Captain Godfrey consulted with his wife as to the wisest course to be
pursued, but no definite line of action was arranged. The two old
muskets were in the bedroom, loaded, not having been discharged since
they were fired off on leaving Fort Frederick. The Captain's wife ran to
the room and brought out both guns into the kitchen. She handed one to
her husband remarking, "if the brutes attempt to force their way into
the house shoot the first one that puts his moccasin over the door
sill." At this time the howling, yelling and cursing of the
blood-thirsty fiends would strike terror into the stoutest heart.
Finally they took up a large stick of wood that was lying near the
kitchen door and made a desperate attempt to smash it in. Mrs. Godfrey,
who had stood near the door for sometime, appeared calm and decided amid
all the murderous clamour. She stepped back a pace, and placing the butt
of the musket against her hip, with the muzzle slanting upwards, stood
firm as a statue.

The door was soon forced and the fiends came tumbling in. Mrs. Godfrey
fired, the charge going over the heads of the savages and entering the
ceiling above the door. The Indians in the rear seeing their comrades
fall, and thinking they were killed by the shot, at once retreated
uttering terrible threats of vengeance. One of the squaws, a short,
stout old creature, was so terrified by the report of the musket and the
falling to the floor of the three Indians, that in her bewildered
retreat she tumbled headlong down a steep, stony bank and laid as if
dead on the ice below. She was left by her companions, who travelled as
fast as their legs would carry them. The old squaw was found and taken
prisoner by Mrs. Godfrey. Her nose and one rib were broken, her left arm
dislocated at the elbow, and both her eyes completely closed with heavy
shutters. She presented a pitiable appearance, as she staggered along
toward the house supported by her captor. The Indians were so completely