When the store of water was secure he looked at their provisions.  They had enough venison in their knapsacks to last a day or two, but he believed that Paul would need better and tenderer food.  The question, however, must wait a while.

The day was now almost gone.  Great shadows hovered over the eastern forest, and in the west the sun glowed in its deepest red as it prepared to go.  Henry put his hand upon Paul’s forehead again.  The perspiration was still coming, but the fever was now wholly gone.  Then he took his rifle and went to the door.  He stood there a moment, a black figure in the red light of the setting sun.  Then he slid noiselessly into the forest.  The twilight had deepened, the red sun had set, and only a red cloud in the sky marked its going.  But Henry Ware’s eyes pierced the shadows, and none in the forest could have keener ears than his.  He made a wide circle around the cabin, and found only silence and peace.  Here and there were tracks and traces of wild animals, but they would not disturb; it was for something else that he looked, and he rejoiced that he could not find it.  When he returned to the cabin the last fringe of the red cloud was gone from the sky, and black darkness was sweeping down over the earth.  He secured the door, looked again to the fastenings of the window, and then sat down before the fire, his rifle between his knees.

Paul’s slumber and exhaustion alike were so deep that he would not be likely to waken before morning, so Henry judged, and presently he took out a little of the dried venison and ate it.  He would boil some of it in the pot in the morning for Paul’s breakfast, but for himself it was good enough as it now was.  His strong white teeth closed down upon it, and a deep feeling of satisfaction came over him.  He, too, was resting from great labors, and from a task well done.  He realized now, for the first time, how great a strain had been put upon him, both mind and body.

The night was sharp and chill, but it was very warm and comfortable in the little cabin.  Paul slept on, his breathing as regular as the ticking of a clock, healthy color coming back into his pale face as he slept.  Henry’s own eyes began to waver.  A deep sense of peace and rest soothed him, heart and brain.  He had meant to watch the night through, but even he had reached the limit of endurance.  The faint moaning of the wind outside, like the soft, sweet note of a violin, came to his ears, and lulled him to slumber.  The fire floated far away, and, still sitting in his chair with his rifle between his knees, he slept.

Outside the darkness thickened and deepened.  The forest was a solid black, circling wall, and the cabin itself stood in deepest shadow.  Inside a fresh piece of wood caught, and the blaze burned brighter and higher.  It threw a glow across the faces of the two boys, who slept, the one lying upon the bed and the other sitting in the chair, with the rifle between his knees.  It was a scene possible only in the great wilderness of Kain-tuck-ee.