e out and the earth lightened, then darkened
again as clouds rolled across the heavens; the camp fires sank, and,
despite their alarms, many slept. The wounded, all of whom had received
the rude but effective surgery of the border, were quiet, and the whole
camp bore the aspect of peace. Paul slipped from the circle, and joined
Henry outside the earthwork.

"Do you see anything, Henry?" he said.

"No, but I've heard," replied Henry, who had just come out of the
darkness. "The Shawnees are before us, the Miamis behind us, and the
warriors of the smaller tribes on either side. The night may pass without
anything happening, or it may not. But we have good watchers."

Paul stayed with him a little while, but, at Henry's urgent request, he
went back inside the circle, wrapped himself in a blanket and lay down,
his face upturned to the cloudy skies which he did not see. He did not
think he could sleep. His brain throbbed with excitement, and his vivid
imagination was wide awake. Despite the danger, he rejoiced to be there;
rejoiced that he and his comrades should help in the saving of all these
people. The spiritual exaltation that he felt at times swept over him.
Nevertheless, all the pictures faded, his excited nerves sank to rest,
and, with his face still upturned to the cloudy skies, he slept.

Far after midnight a sudden ring of fire burst from the dark forest, and
women and children leaped up at the crash of many rifles. Shouting their
war whoop, the tribesmen rushed upon the camp; but the fifty sentinels,
sheltered by the earthwork, met them with a fire more deadly than their
own, and in a moment the fifty became more than two hundred.

Red Eagle and Yellow Panther had hoped for a surprise, but when the
unerring volleys met them, they sank back again into the forest, carrying
their dead with them.

"You were right," said Daniel Poe to Henry Ware; "they will not leave us."

"Not while they think there is a chance to overpower us. But we've shown
'em they can't count on a surprise."

The camp, except the watchers, went back to sleep, and the night passed
away without a second alarm. Dawn came, gray and cloudy, and the people
of the train awoke to their needs, which they faced bravely. Breakfast was
cooked and eaten, and then the wagons, in a file of four, took up their
march, a cloud of keen-eyed and brave skirmishers on every side. The train
had truly become what Henry said it must be, a moving fort; and, though