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Show Page 192 to what went on below with a horrid fascination I could not understand. Unuttered prayers died upon my lips as I watched the butchery. I wondered where Richard was. Why had he not appeared to rally the people and defend the town? Where were all the muskets and the fine armor he was so proud of? WHAT WAS TAKING HIM SO LONG? It seemed as though the bloodshed had been going on for hours, but I knew only a few minutes had passed since the first screams had rent the air. At last Richard appeared outside the new house, dressed only in his breeches. He held a musket in his hand and his sword was at his side. An Indian was laying a burning pine knot to the longhouse thatch, and Richard raised the musket and fired. The shot went astray and the native crept inside the compound palisade. Richard looked toward the fort as though about to race toward it and its store of weapons. Then he looked toward the Davidsons', from whence a curl of flame was beginning to rise. Instead of going to the fort, he drew his sword and ran toward the company compound. Bellowing like a bull, he charged through the gate near the potter's shed and into the yard, intending, no doubt, to cut through it and on across the gully. His cry would echo in my memory forever, for as he came through the gate, he called my name. "SARAH!" he bawled. "SARAAAAAH!" |