The Green Door | Page 3

coming out, and she knew that
they were savage whoops of Indians, just as she had read about them in
her history-book, and she saw also dark forms skulking about behind
the trees, as she had read.
Then Letitia, wild with fright, turned to run back into the house through
the little green door, but there was no little green door, and, more than
that, there was no house. Nothing was to be seen but the forest and a
bridle-path leading through it.
Letitia gasped. She could not believe her eyes. She ran out into the path
and down it a little way, but there was no house. The dreadful yells
sounded nearer. She looked wildly at the undergrowth beside the path,
wondering if she could hide under that, when suddenly she heard a

gun-shot and the tramp of a horse's feet. She sprang aside just as a great
horse, with a woman and two little girls on his back, came plunging
down the bridle-path and passed her. Then there was another gun-shot,
and a man, with a wide cape flying back like black wings, came rushing
down the path. Letitia gave a little cry, and he heard her.
"Who are you?" he cried breathlessly. Then, without waiting for an
answer, he caught her up and bore her along with him. "Don't speak,"
he panted in her ear. "The Indians are upon us, but we're almost home!"
Then all at once a log-house appeared beside the path, and someone
was holding the door ajar, and a white face was peering out. The door
was flung open wide as they came up, the man rushed in, set Letitia
down, shut the door with a crash, and shot some heavy bolts at top and
bottom.
Letitia was so dazed that she scarcely knew what happened for the next
few minutes. She saw there a pale-faced woman and three girls, one
about her own age, two a little younger. She saw, to her great
amazement, the horse tied in the corner. She saw that the door was of
mighty thickness, and, moreover, hasped with iron and studded with
great iron nails, so that some rattling blows that were rained upon it
presently had no effect. She saw three guns set in loopholes in the walls,
and the man, the woman, and the girl of her own age firing them, with
great reports which made the house quake, while the younger girls
raced from one to the other with powder and bullets. Still, she was not
sure she saw right, it was all so strange. She stood back in a corner, out
of the way, and waited, trembling, and at last the fierce yells outside
died away, and the firing stopped.
"They have fled," said the woman with a thankful sigh.
"Yes," said the man, "we are delivered once more out of the hands of
the enemy."
"We must not unbar the door or the shutters yet," said the woman
anxiously. "I will get the supper by candle-light."

Then Letitia realized what she had not done before, that all the daylight
was shut out of the house; that they had for light only one tallow candle
and a low hearth fire. It was very cold. Letitia began to shiver with cold
as well as fear.
Suddenly the woman turned to her with motherly kindness and
curiosity. "Who is this little damsel whom you rescued, husband?" said
she.
"She must speak for herself," replied her husband, smiling. "I thought
at first she was neighbor Adams's Phoebe, but I see she is not."
"What is your name, little girl?" asked the woman, while the three little
girls looked wonderingly at the new-comer.
"Letitia Hopkins," replied Letitia in a small, scared voice.
"Letitia Hopkins, did you say?" asked the woman doubtfully.
"Yes, ma'am."
They all stared at her, then at one another.
"It is very strange," said the woman finally, with a puzzled,
half-alarmed look. "Letitia Hopkins is my name."
"And it is mine, too," said the eldest girl.
Letitia gave a great jump. There was something very strange about this.
Letitia Hopkins was a family name. Her grandmother, her father's
mother, had been Letitia Hopkins, and she had always heard that the
name could be traced back in the same order for generations, as the
Hopkinses had intermarried. She looked up, trembling, at the man who
had saved her from the Indians.
"Will you please tell me your name, sir?" she said.
"John Hopkins," replied the man, smiling kindly at her.

"Captain John Hopkins," corrected his wife.
Letitia gasped. That settled it. Captain John Hopkins was her
great-great-great-grandfather. Great-aunt Peggy had often told her
about him. He had been a notable man in his day, among the first
settlers, and many a story concerning him had come down to