er," said Aunt Georgie. "I certainly thought it was he."

"Yes; and to clear himself of the suspicion," said Uncle Jack, cheerily,
"he hid and frightened them away. Come, people, don't look so
anxious.--Why, Hetty--Ida--surely you are not going to be scared at a
little adventure like this."

"Of course they are not," said the captain, quickly. "There is nothing
to be alarmed about."

"Father says there's nothing to be alarmed about," whispered Rifle that
night, when the boys retired to the part of the house they called the
barracks.

"Yes, I heard him," said Norman, softly. "Talk low, Tim's asleep."

"No, I'm not," said that individual. "I'm awake as you are. You're
going to talk about uncles' whispering together, and then going and
loading the guns and pistols."

Norman was silent for a few moments.

"Yes," he said at last. "It means that they are very uneasy about the
black fellows."

"And a fight," said Rifle.

"I hope not, boys. One doesn't want to kill."

"But one doesn't want the myall blacks to kill us," said Rifle. "Well,
they will not come to-night, will they?"

"If they do," replied Norman, "father will soon wake us up, if it's only
to load the guns for them. They're sure to sit up and watch in turns
with Sourkrout. Shall we dress again, and go and offer to help?"

"No," said Tim. "Uncle would not like us to interfere without being
asked, but I shall lie and listen all night. I couldn't go to sleep
fancying that black fellows were crawling up to attack us."

"No," said Rifle, softly; "one feels all of a fidget, and ready to fancy
all sorts of things."

"Nonsense!" said Norman. "It's because it's so hot to-night. That's
all."

"Man don't mean it," said Tim, quietly. "He's as fidgety as we are."

"Yes, of course I am, but it's only the heat."

"Call it what you like," said Rifle; "but you don't feel as if you could
sleep to-night."

"Well, I don't feel sleepy yet," said Norman, carelessly.

But a long day on horseback and the quiet of their quarters, joined to
the knowledge that their elders would be on guard, sufficed to nullify
all their declarations, and half an hour had not elapsed before the
regular, steady breathing of three healthy lads told that they were
passing the night in the most satisfactory way.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

"THAT ISN'T THUNDER."

"Hi! Rouse up! Black fellows!" shouted Rifle, and his brother and
cousin started up in bed, ready for the momen