An hour had passed, and yet there were no indications of an attack. The inmates of the cottage had taken their places as on the night of the previous conflict; and, with all their senses upon the alert, endeavored to detect the approach of an enemy, from whom so much was to be feared. Ruth and Singing-Bird had both taken positions by the loop-holes, and without strenuous objection; for, on a night that threatened to be so dangerous, they, even, might render important resistance. Another hour passed. Was it possible that the Indians, satisfied with the lives of their two unfortunate prisoners, had abandoned the idea of again attacking the cottage? This query presented itself to the mind of more than one of the little garrison; and it was with a pleasant thrill of hope, that the idea first occurred to the mind of Ruth. Even Ichabod, with all his experience in Indian character, suggested to Eagle's-Wing the possibility that such a hope might be well-founded.
"No," was the answer; "don't know Injins if you think so. They come, sartin, by'mby. Panther cunning Injin. He mean to get cottage to-night, any way—that what it means."
"Do you suppose, Eagle's-Wing, that they're anywhere round here now?" asked Ichabod, more to hear what his friend would answer, than for any other purpose.
"Guess so; guess that ravine full of Injins. Hear 'em, by'mby. They won't yell nor shoot. Know that don't do any good. Can't shoot through logs; that they know."
"I reckon you're about right, Eagle's-Wing. They want to put us off our guard; and by-and-by some miscreant will try to set us afire. But if we watch, we can prevent that; they can't carry fire without our seeing it."
"Don't know that. Little spark make great fire, sometime. Hide little spark pretty well, if they try."
The night had now become dark; the sky was partly obscured by clouds—sufficiently so to render it extremely difficult to discern objects no larger than the size of a man, at even a rod's distance. But while the darkness would allow the Indians to approach nearer the building with less chance of detection, it would also render it more difficult for them to conceal any attempt to set the cottage on fire.
Two, three, or even four hours, might elapse ere any demonstration on the part of the Senecas would be made. This uncertainty, united with the darkness and silence which reigned both within and without, tasked the spirits of the defenders more than any open attack would have done. No anxiety is more overpowering than that of awaiting an event the coming of which is to be dreaded, and yet which will certainly arrive. In the whole range of catastrophes to which mankind are subject, there is, perhaps, but one important exception to this remark, and that is the great catastrophe to which each individual of the human family is subject, which is certain to arrive, and which is universally dreaded. It may arrive soon or late—no one knows when, or how it will come; yet the anxiety incident to that event, is easily overcome; and one by one, a generation passes away, each one knowing well his doom, yet neglecting the least preparation.
This anxiety at length became so irksome, that a desultory conversation sprung up between the different individuals of the party—yet, without any cessation of watchfulness, Ichabod, who had remained silent since the last reply of Eagle's-Wing, now again addressed his companion.
"Why wouldn't it be a good idea for one of us to reconnoitre a little? We could find out for sartin whether any of the reptiles are ra'ally round here or not?"