“Here I am,” said Joe, coming out, and making an effort to assume a bold bearing: “I’m ready now—I only wanted to fix my gun—who’s afraid?” saying which, he strode in a stooping posture to the loophole on the west of the inclosure.
While the whole male force of the garrison was required to act as sentinels, Mary, whose trepidation had been succeeded by deliberate resolution, was busily employed moulding bullets.
An hour passed, and no Indians had yet been seen, although an occasional arrow assured the besieged party that the enemy still remained in the immediate vicinity. They cleared away the snow at their posts, and placing dry straw to stand upon, prepared to continue the watch throughout the day and night. Nor were they to suffer for food; for Mary, though she had not been requested so to do, ere long, to their joyful surprise, came forth with a dinner handsomely provided, which she placed before them with a smile of satisfaction playing on her lips, and entirely unmindful of the shafts that continued to fly overhead, which either pierced the wood and remained stationary, or fell expended and harmless at her feet.
Affairs thus remained till night, when the arrows ceased to fly. There was not a cloud in the heavens, and the moon rose up in purest brightness. A breathless stillness pervaded the air, and no sound for a great length of time could be heard but the hooting of owls on the opposite side of the river, and the howling of wolves in the flats about a mile above.
“I’m not a bit cold—are you?” said Joe, addressing Sneak.
“Dad! keep an eye out!” replied Sneak, in a low tone.
“There’s nothing out this way but a bush. But I declare it seems to be bigger and nigher than it was in the daytime,” said Joe.
“Don’t speak so loud,” remarked Boone, crossing to where Joe stood, and looking through at the bush.
“It’s nothing but a bush,” said Joe.
“Do you wish to kill an Indian?” inquired Boone.