"I will take the watch now, Miss Yardely, and do you lie down and rest."
"I will lie down," she said with a little laugh, "but I am afraid sleep will be another matter. My mind is in a ferment."
"You can try at any rate," he said. "I will call you if any untoward thing occurs."
"You promise?" she asked. "I wouldn't miss one bit of anything that is happening—not for worlds."
"I promise," he answered with a smile.
"Though I devoutly hope there will be no need for me to keep the promise."
"I'm not at all sure I do," laughed Helen, and obediently retired to her screened bunk.
Stane lit his pipe, and seated himself near the stove. He had, as he had previously told the girl, little fear of any attack developing that night, and this anticipation proved to be the correct one. The still, dead hours passed in quietness, and when the grey day broke, he cautiously opened the cabin-door and looked out. Nothing stirred anywhere, either in the forest or lakewards. He turned and looked at his companion who had just emerged from her sleeping place.
"I think we have our little world to ourselves again."
"Whoever made the attack may be lurking in the woods!" said Helen.