“Can’t ya sleep, Friar?” sez I.
“No, no, I can’t sleep,” sez he with a sigh. “Where do you think she is, Happy?”
“They probably took her with ’em; and left the Chink to guard her, back in the hills,” sez I. “No matter what happens, they’re not liable to harm her.”
“It’s sore hard to be patient,” sez the Friar. “I am honestly opposed to all violence and bloodshed. I have allus believed that all wars were useless and unnecessary; but it’s sometimes hard for me to love my enemies.”
“You’re just worried and can’t see clear,” sez I soothin’ly. “It’s plain enough if you just think it out—that’s the best part o’ religion. One place it sez: ‘Love your enemies.’ In another it sez: ‘Foller the Lord’s example.’ In still another it sez: ‘Whom he loves, he chasteneth’—which you said meant to punish. Now then, you have it all worked out: the proper way to love your enemy is to punish him; and, accordin’ to this rule, we’re goin’ to love the hide off o’ one o’ your enemies, if so be we’re able to do it.”
But the Friar never would stand for havin’ his religion doctored to suit the taste, he had to take it as stiff and raw as alcohol, where he was concerned, himself; so he turned in and explained things to me until from my standpoint, misery was the only religious excuse a feller had for bein’ happy.
By this, it was time to change watches, so the Friar relieved Olaf, while Horace and his elephant-pest went out on the front porch to watch the fords, and I turned in. None of us took our boots off that night; we had a little fire in the big room, and slept on the floor, holdin’ our belts in our hands. I drowsed off quick enough this time, knowin’ ’at Tank and Promotheus would be next on watch and certain not to let anything surprise them.
Sure enough, just about the time we had slept ourselves into complete forgetfulness, we were all jerked to our feet by the first shot Tank fired, and this one shot was followed by a bunch of others. The Cross-branders had crept down the ravine, and a little after three when the fire had burned low, they had tried to get by unnoticed. Ol’ Tank only had one eye, but it was a workin’ eye, if ever the’ was one, and he shot two of ’em with one o’ their own rifles, and when they rushed him in a body, spreadin’ out wide, he retreated to the old cabin, accordin’ to directions.
The old cabin had loopholes in it, and we had found three fairly good rifles, but not much ammunition. We didn’t waste any shots while it was still dark; but they fired at us now and again. They had brought the five rifles we had left at our camp, and used ’em freely. Slim had taken the other rifle with him.
All durin’ that day they broke the monotony by takin’ frequent shots at us; but the logs in the cabin had been matched up for just such a purpose, and not one of us was even scratched with a splinter. What we were most afraid of was, ’at they would find some way to set fire to the cabin, and we counted on that bein’ one o’ the night’s diversities.