ve known any serious
difficulty with the savages."

Mr. Mellowtone smoked his pipe out, and then lay down by my side. In a
few moments he dropped asleep. I was very tired after the severe labor
of the day, and I had been up most of the preceding night. Nature at
last asserted her claim, and I slept.

When I awoke, the sun was shining in through the loopholes of the block
house. Kit Cruncher lay by my side, still fast asleep. I realized that
the Indians had not made an assault during the night. I rose carefully,
stepped over the long gaunt form of the stalwart hunter, and left the
fortress. Mr. Mellowtone was walking up and down, with his pipe in his
mouth, between the expiring embers of the fires, which had been
permitted to go out at daylight.

"Why didn't you call me, and let me take my turn on the watch, Mr.
Mellowtone?" I asked, after the sentinel had given me a pleasant
greeting.

"Kit told me not to call you, and I did not intend to do so, Phil
Farringford. You are a boy, and you need sleep."

"I'm willing to do my share of the watching."

"You shall take your turn to-night. We can do nothing to-day but eat
and sleep. If you will give us some breakfast, we shall be ready for
it."

"I will--right off. Have you seen anything of the Indians?"

"No; not one of them has ventured into the clearing. Being ready for
them is more than half the battle. I doubt whether they trouble us
again at present. We have taught them a lesson they will not soon
forget."

"Yes; and they have taught us one which we shall not soon forget," I
added, glancing at the mound over the grave of Matt Rockwood.

I went to the Castle, made a fire, and while the kettle was boiling I
attended to the horses. I cooked some fish and potatoes, and we
breakfasted between the block house and the forest. All day long we
watched and waited for the coming of the savages; but we heard nothing
of them. At night I took the first watch, and walked around the Castle,
keeping up the fires, till I was so sleepy I could hardly keep my eyes
open; and then, as a matter of prudence rather than comfort, I called
Kit.

CHAPTER VIII.

IN WHICH PHIL SEES THE FIRST YOUNG LADY HE EVER SAW.

We were rather tired of this life of inactivity after a couple of days.
We watched for Indians, but none came; and, on the third day after the
death of Matt Rockwood, Kit declared his intention to take a tramp into
the woods in the direction of his own cabin. If he