d do was aroused. It was surprise that Henry and he must guard
against. What was to be expected? His sense of curiosity was as keenly
aroused as his sense of danger.

Over an hour dragged slowly by, minute by minute. The sun blazed
brilliantly over the wilderness, and the shut little cabin grew close and
hot. No fresh air came except by the loopholes, and it was not enough for
coolness. Paul's forehead grew damp, and his eyes ached from continual
watching at the loophole. Curiosity now began to give way to anger. If
they were going to do anything, why didn't they do it? He watched the
forest so much and so intently that he began to create images there for
himself. A tall stump was distorted into the figure of an Indian warrior,
a clump of bushes took the shape of an entire group of Shawnees, and many
savage, black eyes looked from the leaves. Paul's reason told him that he
beheld nothing, but his fancy put them there, nevertheless. He saw
presently a little jet of smoke, rising like a white feather; he heard a
report, and then the sound of a bullet burying itself with a soft sigh in
a log of the cabin. He laughed at the futility of it, but Henry said:

"They're just trying us a little--skirmishing, so to speak. Be careful
there, Paul! A chance bullet might catch you in the eye at the loophole."

More lead came from the forest, and there was a sharp crackle of rifle
fire. Bullets thudded into the stout walls of the cabin, and Paul's soul
swelled with derision. His vivid mind pictured himself as safe from the
warriors as if they were a thousand miles away. He was attracted suddenly
by a slight, gurgling sound, and then a cry of dismay from Henry. He
wheeled in alarm. Henry had sprung to the water barrel, the precious
contents of which were oozing from a little round hole in the side, about
two thirds of the way up. A bullet had entered one of the loopholes and
struck the barrel. It was an unfortunate chance, one in a thousand, and
had not Henry's acute ear detected at once the sound of flowing water, it
might have proved a terrible loss.

But Henry was rapidly stuffing a piece of buckskin, torn from his hunting
shirt, into the little round hole, and he waved Paul back to the wall.

"You stay there and watch, Paul," he said. "I'll fix this."

The buckskin stopped all the flow but a slight drip. Then, with his strong
hunting knife, he cut a piece of wood from the bench, whittled it into
shape, and drove it tightly into