Right in the center of the circle, inclosed by the wagons, a half dozen chosen spademen dug a deep hole, and then the dead were brought forth, ready for burial.  A minister prayed and the women sang.  Overhead, the late sun burned brilliant and red, and from the forest, as a kind of stern chorus, came the pattering rifle shots.  But the last ceremony, all the more solemn and impressive because of these sights and sounds, went on unbroken.  The dead were buried deep, then covered over, and the ground trodden that none might disturb their rest.  Then all turned to the living need.

The five, barring slight scratches suffered by Ross and Shif’less Sol, had escaped unhurt, and now they labored with the others to throw up the wall of earth about the wagons.  A spring took its rise in the center of the plain, and flowed down to the river.  This spring was within the circle of the wagons, and they were assured of plenty of water.

Henry Ware looked over the crowd, and he rejoiced at their spirits, which had not been dampened by the sight of their dead.  They had fought magnificently, and they were ready to fight again.  Already fires were burning within the circle of the wagons, and the women were cooking supper.  The pleasant odor of food arose, and men began to eat.  Daniel Poe, as usual, turned to Henry.

“You are sure that they will make a new attack?” he said.

“Yes,” replied Henry.  “They have not come so far to retire after one repulse.  We outflanked them there at the river, but they think that they will certainly get us, burdened as we are with the women and children.  It’s still a long road to Wareville.”

“We can never repay the debt we owe to you and your comrades,” said Daniel Poe.

“Don’t think of it.  It’s the thing that we were bound to do.”

Daniel Poe looked at the setting sun, now red like blood.  Far over the western forest twilight shadows were coming.

“I wish this night was over,” he said.

“If they attack we’ll beat them off,” said Henry confidently.

“But the cost, the cost!” murmured Daniel Poe.

Paul meanwhile was within the circle of wagons, in his great role of sustainer.  He had fought like a paladin in the battle, and now he was telling what a great fight they had made, and what a greater one they could make, if need be.  High spirits seemed to flow spontaneously from him, and the others caught the infection.  More than one Amazon looked at him affectionately, as she would have looked at a son.  Shif’less Sol joined him as he stood by one of the fires.

“I’ve been workin’ out thar with a spade more’n an hour,” said the shiftless one in a tone of deep disgust, “an’ I’m tired plumb to death.  I’ll lay down before that fire an’ sleep till mornin’, ef every one uv you will promise not to say a word an’ won’t disturb me.”

A laugh arose.

“Why, Mr. Hyde,” exclaimed one of the Amazons, “they say there was not a more industrious man in the battle than you.”