of his
daughters digging potatoes and pulling tops in a field near the house.
The sky was clear and the sun shining warm. Solomon called Irons aside
and told him of the approaching Indians.

"What are we to do?" Irons asked.

"Send the women an' the babies back to the sugar shanty," said Solomon.
"We'll stay here 'cause if we run erway the Boneses'll git their ha'r
lifted. I reckon we kin conquer 'em."