Paul sat down again on the floor, and leaned against the wall.  The pleasant, languorous feeling came once more, but he was roused suddenly by scattered rifle shots, and sprang up.  Henry laughed.

“They’re not attacking,” he said.  “It was only a volley, fired from the wood, to show how angry they are.  I don’t think we need expect anything more to-night.  You might really go to sleep, Paul, if you feel like it.”

“No, I will not!” exclaimed Paul with energy.  “I won’t do all the sleeping, and let you do all the watching.  Besides, I couldn’t sleep, anyhow; my nerves wouldn’t let me.  I looked sleepy just because I was tired, it’s your time.”

“All right,” said Henry.  “Now, you watch good, Paul.”

Then Henry lay down upon the floor and closed his eyes.  He might not have done so, but he felt sure that nothing more would be attempted that night; and if, by any chance, they should attack again, Paul would be sure to waken him in time.  The rain grew harder on the roof, and its steady patter was like the rocking of a cradle to a child.  His nerves were of steel, and the mechanism of his body and brain were not upset at all.  The half-dropped lids dropped down entirely, and he slept, breathing peacefully.

Paul watched, his brief lethargy gone; but his accustomed eyes could see little now through the loopholes, only the dim forest and the rain, falling slowly but steadily.  He and Henry seemed to be alone in the world.  Outside all the wilderness was in gloom, but in the little cabin it was dry and warm.  The few drops that came through the boards now and then, and fell with a little pat on the floor, were nothing.  He and Henry were dry and safe, and it seemed to him that so far, at least, they had all the better of the battle.  The glow of triumph came again.

Paul watched until dawn, and saw the sun spring up over the eastern forests.  Then he awakened Henry, and the great youth, stretching himself, uttered a long sigh.

“That was fine, Paul!” he said, “fine!  Now, what are our friends outside doing?”

“Nothing that I can see.  There are only stumps in the clearing, and trees and hushes in the forest.  I see no warrior.”

Henry laughed, and his laugh had a most cheerful tone.

“They are not far away,” he said.  “It is likely they’ll try to starve us out, or rather conquer us with thirst.  They don’t know anything about our barrel of water.”

“Blessed barrel!” ejaculated Paul.

It seemed that Henry was right in his prediction.  As long hours passed, the sun rose higher and higher, and it grew very close in the little cabin.  Paul thought the warriors must have gone away, disgusted with their losses, but Henry cautioned him against savage patience.  Toward noon they ate a little more of their pigeon and dried venison, and Paul looked with some dismay at the small portions that were left.

“Henry,” he exclaimed, “there is enough for supper, and no more.”