“If you injure a hair of Mary’s gift,” said Glenn, in anger, “you shall suffer as severe a fate yourself.”

“Pardon me,” said Joe to Mary; “I was excited—­I didn’t hardly know what I was doing.  I thought as we were going to be pent up by the Indians, for goodness only knows how long, that we’d better provide enough food to keep from starving.  I love the fawn as well as you do, and Mr. Glenn loves it because you gave it to him; but its natural to prefer our own lives to the lives of dumb animals.”

“I forgive you,” said Mary, playing with the silken ears of the pet.

“Say no more about it,” said Glenn; “but as you are so anxious to be well provided with comforts, if we are besieged, there is one thing I had forgotten, that is absolutely necessary for our existence, which you can procure.”

“What is it?  Be quick, for we havn’t a moment to lose,” said Joe.

“Water,” replied Glenn.

“That’s a fact—­but—­its way off at the spring, by the ferry,” said Joe, disliking the idea of exposing himself without the inclosure.

“True, yet it must be had.  If you can get it nearer to us, you are at liberty to do so,” said Glenn.

“Here comes Sneak,” said Mary; “he will assist you.”

Sneak readily agreed to the proposition, and he and Joe set out, each with a large bucket, while the rest of the party, with the exception of Boone (who desired to be left alone,) retired within the house.

When Sneak and Joe were filling their buckets at the spring the second time, the hounds (which attended them at Joe’s special request) commenced barking.

“What’s that?” cried Joe, dashing his bucket, water and all, in Sneak’s lap, and running ten or fifteen feet up the hill.

“Dod rot your cowardly heart!” exclaimed Sneak, rising up and shaking the cold water from his clothes; “if I don’t pay you for this, I wish I may be shot!”

“I thought it was the Indians,” said Joe, still staring at the small thicket of briers, where the hounds were yet growling and bounding about in a singular manner.

“I’ll see what it is and then pay you for this ducking,” said Sneak, walking briskly to the edge of the thicket, while the water trickled down over his moccasins.

“What is it?” cried Joe, leaping farther up the ascent with great trepidation, as he saw the hounds run out of the bushes as if pursued, and even Sneak retreating a few paces.  But what seemed very unaccountable was a smile on Sneak’s elongated features.

“What in the world can it be?” repeated Joe.

“Ha! ha! ha! if that ain’t a purty thing to skeer a full-grown man into fits!” said Sneak, retreating yet farther from the thicket.

“What makes you back out, then?” inquired Joe.  The hounds now ran to the men, and the next moment a small animal, not larger than a rabbit, of a dark colour, with long white stripes from the nose to the tail, made its appearance, and moved slowly toward the spring.  Sneak ran up the hill beyond the position occupied by Joe, maintaining all the time a most provoking smile.