Ned felt a singular composure.  It seemed to him that he had passed through so many emotions that he had none left now but calm and expectancy.  As the night was somewhat cold he even remembered to throw one of the blankets over his body, as he lay behind the log.  Obed noticed it and his sharp eyes brightened with approval.  It was obvious that the Lipans were now in the woods about them, and that the long chase was at an end, but the boy was as steady as a rock.

Ned looked continually for the second appearance of the shadows.  Nothing within the range of his half circle escaped him.  He saw the wild turkeys unfold their wings, and fly heavily away, which was absolute proof of the presence of the Lipans.  He finally saw the shadow for the second time, and, at almost the same moment, a pink dot appeared in the woods.  The crack of a rifle followed, and a bullet knocked up a little dust at least fifty yards short of them.  Obed sniffed contemptuously.

“One good bullet wasted,” he said, “and one good bullet, I suppose, deserves another, but they won’t fire again—­yet.  It shows that they know we’re on guard.  They won’t rush us.  They’ll wait for time, thirst and starvation.”

Obed was right.  Not another shot was fired, nor did any of the Lipans show themselves.  Day came, and the forest was as quiet and peaceful as if it were a park.  Some little birds of brilliant plumage sang as heralds of dawn, and sunlight flooded the trees and the opening.  Ned and Obed moved themselves into more comfortable positions and waited.

They were to have another terrible trial of Indian patience.  No attack was made.  The two lay behind the logs and watched the circle of the forest, until their eyes grew weary.  The silence and peace that had marked the dawn continued through all the hours of the morning.  Although the wild turkeys had flown away, the birds that lived in this forest seemed to take no alarm.  They hopped peacefully from bough to bough, and sang their little songs as if there were no alien presence.  But Ned and Obed had been through too many dangers to be entrapped into a belief that the Lipans had gone.  They matched patience with patience.  The sun went slowly up toward the zenith, and the earth grew hot, but they were protected from the fiery rays by the foliage of the trees.  Yet Ned grew restless.  He was continually poking the muzzle of his rifle over the log and seeking a target, although the forest revealed no human being.  Finally Obed put his hand upon his arm.

“Easy, now, easy, Ned,” he said.  “Don’t waste your strength and nerves.  They can’t charge us, at least in the daylight, without our seeing them, and, when they come, we want to be as strong of body and brain as possible.  We won’t take the fight to them.  They must bring it to us.”

Ned blushed.  Meanwhile the afternoon dragged on, slow and silent, as the morning had been.

CHAPTER XIII