Phebe Reynolds and the Tories
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     At this time Phebe Reynolds was twelve years old, but large and robust for one of her age.  She had become inured to the dangers and terrors of border life, and was resolute and fearless, particularly when her blood was up.  Taking advantage  of their temporary absence, Phebe caught up a knife and hastily cut the rope by which her father was suspended.  She also threw the noose from his neck and managed to get him upon a bed.
     It was not long before the ruffians discovered what had been done, and again they gathered in the room to murder Reynolds.  The girl boldly confronted them with her knife, like a lioness at bay.  They commanded her to go away, threatening her with instant death if she refused.  She declared she did not wish to live if they murdered her father.  They then menaced her with swords and knives; still she stood her ground courageously.  Finding them determined to murder her father, she sprang upon the bed, clasped her hands tightly around him, and attempted thus to shield him from their bloody instruments.  One of the men then took the rope and cruelly beat the girl; but she did not even moan, or wince, although she was marked from head to foot with broad, angry stripes.
     Finding this to be of no avail, the marauders forcibly tore her away, and once more Mr. Reynolds was left hanging to the trammel-pole, while they resumed their work of plundering the house.
      Again did the heroic daughter cut the rope, and was leading her father to another room, when his strength gave out, and he sank upon the floor.  Again did the wretches discover what had been done, and they attacked him with their knives and swords as he lay upon the floor, and once more the brave daughter threw herself upon him, and endeavored to protect him; receiving on her own person many of the blows that were intended for him.  In short, her clothing was saturated with the blood flowing from numerous cuts in her forehead and breast. Finally the robbers threw Mr. Reynolds into an old chest, and, shutting down the lid, they left the place, first destroying his private papers and setting fire to the house.  They also rolled a large stone against the door, which opened outward, and told them they would shoot the first one that dared to raise the latch, with the design that the whole family should be burned up with the house.
     Phebe now made her way to the chest, and, raising the lid, found her father, stiff and rigid, and apparently dead.  With such help as her mother and the lad could give, the body of her father was lifted from the chest, and while this was being done, a low moan escaped his lips.  She immediately pried open his teeth with a pewter spoon, and gave him a few drops of water.  This seemed to revive him, and she gave him more while she proceeded to staunch the blood that was flowing from his wounds.
     While thus occupied her mother was moaning and wandering aimlessly from room to room, and presently she noticed that a bed, a hogshead of flax, and some other inflammable material were on fire.  The mother, appalled at this discovery, cried out, “Oh, Phebe, the house is on fire in three places!”  “Why don't you put it out?” demanded the daughter.  “Oh, I can't,” was the dismayed reply, “if it burns down over our heads!” “Then come and take care of father and let me do it.”  The brave girl promptly dashed water on the burning beds, threw a drenched rug over the flax, and went back to her father.



                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           
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