More lead came from the forest, and there was a sharp crackle of rifle fire.  Bullets thudded into the stout walls of the cabin, and Paul’s soul swelled with derision.  His vivid mind pictured himself as safe from the warriors as if they were a thousand miles away.  He was attracted suddenly by a slight, gurgling sound, and then a cry of dismay from Henry.  He wheeled in alarm.  Henry had sprung to the water barrel, the precious contents of which were oozing from a little round hole in the side, about two thirds of the way up.  A bullet had entered one of the loopholes and struck the barrel.  It was an unfortunate chance, one in a thousand, and had not Henry’s acute ear detected at once the sound of flowing water, it might have proved a terrible loss.

But Henry was rapidly stuffing a piece of buckskin, torn from his hunting shirt, into the little round hole, and he waved Paul back to the wall.

“You stay there and watch, Paul,” he said.  “I’ll fix this.”

The buckskin stopped all the flow but a slight drip.  Then, with his strong hunting knife, he cut a piece of wood from the bench, whittled it into shape, and drove it tightly into the bullet hole.

“That’s all secure,” he said, with a sigh of relief.  “Now I must get it out of range.”

He wheeled it to a point in the cabin at which no chance bullet could reach it, and then resumed the watch with Paul.

“Aren’t you glad, Paul,” said Henry, “that you were not in the place of the water barrel?”

“Yes,” replied Paul lightly, “because a piece of buckskin and a round stick wouldn’t have healed the damage so quickly.”

He spoke lightly because he was still full of confidence.  The little cabin was yet an impregnable castle to him.  The crackle of rifle fire died, the last plume of white smoke rose over the forest, drifted away, and was lost in the brilliant sunshine.  Silence and desolation again held the wilderness.

“Nothing will happen for some hours now,” said Henry cheerfully, “so the best thing that we can do, Paul, is to have dinner.”

“Yes,” said Paul, with his quick fancy.  “We can dine sumptuously—­venison and pigeon and spring water.”

“And lucky we are to have them,” said Henry.

They ate of the venison and pigeon, and they drank from the barrel.  They were not creatures of luxury and ease, and they had no complaint to make.  When they finished, Henry said: 

“Paul, you ought to take a nap, and then you’ll be fresh for to-night, when things will be happening.”

Paul at first was indignant at the idea that he should go to sleep with the enemy all about them, but Henry soon persuaded him what a wise thing it would be.  Besides, the air was all the time growing closer and warmer in the little cabin, and he certainly needed sleep.  His head grew heavy and his eyelids drooped.  He lay down on the bed, and in a surprisingly quick time was slumbering soundly.