loop-holes, through which he might fire upon an assailant. His wife was
stout-hearted as himself, and could load as fast as he could fire; and
then he had an ancient and redoubtable sister, Nochie Van Wurmer, a
match, as he said, for the stoutest man in the country. Thus garrisoned,
the little Roost was fit to stand a siege, and Jacob Van Tassel was the
man to defend it to the last charge of powder.

He was, as I have already hinted, of pugnacious propensities; and, not
content with being a patriot at home, and fighting for the security of
his own fireside, he extended his thoughts abroad, and entered into a
confederacy with certain of the bold, hard-riding lads of Tarrytown,
Petticoat Lane, and Sleepy Hollow, who formed a kind of Holy
Brotherhood, scouring the country to clear it of Skinner and Cow-boy,
and all other border vermin. The Roost was one of their rallying points.
Did a band of marauders from Manhattan island come sweeping through the
neighborhood, and driving off cattle, the stout Jacob and his compeers
were soon clattering at their heels, and fortunate did the rogues esteem
themselves if they could but get a part of their booty across the lines,
or escape themselves without a rough handling. Should the mosstroopers
succeed in passing with their cavalcade, with thundering tramp and dusty
whirlwind, across Kingsbridge, the Holy Brotherhood of the Roost would
rein up at that perilous pass, and, wheeling about, would indemnify
themselves by foraging the refugee region of Morrisania.

When at home at the Roost, the stout Jacob was not idle; but was prone
to carry on a petty warfare of his own, for his private recreation and
refreshment. Did he ever chance to espy, from his look-out place, a
hostile ship or galley anchored or becalmed near shore, he would take
down his long goose-gun from the hooks over the fire-place, sally
out alone, and lurk along shore, dodging behind rocks and trees, and