e bee-yu-ti-ful than the last. Ain't that so, Sol? You
know it's the truth."

"You could become more bee-yu-ti-ful a heap o' times an' then be nothin'
to brag about," retorted the shiftless one.

"Now let's all go to sleep," said Henry. "It must be past midnight, and
you may be sure that there will be plenty of work for us to do
to-morrow."

"'Nough said," said Tom Ross. He threw himself upon one of the couches
of skins and in three minutes was fast asleep. Sol, Jim, and Paul
quickly followed him, and the long, peaceful breathing of the four was
the only sound in the room.

Henry looked down at his comrades, and his heart was full of gladness.
It seemed wonderful that they had all come with their lives through so
many dangers, and silently he returned thanks to the white man's God and
the red man's Manitou, who were the same to him.

There was a single window to the cabin, without glass, but closed, when
necessary, with a wooden shutter. The shutter was propped back a foot or
more now in order to admit air, and Henry looked out. The lightning had
ceased to flash, save for a feeble quiver now and then on the far
horizon, and it had grown somewhat lighter. But the rain still fell,
though gently, with a steady, soft, insistent drip, drip that was
musical and conducive to sleep.

Henry saw the dusky outline of buildings and several figures passing
back and forth, guns on shoulders. These were riflemen, and he knew that
more were at the wooden walls keeping vigilant guard. Once again he was
filled with wonder that he and his comrades should have come so far and
through so much, and yet be safe and whole.

There was no sound save an occasional light footstep or the clank of a
rifle barrel against metal to break the musical beat of the rain. All
the firing had ceased, and the wind moaned no longer. Henry let the
fresh air play for a while on his face, and then he, too, turned back to
a couch of skins. Sleep, heavy, but not dreamless, came soon.

Henry's dream was not a bad one. On the contrary, it was full of cheer
and good omen. He lay in the forest, the forest, dry, warm, green, and
beautiful, and an unknown voice over his head sang a splendid song in
his ears that, note by note, penetrated every fiber of his being and
filled him with the most glorious visions. It told him to go on, that
all things could be conquered by those who do not fear to try. It was
the same song among the leaves that he had heard in his waki