that at least a wound had been given. Just beyond,
the gang evidently had dispersed, each one for himself,
leaving behind everything that impeded their progress.
The region was almost impenetrable in its wildness
except by those who knew all its rugged paths.
The body of the man whom June had wounded, however,
was found, clothed in a suit of Quaker drab stolen
from Mr.
Reynolds. The rest of the band with
few exceptions met with fates that accorded with their
deeds.
Phebe had the happiness of nursing her father back
to health, and although maimed and disfigured, he
lived to a ripe old age. If the bud is the promise
of the flower, Phebe must have developed a womanhood
that was regal in its worth; at the same time I believe
that she always remained a modest, demure little Quakeress,
and never thought of her virtues except when reminded
of them in plain English.
Note—In the preceding narrative I
have followed almost literally a family tradition
of events which actually occurred.
