And the scout turned and entered the block-house. But it was by no means his intention to intrust the safety of the settlement to such hands as Jenkins'; he only wished to test his courage, and create a little diversion for his own individual benefit. He shut the door and listened.
He could hear Jenkins walking along the platform, stamping his feet bravely upon it, and whistling as loudly as his lips would possibly permit him. Dingle ventured to open the door very slightly and peep out at him. He saw him with his hands thrust deep down into his pockets, his rifle leaning against the block-house, and shooting his feet far out in advance, and slapping them down on the planks with such effect as to set the men within growling and snarling at each other, as they half awoke from their slumbers. His hat was jammed down upon the back of his head, his hair dashed away from his forehead, the white of his eyes only being visible, as the pupils were constantly turned toward the dreaded wood. His mouth resembled the letter O, fringed around the edges, as he resolutely maintained its position. "Old Hundred" came out loudly, the fall of each foot being emphasized by a desperate burst of wind and music, and a spasmodic jerk of the head now and then. When the whistle, at times, became more windy than musical, he rested his lips by communings with himself.
"Darn the Injins! I wish they were all dead! I can't see what they want poking round here when I'm standing watch. If I catch sight of one, I'll bet he will wish he never heard of Pete Jenkins! They're mean to be watching us all the time. If I was the Injins, I would keep hunting the deers and bears and I never would come around here when I was standing watch, but I'd shoot that Dingle, because he's so everlastingly mean. Let me see: I was turning 'Old Hundred,' I believe." The tune was now resumed, and continued a short time, when he again broke forth. "If them Injins will only stay away till morning I won't care, though it would be all the same to me, and perhaps just as well if they didn't come then either. I was just thinking—hello! Jerusalem! I seen something move then as sure as the world!"
Dingle, who had been listening all the while, now judged that it was time to venture forth, and, closing the door behind him, stood upon the platform. Jenkins, whose eyes were turned toward the wood, saw nothing of him, until he tumbled over his bent form.
"Thunderation! that you. Dingle? what you doing here?" he exclaimed, scrambling to his feet again.
"I thought I'd come out and keep you company a while."
"Good! I am glad of it, for I feel dreadful lonely."
"I thought I did, out yonder near the edge of the wood."
Dingle looked intently toward the point indicated a few moments, and then became satisfied that Jenkins was right—there was a person there. While gazing in this direction, he purposely kept his body concealed by the guard around the platform. He continued his watch upon the suspicious object, and at last satisfied himself of the identity of the person who had thus alarmed his friend.