Lancaster Town lies thirty-five miles' Journey to the West. "What brought me here," Mason wrote in the Field-Record, "was my curiosity to see the place where was perpetrated last Winter the Horrid and inhu?man murder of 26 Indians, Men, Women and Children, leaving none alive to tell."
" 'Me,' notes Uncle Ives, " 'my,'— sounds like Mason went by him?self."
The Revd nods. "Dixon told me, that Mason had meant to go alone,— but that at the last moment, mindful of the dangers attending Solitude in a Town notorious for Atrocity, he offer'd to add Muscular Emphasis, tho' Mason seem'd unsure of whether he wanted him there or not."
They— presume "they,"— reach Lancaster 10 January 1765, putting up at The Cross Keys. The Public Rooms are crowded with Lawyers, Town Officials, Justices, Merchants, and Mill-owners,— the middling to better sort, not a murderously drooling backwoodsman in sight,— unless they include their Guide, pick'd up about a minute and a half inside the Town Limits, who may once or twice have undergone a loss of salivary control,— Mason soon enough on about how quaint, how Amer?ican, Dixon rather suspecting him of being in the pay of the Paxton Boys, to keep an eye upon two Hirelings of their Landlord and Enemy, Mr. Penn.
"Here for a look at the Massacre Site, are you, Gentlemen? I can always tell. Some bring Sketching-Books, some Easels, others their Specimen- Bags, but all converge thro' the same queer Magnetism. I quite under?stand, tho' others about may not,— 'twould do to mind one's belongings,— yet I must not bite the Backs that ignore me— The first stop upon any Tour is acknowledg'd to be The Dutch Rifle, whither the Boys, hush'd be the Name ever spoken, having left their Horses at Mr. Slough's, repair'd just before the Doing of the Deed. Step this way, pray yese."
When they see what is upon the Tavern Sign, Mason and Dixon exchange a Look,— the Weapon depicted, Black upon White, is notable for the Device upon its Stock, a Silver Star of five Points, revers'd so that two point up and one down,— a sure sign of evil at work, universally rec-
ogniz'd as the Horns of the D——l. No-one would adorn a Firearm with
it, who was not wittingly in the service of that Prince. This is not the first Time the Surveyors have seen it,— at the Cape, usually right-side-up, it is known as the Sterloop,— a sort of good-luck charm, out in the Bush. But ev'ry now and then, mostly on days of treacherous Wind or Ill-Spirits, one or both had spied upon a Rifle an inverted Star, much like what they observe now, against the Sky, plumb in the windless Forenoon.
"I told ye the last time, that last time was the last time, Jabez," comes a Voice from a high Angle,— Mason and Dixon, peering upward, observe the Landlord, whose Pate appears to brush the beams above him, in a vex'd Temper.
"Ever a merry Quip," cries Jabez, nimbly stepping behind the Sur?veyors and propelling them in ahead.
They are examin'd skeptickally. "Not from the Press, are you?"
" 'Pon my Word," cry both Surveyors at once.
"Drummers of some kind's my guess," puts in a Countryman, his Rifle at his Side, "am I right, Gents?"
"What'll we say?" mutters Mason urgently to Dixon.
"Oh, do allow me," says Dixon to Mason. Adverting to the Room, "Why aye, Right as a Right Angle, we're out here to ruffle up some busi?ness with any who may be in need of Surveying, London-Style,— Astro-nomickally precise, optickally up-to-the-Minute, surprisingly cheap. The Behavior of the Stars is the most perfect Motion there is, and we know how to read it all, just as you'd read a Clock-Face. We have Lenses that never lie, and Micrometers fine enough to subtend the Width of a Hair upon a Martian's Eye-ball. This looks like a bustling Town, plenty
 of activity in the Land-Trades, where think yese'd be a good place to start?" with an amiability that Mason recognizes as peculiarly Quaker,— Friendly Business.
"Then why are yese askin' Jabez 'bout th' Massacree?" inquires a toothless old Coot with an empty Can, which Dixon makes sure is promptly fill'd.
"Aye! How do we know ye're not just two more Philadelphia Fops, out skipping thro' the Brush-wood?"
"He approach'd us," Mason protests.
"We're men of Science," Dixon explains, " - this being a neoclas-sickal Instance of the Catastrophick Resolution of Inter-Populational Cross-Purposes, of course we're curious to see where it all happen'd.—
"You can't just come minuetting in from London and expect to under?stand what's going on here," advises Mr, Slough.
"This is about Family, sure as the History of England. Inside any one Tribe of Indians, they're all related, see? Kill you one Delaware, you affront the Family at large. Out here, if it's Blood of mine, of course I must go out and seek redress,— tho' I'll have far less company."
"Each alone lacking the Numbers, our sole Recourse is to band together."
"These were said to be harmless, helpless people," Dixon points out in some miraculous way that does not draw challenge or insult in return. Apprehensive among these Folk, Mason, who would have perhaps us'd one Adjective fewer, regards his Geordie Partner with a strange Gaze, bordering upon Respect.
"They were blood relations of men who slew blood relations of ours," Jabez explains.
"Then if You know who did it, for the Lord's sake why did You not go after them?"
"This hurt them more," smiles a certain Oily Leon, fingering his Frizzen and Flint.
"Aye, they go on living, but without dear old Grandam,— puts a big Hole in the Blanket, don't it?"
"You must hate them exceedingly," Mason pretending to a philosoph-ickal interest actually far more faint than his interest in getting out of here alive.
"No," looking about as if puzzl'd, "not any more. That Debt is paid. I'll live in peace with them,— happy to."
"Mayn't they now feel oblig'd to come after you?" asks Jere Disingen?uous. He notices Mason just visibly creeping toward the Door.
"Not this side of the River, nor this side of York and Baltimore Road. 'Tis all ours now. They answer to us here."
"What's the complaint?" demands Oily Leon. "We're out here as a Picket for Philadelphia,— we've clear'd them a fine safe patch, from Delaware to Susquehanna. Now may they prance about foolish as they may."
"Aye, Penns, handing us and our children about like Chattel,—
"Damme,— like Field Slaves!"
- dared they ever leave England and come here, they should find harsher welcome than any King."
"Here's a Riddle,— if a cat may look at a King, may a Pennsylvanian take aim at a King's enforcer?"
"Sir!" The murmuring is about equally divided, as to whether this is going too far, or not far enough.
"Their Cities allow them Folly," a German of Mystickal Toilette advises the Astronomers, "that daily Living upon the Frontier will not forgive. They feed one another's Pretenses, live upon borrow'd Money as borrow'd Time, their lives as their deaths put, with all appearance of Willingness, under the control of others mortal as they, rather than sub?ject, as must Country People's lives and deaths be, to the One Eternal Ruler. That is why we speak plainly, whilst Cits learn to be roundabout as Snakes. Our Time is much more precious to us."
"What. Our Time not precious!" guffaws a traveling sales Represen?tative. "Why, you're welcome, Cousin, to try and get thro' twenty-four Hours of Philadelphia Time, which if it don't kill you, will cure you, at least, of your Illusions about us."
"Excuse me," says Dixon, "I meant to ask...? Whah's thah' smoahkin' Object in thy Mouth, thah' tha keep puffi............