"I hope they 'll come soon," said Daniel, lifting the cover of the
kettle and sniffing. "If they do not 't is likely they 'll find me as
dead as a salt herring when they get here."

Nancy laughed and, breaking a slice of brown-bread in two, gave a
piece to each boy. "Take that to stay your stomachs," she said, "and,
for the rest, have patience."

For a long time they waited, and still there was no sound of hoofs
upon the road. Dusk deepened into darkness, and the harvest moon came
out from behind a cloud and shed a silvery light over the landscape.
Nancy went to the door and gazed toward the road.

"Dost think, brother, the Indians have waylaid them?" she asked Dan at
last.

"Nay," answered Dan. "They are likely delayed at the ferry. Should the
ferry-man be at his supper wild horses could not drag him from it,
I 'll be bound. They 'll come presently, never fear, but it will
doubtless grieve them much to see me lying stiff and cold on the
hearth! Nancy, thou takest a fearful chance in denying thy brother
food."

[Illustration]

But Nancy only laughed at his woebegone face. "Thou art indeed a
valiant trencher-man," she said. Then, suddenly inspired, she brought
him the extra pumpkin, which she had not used for the pies, set it
before him upon the hearth-stone, and gave him a knife. "Carve thyself