62 JUSTIN MORGAN 



hay-loft and down a ladder on the other side of the 

 barn rather than let the light shine through the door 

 again, which was very considerate and no doubt True 

 was proportionately grateful. 



Those were wild, unsettled days in Vermont, and tales 

 of Indians pillaging and burning were so fresh in the 

 minds of the pioneers that a certain feeling of insecurity 

 remained, ready to be roused into action any minute. 

 The forests were dense and dark, the farms scattered 

 and lonely and the life primitive. Neighbors depended 

 solely upon each other for assistance in times of trouble 

 or danger. 



Dame Margery Griswold — daughter of a friendly In- 

 dian chief, and wife of a white settler — was one of the 

 fine and noble characters of Randolph. Wise in the 

 ways of medicines and herb-teas, she was constantly 

 called upon to administer to the sick, and never failed to 

 respond, rain or shine, snow or sleet. 



One cold, blustery night there came a need for her to 

 go across the mountain to see a child lying sick of a 

 fever. 



When she called upon her old white mare she was met 

 by a flat refusal; the poor old nag was crippled with 

 rheumatism and could not rise from her stable floor 

 where she lay on her bedding of dried leaves. 



Dame Margery therefore consulted Uncle Peter Ed- 

 son, to whom all turned for advice, he being the oldest 

 man in the town and a Deacon in the church. 



Not long after this Master Morgan was awakened by 

 a smart rapping on his door. 



"Who's there?" he called, sleepily. 



"Wake, Friend Justin," cried Uncle Peter, for 'twas 

 he. "Dame Margery would borrow your horse Figure 

 for the night. She is sent for to doctor a sick child." 



" 'Tis a raw night for the dame, no less my horse," 



