“Let’s go in the house and git something to eat,” said Sneak.

“Hang me if I ain’t willing to be with you there,” said Joe.

The whole party entered the house to partake of a collation prepared by the dainty hands of Mary.  Mary had frequently insisted upon serving them with refreshments during the night, but hitherto all her persuasions had been unavailing, for the dangers that beset them on every hand had banished all other thoughts than those of determined defensive operations.

[Illustration:  He clasped her hand, and pressed it to his lips.—­P. 120]

Boone was so certain that nothing farther was to be apprehended from the enemy, that he dispensed with the sentinels at the loopholes.  He relied upon Ringwood and Jowler to guard them through the remainder of the night; and when a hearty meal was eaten he directed his gallant little band to enjoy their wonted repose.

Ere long Mary slumbered quietly beside her father, while Boone and Glenn occupied the remaining couch.  Sneak was seated on a low stool, near the blazing fire, and Joe sat in Glenn’s large arm chair, on the opposite side of the hearth.  The fawn and the kitten were coiled close together in the centre of the room.

Save the grinding jaws of Sneak and Joe, a death-like silence reigned.  Occasionally, when Sneak lifted his eyes from the pewter platter that lay upon his knees, and glanced at the bandages on his companion’s head, his jaws would cease to move for a few moments, during which he gazed in astonishment at the ravenous propensity of the invalid.  But not being inclined to converse or remonstrate, he endeavoured to get through with his supper with as much expedition as possible, that he might enjoy all the comforts of refreshing sleep.  Yet he was often on the eve of picking a quarrel with Joe, when he suffered a sudden twinge from his broken tooth, while striving to tear the firmer portion of the venison from the bone.  But when he reflected upon his peculiar participation in the occurrence which had caused him so justly to suffer, he repressed his rising anger and proceeded with his labour of eating.

Joe, on the other hand, discussed his savoury dish with unalloyed satisfaction; yet he, too, paused occasionally, and fixing his eyes upon the glaring fire, seemed plunged in the deepest thought.  But he did not glance at his companion.  At these brief intervals he was apparently reflecting upon the incidents of the night.  One thing in particular puzzled him; he could not, for the life of him, conceive how his musket rebounded with such violence, when he was positively certain that he had put but one charge in it, and that only a moderate one.  He was sometimes inclined to think the blow he received on the head was dealt by Sneak; but when he reflected it would be unnatural for one man to strike another with his teeth, and that Sneak had likewise sustained a serious injury at the same time, conjectures were entirely at fault.