king like that, father, to cheer me up," I said, sadly.
"Do you think I don't know that it is all over?"

"I do not think--I am sure you don't know, my boy," he said, smiling.
"How can you? A battle is never lost till it is won. Did you ever see
two cocks fight?"

"Yes; once or twice, father," I said, wonderingly.

"So have I," he replied, "not in the case of so-called sport, but
naturally, as such birds will fight; and I have seen one beaten down,
apparently quite conquered, and the victor as he believed himself has
leaped upon his fallen adversary and begun to crow."

"Yes, I know," I cried, eagerly; "and then the beaten bird has struggled
and spurred the other so fiercely that he has run away in turn."

"Yes; you have finished my anecdote for me. It is too soon yet for the
Indians to begin to crow. They are still outside our place, and the
powder is plentiful yet."

I shivered a little at the mention of the powder, and tried to tell him
what I had heard, but somehow the words would not come, and soon after
as he dropped asleep I went down into the open space about the
block-house.

To reach it I had to pass the powder, which still lay covered as before,
and it seemed to me that some fresh place might be found for it, since
if the Indians began to send their fiery arrows into the camp again, one
might fall there, and the destruction talked of befall us at once.

But a little thought told me that if arrows came now, they would be
aimed at men and not at buildings. There was nothing more within for
the fire to burn, so I went in and walked round the pile of smouldering
ashes, and tried to recall the scene of the previous night, and the
position of the magazine. But it was rather hard to do now, there being
nothing left by which I could judge, and I was going on, when I caught
sight of something which made me alter my course, and walk softly up
behind where Pomp was busy with a shovel at the edge of a great heap of
smouldering ashes.

"What are you doing?" I said.

"Eh? Mass' George 'top bit and see."

"No, I can't stop," I cried. "What are you doing with that shovel?"

"Dat to 'crape de fire up. You no see? Pomp bake cake for de capen."

"What?"

"Oh yes. Plenty cake in de hot ash. Hot bread for um. 'Top see if um
done."

He looked up at me and laughed as merrily as if there was no danger
near.

"Mass' George see more Injum?"

"No," I said. "They are in the forest somewhere."

"Pom