FullReads

Joe’s fingers were creamy; his mouth was half filled with Johnny-cake, and his pocket on the right bulged to its utmost capacity with the same, as he held forth the basket; but the little woman was afraid to trust him, as she had been afraid to trust her neighbors.

“No! No!” she replied, to his repeated offers. “I know what I’ll do. You, Joe Devins, stay right where you are until I come back, and, don’t you even look out of the window.”

“Dear, dear me!” she cried, flushed and anxious when she was out of sight of Uncle John and Joe. “I wish I’d given ’em to Colonel Barrett when he was here before daylight, only, I was afraid I should never get sight of them again.”

She drew off one of her stockings, filled it, tied the opening at the top with a string–plunged stocking and all into a pail full of water and proceeded to pour the contents into the well.

Just as the dark circle had closed over the blue stocking, Joe Devins’ face peered down the depths by her side, and his voice sounded out the words: “O Mother Moulton, the British will search the wells the very first thing. Of course, they expect to find things in wells!”

“Why didn’t you tell me before, Joe? but now it is too late.”

“I would, if I had known what you was going to do; they’d been a sight safer in the honey tree.”

“Yes, and what a fool I’ve been–flung my watch into the well with the spoons!”

“Well, well! Don’t stand there, looking!” as she hovered over the high curb, with her hand on the bucket. “Everybody will know, if you do.”

“Martha! Martha!” shrieked Uncle John’s quavering voice from the house door.

“Bless my heart!” she exclaimed, hurrying back over the stones.

“What’s the matter with your heart?” questioned Joe.

“Nothing. I was thinking of Uncle John’s money,” she answered.

“Has he got money?” cried Joe. “I thought he was poor, and you took care of him because you were so good!”

Not one word that Joe uttered did the little woman hear. She was already by Uncle John’s side and asking him for the key to his strong box.

Uncle John’s rheumatism was terribly exasperating. “No, I won’t give it to you!” he cried, “and nobody shall have it as long as I am above ground.”

“Then the soldiers will carry it off,” she said.

“Let ’em!” was his reply, grasping his staff firmly with both hands and gleaming defiance out of his wide, pale eyes. ” You won’t get the key, even if they do.”

At this instant, a voice at the doorway shouted the words, “Hide, hide away somewhere, Mother Moulton, for the Red Coats are in sight this minute!”

She heard the warning, and giving one glance at Uncle John, which look was answered by another “No, you won’t have it,” she grasped Joe Devins by the collar of his jacket and thrust him before her up the staircase so quickly that the boy had no chance to speak, until she released her hold, on the second floor, at the entrance to Uncle John’s room.

The idea of being taken a prisoner in such a manner, and by a woman, too, was too much for the lad’s endurance. “Let me go!” he cried, the instant he could recover his breath. “I won’t hide away in your garret, like a woman, I won’t. I want to see the militia and the minute men fight the troops, I do.”

“Help me first, Joe. Here, quick now! Let’s get this box out and up garret. We’ll hide it under the corn and it’ll be safe,” she coaxed.

The box was under Uncle John’s bed.

“What’s in the old thing anyhow?” questioned Joe, pulling with all his strength at it.

The box, or chest, was painted red, and was bound about by massive iron bands.