“Wa’al,” said Shif’less Sol, slowly and reflectively, “a man, ef he’s crowded into a corner, will fight ef his life depends on it, but I kin come purty near to livin’ without work.”

“You deserve your sleep, Mr. Hyde,” said the woman.  “Just stretch out there before the fire.”

“I’ll stretch out, but I won’t sleep,” said the shiftless one.

He was as good as his word, and admiring hands brought him food, which he ate contentedly.  Presently he said in a low voice to Paul: 

“That’s right, Paul, hearten ’em up.  They’ve got a lot to stand yet, an’ it’s courage that counts.”

Paul knew this truth full well, and he went back and forth in the circle, ever performing his chosen task, while Henry outside planned and labored incessantly for the defense against a new attack.  Fifty men, sharp of eye and ear, were selected to watch through half the night, when fifty more, also sharp of eye and ear, were to take their places.  All the others were to sleep, if they could, in order that they might be strong and fresh for what the next day would bring forth.

The scattering fire from the forest ceased, and everything there became silent.  No dusky forms were visible to the defenders.  The sun dropped behind the hills, and night, thick and dark, came over the earth.  The peace of the world was strange and solemn, and those in the beleaguered camp felt oppressed by the darkness and the mystery.  They could not see any enemies or hear any, and after a while they began to argue that since the savages could no longer be seen or heard, they must have gone away.  But Henry Ware only laughed as they told him so.

“They have not gone,” he said to Daniel Poe, “nor will they go to-night nor to-morrow nor the next night.  This train, when it starts in the morning, must be a moving fort.”

Daniel Poe sighed.  As always, he believed what Henry Ware said, and the prospect did not invite.

The darkness and the silence endured.  The keenest of the watchers saw and heard nothing.  The moon came 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.”