“I understand what you want, Paul,” he whispered.  “I, too, feel it, but it pays us to wait.  Let ’em waste their lead.”

Paul stopped, ashamed of himself, and his blood grew cooler.  He was not one to wish anybody’s life, and again his mind rebelled at the necessity of conflict.

“Thank you, Henry,” he said, and resumed his place by the wall.

No more shots were fired.  The warriors could not know whether or not their bullets had hit a human mark, and Henry inferred that they would wait a while, crouched against the cabin.  He reckoned that when they did move they would attack the door, and he noiselessly made an additional prop for it with the heavy wooden bench.  But the faint sound of footsteps suddenly ceased, and Henry, listening intently, could hear nothing save the rising wind.  He looked through one of the loopholes, but he could not see anything of the savages.  Either they were still crouching against the wall, or had slipped back to the forest.  But he saw enough to tell him that the night was growing cloudy, and that the air was damp.

Presently rain fell in a slow drizzle, but Henry still watched at the loophole, and soon he caught a glimpse of two parallel rows of men bearing something heavy, and approaching the cabin.  They had secured a tree trunk, and would batter down the door; but they must come within range, and Henry smiled to himself.  Then he beckoned to Paul to come to his side.

“Bring me your two rifles,” he whispered.  “This is the only place from which we can reach them now, and I want you to pass me the loaded guns as fast as I can fire them.”

Paul came and stood ready, although his mind rebelled once more at the need to shoot.  Henry looked again, and saw the brown files approaching.  He thrust the muzzle of the rifle through the hole and fired at a row of brown legs, and then, with only a second between, he discharged another bullet at the same target.  Cries of pain and rage arose, there was a thud as the heavy log was dropped to the ground, and Henry had time to send a third shot after the fleeing warriors as they ran for the forest.

“They won’t try that again,” said Henry.  “They cannot approach the door without coming within range of the loophole, and they’ll rest a while now to think up some new trick.”

“What will be the end of it?” asked Paul.

“Nobody can say,” replied the great youth calmly.  “Indians don’t stick to a thing as white men do; they may get tired and go away after a while, but not yet, and it’s for you and me, Paul, to watch and fight.”

A certain fierce resolve showed in his tone, and Paul knew that Henry felt himself a match for anything.

“Better eat and drink a little more, Paul,” said Henry.  “Take the half of a pigeon.  We’ll need all our strength.”

Paul thought the advice good, and followed it.  Then came another period of that terrible waiting.