He knew that he was not yet entirely safe, as the mountaineers were keen of eye and ear, and an outer guard of skirmishers might be lying in the garden itself.
But he was now even keener of eye and hearing than they, and he could detect nothing living near him.

The house also, and all about it, was silent.

Evidently Skelly's men had settled down to a long siege, and Harry rejoiced in the amount of time they gave him.
He rose to his feet, but, stooped to only half his height, he ran swiftly behind the row of grapevines to the far end of the garden, leaped over the fence and continued his rapid flight toward Pendleton, where the single light still burned.

He surmised that his father had received the warning too late to gather more than a few friends, and that the rest of the town was yet in deep ignorance.
The first house he reached, the one in which the light burned, was that of Gardner, the editor, and he beat heavily upon the door.

Gardner himself opened it, and he started back in astonishment at the wild figure covered with mud, a heavy pistol clutched in the right hand.
"In Heaven's name, who are you ?" he cried.
"Don't you know me, Mr.Gardner?
I'm Harry Kenton, come back from Charleston! Bill Skelly and fifty of his men have ridden down from the mountains and are besieging us in our house, intending to rob and kill! The constable is there and so are Judge Kendrick, Senator Culver, and a few others, but we need help and I've come for it!" He spoke in such a rapid, tense manner that every word carried conviction.
"Excuse me for not knowing you, Harry," Gardner said, "but you're calling at a rather unusual time in a rather unusual manner, and you have the most thorough mask of mud I ever saw on anybody.