Shif'less Sol
joined him as he stood by one of the fires.

"I've been workin' out thar with a spade more'n an hour," said the
shiftless one in a tone of deep disgust, "an' I'm tired plumb to death.
I'll lay down before that fire an' sleep till mornin', ef every one uv you
will promise not to say a word an' won't disturb me."

A laugh arose.

"Why, Mr. Hyde," exclaimed one of the Amazons, "they say there was not a
more industrious man in the battle than you."

"Wa'al," said Shif'less Sol, slowly and reflectively, "a man, ef he's
crowded into a corner, will fight ef his life depends on it, but I kin
come purty near to livin' without work."

"You deserve your sleep, Mr. Hyde," said the woman. "Just stretch out
there before the fire."

"I'll stretch out, but I won't sleep," said the shiftless one.

He was as good as his word, and admiring hands brought him food, which he
ate contentedly. Presently he said in a low voice to Paul:

"That's right, Paul, hearten 'em up. They've got a lot to stand yet, an'
it's courage that counts."

Paul knew this truth full well, and he went back and forth in the circle,
ever performing his chosen task, while Henry outside planned and labored
incessantly for the defense against a new attack. Fifty men, sharp of eye
and ear, were selected to watch through half the night, when fifty more,
also sharp of eye and ear, were to take their places. All the others were
to sleep, if they could, in order that they might be strong and fresh for
what the next day would bring forth.

The scattering fire from the forest ceased, and everything there became
silent. No dusky forms were visible to the defenders. The sun dropped
behind the hills, and night, thick and dark, came over the earth. The
peace of the world was strange and solemn, and those in the beleaguered
camp felt oppressed by the darkness and the mystery. They could not see
any enemies or hear any, and after a while they began to argue that since
the savages could no longer be seen or heard, they must have gone away.
But Henry Ware only laughed as they told him so.

"They have not gone," he said to Daniel Poe, "nor will they go to-night
nor to-morrow nor the next night. This train, when it starts in the
morning, must be a moving fort."

Daniel Poe sighed. As always, he believed what Henry Ware said, and the
prospect did not invite.

The darkness and the silence endured. The keenest of the watchers saw and
heard nothing. The moon cam