He went inside with nervous haste and fastened up the entrance.
"Let's make a good fire and go to bed."
So they turned in after partly undressing, but not to sleep for hours. Yan in particular was in a state of nervous excitement. His heart had beaten violently when he went out that time, and even now that mysterious dread was on him. The fire was the one comfortable thing. He dozed off, but started up several times at some slight sound. Once it was a peculiar "Tick, tick, scr-a-a-a-a-pe, lick-scra-a-a-a-a-a-pe," down the teepee over his head. "A Bear" was his first notion, but on second thoughts he decided it was only a leaf sliding down the canvas. Later he was roused by a "Scratch, scratch, scratch" close to him. He listened silently for some time. This was no leaf; it was an animal! Yes, surely—it was a Mouse. He slapped the canvas violently and "hissed" till it went away, but as he listened he heard again that peculiar wail in the tree-tops. It almost made his hair sit up. He reached out and poked the fire together into a blaze. All was still and in time he dozed off. Once more he was wide awake in a flash and saw Sam sitting up in bed listening.
[267] "What is it, Sam?" he whispered.
"I dunno. Where's the axe?"
"Right here."
"Let me have it on my side. You kin have the hatchet."