the bullet hole.

"That's all secure," he said, with a sigh of relief. "Now I must get it
out of range."

He wheeled it to a point in the cabin at which no chance bullet could
reach it, and then resumed the watch with Paul.

"Aren't you glad, Paul," said Henry, "that you were not in the place of
the water barrel?"

"Yes," replied Paul lightly, "because a piece of buckskin and a round
stick wouldn't have healed the damage so quickly."

He spoke lightly because he was still full of confidence. The little cabin
was yet an impregnable castle to him. The crackle of rifle fire died, the
last plume of white smoke rose over the forest, drifted away, and was lost
in the brilliant sunshine. Silence and desolation again held the
wilderness.

"Nothing will happen for some hours now," said Henry cheerfully, "so the
best thing that we can do, Paul, is to have dinner."

"Yes," said Paul, with his quick fancy. "We can dine sumptuously--venison
and pigeon and spring water."

"And lucky we are to have them," said Henry.

They ate of the venison and pigeon, and they drank from the barrel. They
were not creatures of luxury and ease, and they had no complaint to make.
When they finished, Henry said:

"Paul, you ought to take a nap, and then you'll be fresh for to-night,
when things will be happening."

Paul at first was indignant at the idea that he should go to sleep with
the enemy all about them, but Henry soon persuaded him what a wise thing
it would be. Besides, the air was all the time growing closer and warmer
in the little cabin, and he certainly needed sleep. His head grew heavy
and his eyelids drooped. He lay down on the bed, and in a surprisingly
quick time was slumbering soundly.

Henry looked at the sleeping lad, and his look was a compound of great
friendship and admiration. He knew that Paul was not, like himself, born
to the wilderness, and he respected the courage and skill that could
triumph nevertheless. But it was only a fleeting look. His eyes turned
back to the forest, where he watched lazily; lazily, because he knew with
the certainty of divination that they would not attempt anything until
dark, and he knew with equal certainty that they would attempt something
then.

He awakened Paul in two hours, and took his place on the bench. He had not
slept at all the night before, when they were expecting a foe who had not
yet come, and he, too, must be fresh when the conflict was at hand.

"When you see shad