“This gang,” he said, “come out to hunt buffalo, an’, accordin’ to what Henry says, a war party—­he don’t know how big—­is comin’ this way huntin’ him an’ Paul.  Well, ef it keeps on huntin’ him an’ Paul, it’s bound to run up agin us, because Paul an’ Henry are now a part o’ our gang.  Ez fur me, I’ve done a lot o’ trampin’ after buffalo, an’ I feel too tired to run, I jest do.”

“I ain’t seen no better place for cookin’ than this,” said Jim Hart, undoubling himself, “an’ I like the looks o’ the country round here pow’ful well.  I’d hate to leave it before I got ready,”

“’Tain’t healthy to run afore you’re ready,” said Ike Stebbins, a short, extremely thick man.  “It ain’t good for the stomach.  Pumps the blood right up to the heart, an’ I ain’t feelin’ very good just now, noway.  Can’t afford to take no more risks to my health.”

A slight smile passed over the stern, bronzed face of Tom Ross.

“I expected to hear you talk that way, boys,” he said, “it’s in your blood; but thar’s a better reason still for our not goin’.  If this war band stays around here, it’ll be pickin’ off settlers, an’ it’s fur us to stop it.  Now, them Shawnees are comin’ a-huntin’ us.  I jest wish to say that we don’t mean to be the hunted; we’re to be the hunters ourselves.”

Sharp exclamations of approval broke from all these fierce spirits of the border.  But the deepest and most dangerous gleam of all was in the eyes of Henry Ware.  All his primeval instincts were alive, and foremost among them was the desire to fight.  He was tired of running, of seeking to escape, and his warlike blood was up and leaping.  Two more men who had been out ranging the woods for buffalo, or any other worthy game that might happen in their way, came in presently, and the little army, with the addition of the two boys, was now raised to the number of ten.  And a real little army it was, fortified with indomitable hearts and all the skill and knowledge of the wilderness.

When Paul awoke beneath the pressure of Henry’s hand on his shoulder, the sun was much higher, and the forest swam in limpid light.  He noticed at once that the fire was out, trampled under strong heels, and that all the men looked as if ready for instant conflict.  He rubbed his eyes and sprang to his feet, half in shame that he should have slept while others watched.  It was Shif’less Sol who came to his rescue.

“It’s all right, Paul,” he drawled.  “We all know you were pow’ful tired, an’ I’d have slept, too, ef them fellows hadn’t been mean enough to keep me from it.  You wuz just nacherally overpowered, an’ you had to do it.”

Paul looked around at the little group, and he read the meaning in the eye of every man.

“You are going to fight that war band?” he said.

“It ‘pears to me that it’s a sight less tirin’ than runnin’ away,” replied Shif’less Sol, “though we hate to drag you, Paul, into such a fracas.”