ows in the clearing, wake me, without fail, Paul," he
said.

Then he closed his eyes, and like Paul slept almost at once. Neither the
weary waiting nor the danger could upset his nerves so much that sleep
would not come, and his slumber was dreamless.

The afternoon waned. Paul, peeping from the loophole, saw the sun, red
like fire, seeking its bed in the west, but the shadows were not yet over
the clearing. Refreshed by his sleep, and his nerves steadied, he no
longer saw imaginary figures in the wilderness. It was just a wall of red
and yellow and brown, and it was hard to believe that men seeking his
life lay there. By and by the east began to turn gray, and over the
clearing fell the long shadows of coming twilight. Then Paul awakened
Henry, and the two watched together.

The shadows lengthened and deepened, a light wind arose and moaned among
the oaks and beeches, a heavy, dark veil was drawn across the sky, and the
forest melted into a black blur. Now Henry looked with all his eyes and
listened with all his ears, because he knew that what the warriors wanted,
the covering veil of the night, had come.

It was a very thick and black night, too, and that was against him and
Paul, as the objects in the clearing were hidden almost as well now as
anything in the forest. Hence he trusted more to ear than to eye. But he
could yet hear nothing, save the wind stirring the leaves and the grass.
Inside the little cabin it grew dark, too, but their trained eyes,
becoming used to the gloom, were able to see each other well enough for
all the needs of the defense.

Time passed slowly on, and to Paul every moment was tense and vivid. The
darkness was far more suggestive of danger than the day had been. He took
his eyes now and then from the loophole, for a moment, to glance at
Henry's face, and about the third or fourth time he saw a sudden light
leap into the eyes of his comrade. The next instant Henry thrust his
rifle into the loophole and, taking quick aim, fired.

A long, quavering cry arose, and after that came a silence that lay very
still and deadly upon Paul's soul. Henry had seen in the shadow a deeper
shadow quiver, and he had fired instantly but with deadly aim. Paul,
looking through the loophole on his own side of the cabin, could see
nothing for a little space, but presently arose a patter of feet, and many
forms darted through the dusk toward the cabin. He quickly fired one
rifle, and then the other, but wheth