"Our colony had by this time become quite prosperous. A good many of the
settlers had built houses for themselves more like those they had left
behind on the Delaware.
"The spring that I was fourteen, father built this house. The mill had
already been grinding away for two years. We were very happy when we
moved out of our little log cabin into this pleasant house.
"We had but little furniture, but we had plenty of room. Up to this
time, there had not been much trouble with the Indians, and though we
had often dreaded it, and lived in fear many days at a time, only four
of our men had been killed by them.
"We had trusted many of the friendly Indians, and Red Feather had
frequently spent days at our settlement. He seemed to like the mill.
"I became quite attached to the old man; but Mary was always afraid of
him, and Lizzie kept her sharp eyes on him whenever he came into the
house. She hated him, and he knew it.
"One beautiful clear morning in August of that year, father went down to
the mill as usual. Lizzie was busy with her work, and little Mary was
playing with some tame doves, when looking up, I saw Lizzie start
suddenly.
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