the rest of this fight."

"But the Indians can cross the brook, and then lay down this bridge
again," suggested Mr. Mellowtone.

"Set them sticks afire, boy," added Kit, pointing to the heap of logs
we had removed from the bridge. "It will be easier to cut some more
than to let the redskins use them."

Mr. Mellowtone gave me a card of matches, and I piled up some dry
sticks against the heap, which I set on fire. While I was thus
employed, my companions made a litter, on which they placed the body of
Matt. As we could neither see nor hear the savages, we concluded they
had gone farther up the brook to find a crossing. We waited till the
fire had nearly consumed the bridge material, and then started for the
Castle. Kit and Mr. Mellowtone bore the litter, while I carried two
rifles. It was a mournful procession to me, and my companions were sad
and silent. I knew that Kit grieved at the loss of his old friend; but
he was only grave and solemn, as he always was.

When we reached the Castle, the body of the old man was placed upon his
bed, and we left the room to prepare for the defence of the place. It
was not in the nature of the Indians to go away without further
wreaking their vengeance. Besides, the Castle was rich in plunder to
men pressed with want, and even with hunger. We must expect a visit
from them by night, if not before.

The Castle was a log cabin, containing only a single room, with the
chimney on the outside, and next to the river. On the other side was
built the barn, which was twice as large as the house. They were joined
together, so as to save the labor of building one wall, as well as for
convenience in winter. The building stood on a kind of ridge, which was
the "divide" between Bear Creek and Kit's Brook. From one stream to the
other the land was cleared, and included in the farm. The forest line
was within a hundred and fifty rods of the river.

We had, therefore, an open space from stream to stream, three miles
long by about a hundred and fifty rods wide, from which Matt Rockwood
had cut off the wood, hauling it to the landing-place at the mouth of
Fish Creek for the steamers. Only a portion of this territory had been
cultivated, though all of it was used for crops or for pasture. Kit had
come to the conclusion that we could defend ourselves better in the
open space than in the woods, so long as we were able to prevent the
Indians from dashing suddenly upon us on horseback.

"Our army's sma