Paul was at the door when Henry returned, and he did not notice anything unusual in his comrade’s face, but Henry advised that they stay inside now.  Then he looked very carefully to the bars of the door and the window, and Paul understood.  The danger flashed instantly on his mind, but his strong will prepared him to meet it.

“You think we are likely to be besieged?” he said.

“Yes,” replied Henry.

Paul did not ask why Henry knew.  It was sufficient that he did know, and he examined his arms carefully.  Then began that long period of waiting so terrible to a lad of his type.  It seemed that the hours would never pass.  The coals on the hearth were dead now, and there was no light at all in the cabin.  But his eyes grew used to the dusk, and he saw his comrade sitting on one of the benches, one rifle across his lap and the other near, always listening.

Paul listened, too.  The night before the rain had fallen on the board roof with a soothing sound, but now he could hear nothing, not even the wind among the trees.  He began to long for something that would break this ominous, deadly silence, be it ever so slight—­the sound of a falling nut from a tree, or of a wild animal stirring in the undergrowth—­but nothing came.  The same stillness, heavy with omens and presages, reigned in all the forest.

CHAPTER IV

THE SIEGE

The whole night passed without event and the day came.  Paul saw the light grow deeper and deeper, but nothing stirred in the forest.  It stretched before him, a living curve of glowing red and yellow and brown, but it was now like a sea of dangerous depths, and the little cabin was their sole island of safety.

“It’s a good thing we brought the extra rifles with us,” said Henry.  “They look like good weapons, and they may save us in case of a rush.  Ah, there they come!”

Paul had noticed nothing, but Henry had seen the bushes at the edge of the forest quiver, and then move contrary to the wind.  His eye did not rest upon any brown body, but he knew as well as if they had cried out that the warriors were there.  How many?  That was the question that concerned him most.  If a great war party, they might hang on a long time; but if only a small one, he and Paul might beat them off as often as they came.  They had four rifles, plenty of ammunition, enough food to last several days, and he thanked God for the providential presence of the rain barrel.

These were but brief passing thoughts, and he never ceased to watch the forest.  Still no sign of a face, but now and then the unnatural quiver of the bushes, and above them the sun spinning a fine golden, veil over all the great wilderness.

“Our guests have come, Paul,” said he, “but from safe cover they are inspecting our front yard.”

“And they don’t know yet whether or not they would like to disport themselves on our lawn.”