he too
was slumbering as soundly as Shif'less Sol. Several hours passed. The
sun moved on in its regular course toward the zenith. Paul and the
shiftless one still slept. Toward the eastern end of the camp someone
ventured a little distance from the others, and received a bullet in his
shoulder. A scout fired at the figure of an Indian that he saw for a
moment leaping from one tree to another, but he could not tell whether
he hit anything. At the other end of the camp there were occasional
shots, but Paul and the shiftless one slept on.

Henry glanced at the sleepers now and then and was pleased to see that
they rested so well. He suggested to Jim Hart that he join them, and Jim
promptly traveled to the same blissful country. Henry himself did not
care to go to sleep. He was still meditating. All this sharpshooting by
the two sides meant nothing. It was more an expression of restlessness
than of any serious purpose, and he paid it no attention. Silent Tom
noticed the corrugation of his brow, and he said:

"Thinkin' hard, Henry?"

"Yes; that is, I'm trying," replied Henry.

Tom, his curiosity satisfied, relapsed into silence. He, too, cared
little for the casual shots, but he was convinced that Henry had a plan
which he would reveal in good time.

The sniping went on all day long. Not a great deal of damage was done
but it was sufficient to show to Colonel Clark that his men must lie
close in camp. If the white army assumed the offensive, the great Indian
force from the shelter of trees and bushes would annihilate it. And
throughout the day he was tormented by fears about Logan. That leader
was coming up the Licking with only three or four hundred men, and
already they might have been destroyed. If so, he must forego the
expedition against Chillicothe and the other Indian towns. It was a
terrible dilemma, and the heart of the stout leader sank. Now and then
he went along the semicircle, but he found that the Indians were always
on watch. If a head were exposed, somebody sent a bullet at it. More
than once he considered the need of a charge, but the deep woods forbade
it. He was a man of great courage and many resources, but as he sat
under the beech tree he could think of nothing to do.

The day--one of many alarms and scattered firing--drew to its close.
The setting sun tinted river and woods with red, and Colonel Clark,
still sitting under his tree and ransacking every corner of his brain,
could not yet see a wa