“It stands it bravely,” exclaimed the scout. “They’ve got to put on more force than that if they break in here. I guess you built that door, Sam, for jest such a time as this.”
“I hope they won’t get in,” exclaimed a voice from a dark corner of the apartment. “If they should and carry off my pack, I’m a ruined man. Say, mister, what will you give me for it now, and take yer chances?”
“You had better worry about yer scalp than that pack of your’n,” returned the scout. “If you lose that, I don’t think yer knick-nacks will amount to much to ye.”
“Oh dear, I wish I was in New Hampshire! What a ’tarnal fool I was to come out here anyway! Aunt Betsey alwa’s told me that a rolling stone gathered no moss. I wish I had sot down as flat as the big rock in the sheep-pasture afore I had come out here. Jerusalem! but I du believe they will stave the house down.”
Another blow had fallen upon the door with such tremendous force, that it had started a little inward, throwing down the barricade of movable articles which had been piled against it to help strengthen it, making such a clatter that the Yankee asked if the side of the cabin was falling in.
But still the door was not driven from its place, and hastily the two men went to building up the barricade again.
“They used a log of wood that time,” said Sam. “But they have got to deal it a heavier blow than that, before they will batter it down. I may be mistaken, but I think it is good for all they can bring against it.”
“I hope so,” said Dick. “But they are in earnest about getting in here, and I’m afraid they will, some way. Rushing Water will tear this cabin to pieces, but what he will get Ruth into his hands.”
“But while I live, or so long as one log lays upon another, he shall never have my child,” said the settler, in a low, determined tone.
“And I say amen to that,” said Dick, fervently. “The Death-Dealer has not gone under yet, and while he has life he will not leave her.”