That afternoon clouds came up for the first time.  It had been very warm on the river, but the heat and closeness did not develop into a rapid storm of thunder and lightning as so often happens in the Mississippi valley.  Instead, the air turned colder, and a raw, drizzling rain set it.  It was then that they appreciated the comfort of their well-equipped boats.  Everybody was wrapped up and protected, and they moved steadily on.

Henry and Shif’less Sol, as usual, went ashore later on to seek a landing place, and a site suitable for a camp, as it was considered wise always to give the men warm food.  Presently they found a fairly well sheltered spot near the shore, a slope surrounded by high trees, and when Adam Colfax received the word the boats were tied to the bank.  Some tents were pitched in the opening, and with considerable difficulty the fires were lighted.  A drizzling rain still fell, but the fires finally triumphed over it, and blazed and crackled merrily.  Nevertheless, this lightness and merriment were not communicated to the men, who shivered in the wet, drew close to the flames, and had downcast faces.  All the five were ashore and in the shadow of the woods they held a little conference of their own, talking with great earnestness.

“I think,” said Henry, “that we’re being watched and that there is danger, great danger.  One never knows what the wilderness contains.”

“Suppose that all of us watch the night through,” said Paul.

“No,” said Henry, “I think, Paul, that you ought to sleep and Long Jim should do so, too.  There are enough without you.  To-morrow night will be your turn.  We shouldn’t waste our resources.”

This satisfied Paul and Jim, and soon they were asleep in one of the tents, but Henry, Shif’less Sol, and Tom Ross were in the dripping forest outside Adam Colfax’s own line of sentinels, seeking the hidden danger.  The three remained together, and they looked everywhere.  They were on the east bank and there was nothing but forest.  The moon lay behind sodden clouds, and the trees were dark and shadowy.  Now and then the wind swept a dash of rain in their faces, and the air remained raw and chill.  Sharp as were their eyes, they could not see very far into the forest, but they could see behind them the flame of their own camp fires, a core of light in the wilderness.

“It might be better to put out all those fires,” said Henry, “but I don’t believe Captain Colfax would hear to it.  He thinks we’re too strong to fear any serious attack.”

“No,” said Shif’less Sol, “he wouldn’t do it, an’ the men would grumble, too.  We’ve got to be the outside guard ourselves.”

The three kept together, continuing their steady patrol in a semi-circle about the camp, the side of the river being guarded by the boats themselves.  The rain died to a drizzle, but the clouds remained, and the skies were dark.  Hours passed, and nearly everybody slept soundly by the fires, but the faithful three, gliding among the wet trees and bushes, still watched.