The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1889-11-02

About midnight we were all startled by a
loud noise and q cry, "Sakes'a-iiVe' Oar
dey isl" -,
1t was true they were there. we couiu
hear their dreadful voices and the stamping
of their horses feet outside our gate.
"Don't you be skeered," Aunt Becky Said'
family; ''me en- dc muskit's hyer.
"Hellou they shouted at the gate, and we
exnected every moment that they would
come right into the house, horses and all,
and ride over us and then burn US.
We huddled close together in mothers
room and listened to those awful "Hellos!
This was war, indeed, and our enemies were
at our very gates.
Don't be afraid. children" mother said.
"God will stay with us now"
This must have helped Aunt Becky. for she
sprang to her feet and made the one great
effort of her life. She snatched the old
musket from the corner, threw 1t over her
shoulder, and before any one knew what she
was doing she had unbuttoned the door and
stepped on the back porch. 1t seemed so
terrible to think of her facing those raiders
alone and In the dark
In an instant we heard snap, then bang,
then a loud cry from Aunt Becky: "Dar,
now, done kilt himm Then the musket
fell to the floor and all was still on the porch.
1t was tragic moment for us, and we hid
our faces on the bed, too Mortified to cry or
speak.
Hello. there! Stop that gun or We'll fire.
We don't want to fight"
Thqrp ypae No ansuar from limit RaoLv
and mother saw that somebody must speak
or the raiders would be in the house in mo-
ment. So she stepped to the door through
which Aunt Becky had Just passed, and said,
"What do you want?"
"Where is the next 'crick our horses want
water" was the answer.
"Follow the road straight ahead for half q
mile" mother said.
Then there was quick spoken order and
away they went. We listened to the gallop-
ing steps, the halloos and the snatches Of
song, as they grew fainter and fainter and at
last died away.
Could it be true that the midnight raid had
ended so peaceably; that nothing more
would happen?
| Now that they were gone and Aunt Becky
had not returned, we began to wonder what
had become Of her. We even went to the
door and called her as loudly as we dared
but there was no answer. She had gone Sc
suddenly from the perch after the muskei
had been fired, and there was not trace Of
her that we could see or hear anywhere.
To my mind there was but one thing thai
could have happened to her. She had beer
stolen and carried off by the raiders. l sob
bed out this thought to the bed clothes, bu
did not tell it to any one else.
With the first faint light of morning w
rushed from the house to arouse the darkies
and to set everybody looking for Aun
Becky. We peered under the house and il
chicken house; perhaps she had gone Their
to take care of the chickens; but 1 saw NJ
sign of her.
Some of the darkies had even started OF
down the road that the raiders took, and b,
the time the sun came up the whole farm
was in commotion. At last, just as we wer
looking under the back steps for the thir
time, some one shouted: "Dar she is! Oar
Aunt Becky!"
/
ly and stiffiy along the path which led fror
the fields, past the cabins, to the house
Aunt Becky looked very cross and sour, an
would not raise her eyes at first But W
were all so glad to see her that she could nc
stay cross long. Mother hurried to meet he
and said: "What's the matter, Becky
Where have you been? We've been S
frightened abought you"
SIS dey gomez" was the answer.
"Long ago; they didn't stay but minut
or two after you fired. But where have 20
been?"
For while Aunt Becky would not sa
anything. but after little she seated hersel
on the back steps. and 1t seemed as if ever
one of her bones cracked as she did SO.
"Wuz dey air dead sojer roun' de gate di
mawnin'?" she asked. There was twink
in her eye that made us laugh. Then sh
went on: "W'en got on dat po'ch la'
night say ter myself 'Now's yer tint
| Racky'