ought was
plumb foolish. Do you think that me, Sol Hyde, is goin' to take a tin pan
an' go beatin' on it down thar among the bushes, an' callin' on the
biggest boaster o' all the savages to come out an' fight me? No, sir; I
wouldn't go fifty yards before I'd tumble over, with a bullet through me."

Most of the people laughed, and the shiftless one continued with random,
cheery talk, helping Paul to hearten them. The two succeeded to a great
degree. There was mourning for the dead, but it was usually silent. The
borderers were too much accustomed to hardship and death to grieve long
over the past. They turned themselves to present needs.

The night was rainy, and unusually cold for that time of the year, and
Henry Ware rejoiced because of it. The savages in the thickets, despite
their hardiness, would suffer more than the emigrants in the shelter of
the wagons. Henry himself, although he caught little naps here and there,
seemed to the others able to do without sleep. He kept up an incessant
watch, and his vigilance defeated two attempts of the warriors to creep up
in the darkness and pour a fire into the train.

A second day came, and then a third, and the savages resumed their
continuous skirmishing. A single warrior would creep up, fire a shot, and
then spring away. They did little damage, but they showed that no one was
safe for a moment outside the circle of wagons. If help did not come, they
would never leave their rock.

Time wore on, and the beleaguered camp became again a prey to gloom. Women
and children fell sick, and the hearts of the men were heavy. The ring of
savages drew closer, and more than once bullets fell inside the circle of
the wagons. It was hard work now for Paul and Shif'less Sol to keep up the
spirits of the women and children, and once, at a council, some one talked
of surrender. They might at least get good treatment.

"Never think of such a thing!" said Henry Ware. "All the men would be
killed, tortured to death, and all the women and children would be taken
away into slavery. Hold on! Jim Hart will surely get through."

But the warriors steadily grew bolder. They seemed to be animated by the
certainty of triumph. Often through the day and night they uttered
taunting shouts, and now and then, in the day time, they would appear at
the edge of the woods and make derisive gestures. Daniel Poe grew gloomy,
and sadly shook his head.

"Help must come soon," he said, "or our people will not h