he looked quite merry; "but don't
look like that, man. It is inviting an attack if these men do mean
evil."

"Right, sir; I am quite laughing now," said Morgan.

"Ah, that's worse," cried my father, "that ghastly grin will ruin us.
There, listen to what I am saying. When these savages attack us, it
will be in some treacherous way, so as to get the advantage of us
without injury to themselves. If they do attack, never mind who goes
down, the survivors must rush into the house and defend it to the last,
for that poor woman's sake. Fight hopefully if I am not with you; for
as soon as firing begins it may bring help from the settlement."

"Then why not fire at once, sir?" cried Morgan, earnestly.

"Because, as I intimated before, it would bring help, but help that came
too late."

The calm forced way in which my father spoke seemed to be the most
terrible part of the whole day's work. The inaction was bad enough, and
to sit there expecting that at any moment the Indians might turn upon us
and kill us with their axes, made it almost impossible to sit there as
my father wished; but sit there we did, and as my eyes wandered from one
to the other of the weird, fierce-looking Indians, who seemed to be
doing nothing but watch us for an excuse to make an attack, it made my
brain swim.

How it was all burnt into my memory, and how I can picture it all now!
The bright garden, the flowers, and the promise of fruit, and the house
beginning to look more lovely every month; and now in front of it Red
Indians squatting about, or standing with their bows strung, arrows in a
case behind them, and axes in hand, ready at the word from their chief
to spring upon us.

All at once the chief uttered a peculiar sound, and the men who were
seated sprang to their feet, and stood watching the tall, fierce-looking
fellow.

He spoke again, and without a word they all moved off quickly toward the
settlement, making straight for Colonel Preston's estate.

I sat there watching them till the last man had disappeared. Then all
the bright sunshiny scene around began to swim, and wave, and grow
distant, and all was blank.

CHAPTER SIX.

"Better, my boy?"

"Yes. What is it? I felt so sick and strange."

I was lying on my back looking up at my father, who was bending over me
bathing my forehead with cold water.

"The sun--a little overdone. There, you are better now."

"Ah, I recollect," I said, "Where are the Indians?"

"Hu