It was nine o’clock next morning when Charlie awoke, much refreshed. Some moments elapsed before he could recollect where he was, and how he came there. Then, hastening, first to the port-holes, through which his guns were pointed, he scanned the field on all sides, to see if any enemy was in view. The result being satisfactory, he commenced preparations for breakfast, for Bub was now awake, and hungry as a “starved kitten.”

“I tell you what,” said he to Bub, as they ate their morning meal, “I’ve got a jolly plan for us. I’m going to dig a cave in the cellar, so that if the Indians should get into the cabin, we could hide there just as we did in the tree.”

“And you’ll have some water in there for me to drink,” suggested Bub.

“Yes,” answered Charlie; “we’ll have everything that we want.”

So, assuring himself, by another examination, that matters outside wore a peaceful aspect, he 251 repaired to the cellar, to commence the excavation. Luckily for Charlie’s plan, the cellar walls had been carelessly constructed, and in a corner he found a large-sized stone, that he could remove from its place in the foundation without disturbing the others. Taking this out, with the iron fire-shovel, he soon had drawn forth a large quantity of the loose sand.

“Now,” observed Charlie to Bub, “you must take the shovel, and throw the sand about the cellar, while I work with my hands.”

This was quite an easy task, the sand was so light and dry. And ere long he had a place large enough to conceal himself and Bub.

“But,” said he, “I shall make it extend farther in, so that if the cabin is burnt over our heads, it won’t be too hot for us.”

But Bub made little headway in shovelling the sand; so Charlie finished the job for him, and then from a heap of litter, which he had before taken the precaution to scrape into a corner, he took enough to cover the fresh sand all over.

“Now,” said he, “let’s try our new cave;” and, squeezing through the hole from which he had taken the stone, Bub creeping in after him, Charlie reached out and drew the stone into its place again. Charlie was delighted.

“I like this!” he exclaimed; “it’s more like Robinson Crusoe’s cave.” 252

Bub thought he liked it too, but soon cried out, “I can’t hardly breeve; an’ it’s drefful dark.”

“It’s lucky I’ve tried it,” replied Charlie; “but I’ll fix it all nice.”

And pushing out the stone with his foot, he went up stairs, and returned with an old bayonet, with which he succeeded in dexterously working some small holes through the mortar, with which the crevices of the ill-matched stones were filled. This was so ingeniously done, that it would not be noticed; and yet enough light and air were let in to make the place tolerable for the purpose for which it was intended.

It was now past noon, and they went up stairs, and Charlie looked out again, to see if there were any signs of danger; but still “all was quiet along the Potomac.”

“I don’t think,” sagely observed Charlie, “that the Indians are ever coming back. In my opinion they have had about enough of fighting, they cleared off so quick, and there is so many of them dead.”

At which Bub waxed valiant, and said,–

“I wish I had my big stick to stick into their backs, if they do come.”

Charlie could not forbear a laugh at this, notwithstanding the sanguinary scenes that had crowded the last few days with horrors, but answered,– 253

“I know what you can do, Bub, to drive them away, if they should come;” and, drawing a ball of twine from his pocket, he tied it to the trigger of one of the mounted rifles, then feeling again in his pocket for his knife to cut off the string, he said,–

“Where’s my jackknife? I must have lost it in going to the spring for water; lots of things tumbled out as I crawled through the grass. Never mind; I can use a case-knife;” and, taking one from the table, he divided the string so as to leave the end of it hanging within easy reach of Bub. He did the same to all the guns.

“Now,” he explained to Bub, “when I tell you to pull one of these strings, you must do it as quick as you can. I will whisper, Pull! and you must take right hold of the twine, and draw it so;” and, contrary to Charlie’s intention, bang went the rifle.

“Why, I didn’t mean to do that; but it will show you how. Pulling the string made the gun go off, you see.”

Bub was all attention, and asked, eagerly,

“Shall I do it now?”

“O, no,” replied Charlie. “I mean, when I tell you to. When the Indians come, and I say, Pull! Suppose, for instance, I should get up in this way,”–and he ascended to the lookout,–“and I should look out in this way,”–and he 254 put his eye to the port-hole,–“and I should see a big Indian coming to kill Bub.”

“Yes,” answered the little listener, “I knows;” and his eyes glistened with excitement.

“Well, as I was saying, I peep out, and I see a big Indian coming–”

Bub at this instinctively drew nearer the string, his gaze on Charlie.

“And I should whisper, Pull!”

Instantly Bub’s fat fist twitched the string, and a second report echoed over the prairie.

“What did you do that for?” asked his brother, much displeased. “I didn’t wish you to do it now. I was only explaining how to do it, and I want you to do it right. Don’t touch the strings till I tell you; and then, when I give the word, you’ll pull–won’t you?”

Curly-head looked as if he intended to stand by the guns.

“In that way, Bub,” continued Charlie, “we could keep off a great many Indians; I loading and firing, and you firing too, Bub. But I haven’t put that last rifle in just right;” and glancing out of the hole, as he adjusted it, he turned deathly pale, and his whispered utterance was strangely faint, as he exclaimed,–

“If there isn’t an Indian now!”

It is said by old hunters accustomed to shoot small game, however skilful in the use of fire-arms 255 they may be, that the first time they see a large animal,–a deer, for example,–such a nervous excitement seizes them, although the creature stands within a few feet of them, for an instant they cannot command themselves to fire; and when they do, they are sure to miss the object. It is not surprising, then, that Charlie was, for a moment, paralyzed. He gazed at the Indian as if fascinated, as the savage glided along, his head bent, going from the spring towards the tree, in the very path through which Charlie had carried the water, stooping to pick up something, then keeping on a few paces, then stopping and putting his ear to the ground, as if intently listening. He was within easy range of Charlie’s rifle all the time; yet the boy lifted not his finger.

The savage now rapidly darted forward, as if following Charlie’s trail, and, sweeping the bushes back with his hand, discovered the opening in the tree, and, to Charlie’s amazement, managed to creep in. Nearly an hour had passed, and Charlie still waited in painful suspense, wondering what next would transpire, when he saw a score or more of Indians stealthily approaching from different directions towards the cabin. The blood returned to Charlie’s face, and, recovering his senses, he whispered to Bub, “The Indians have come.” 256

He then took sight across the rifle nearest Bub, and found that it covered several of the savages; and, taking aim with the one next to it, he said to his little brother, “Pull!” Bub did so, and, starting on the round trot, pulled each string in succession. A broadside ensued that would have done honor to an old-fashioned ship of war. The effect was prodigious. The savages seemed to think that a strong force occupied the cabin; for, with a loud yell, and a hasty discharge of fire-arms, they vanished from sight.

Charlie was astounded at Bub’s misunderstanding of the order and the effect produced. Gazing amazed into vacancy,–for the enemy had disappeared,–he sprang to the floor, hugged Bub till he almost suffocated him, and, laughing uncontrollably, stammered, “That beats Robinson Crusoe!”

The scene was indeed ludicrous. The savages had come to carry off their dead comrades, and, creeping cautiously along, had got so near the house without being observed, that their suspicion that the cabin was vacated became confirmed. The discharge of the rifles by the boys was, therefore, a perfect surprise, the fact that they were permitted to get so near before they were fired upon impressing them all the more; for they well knew that, if few were in the dwelling to defend it, every effort would have 257 been put forth to keep them at a distance. Moreover, the firing coming from all sides of the dwelling at once, had also the appearance as if it was quite heavily manned.

It was a brilliant day, and the light puff of smoke from each rifle rose at once into the air, giving Charlie a fine view of the field; and the simultaneous springing up of so many astonished savages, their queer grimaces, and the grotesque manner in which they scrambled out of range, struck the lad as irresistibly comic, especially as he considered that it was Bub’s blunder that was at the bottom of the rout.

Recovering himself, he proceeded to reload the rifles. But one thing gave him uneasiness. The Indian, he was quite sure, was still in the tree. What was he there for? “Perhaps,” thought Charlie, “he will make a hole through the tree, and watch his chance, and shoot me. At any rate, he’s a spy; and if he should find out that only Bub and I were here, he might make us trouble.”

He was puzzled to know what to do. He set himself to watch through the port-hole to see if he would come out. Two long hours Charlie remained at his post, till he grew weary with the duty. Then he bethought himself of another plan. He had read in the old spelling book of the boy who wouldn’t descend from the farmer’s 258 apple tree for coaxing; and the farmer said, “If you will not come down for words, I’ll try the effect of stones,” which brought the trespasser quickly to the ground. Now, the Indian was not up a tree, but he was in one, and he would not come out for Charlie’s watching; so Charlie thought he would employ harder arguments, and, aiming at the point where he supposed the savage must be in his hiding-place, he blazed away. He had fired three times, when, suddenly, the tawny occupant slipped out, and crouched behind the tree, from which he commenced making friendly signs towards the corner of the cabin from which the bullets came. Charlie understood the signals, but muttering, “You can’t catch me that way, old villain,” continued firing every time he thought he could hit the savage. The Indian had not, during all this, fired in return. This seemed curious to the boy; but concluding it to be an Indian trick, he determined not to be outwitted. Whatever the object of the savage was in his mysterious conduct, he at last despaired of accomplishing it, and adroitly slipped away.

As night drew its heavy curtains around the beleaguered cabin, Charlie experienced a feeling of dread creeping over him. He felt comparatively safe while he could see the foe; but now the night seemed ominous of evil. The wind 259 moaning through the trees, the ticking of the insect under the bark in the logs, and even the shrill chirping of the cricket, sounded unnatural to him. He thought of the dead and gory forms stretched upon the greensward without; the grass matted with human blood; the imprecations and fierce shouts that had resounded, and the deathly struggles that passed before him while sheltered by the friendly tree; the heavy tramp of men fighting in the deadly struggle; the sharp reports of the fire-arms; the horrible screams and heart-piercing pleadings of women and children as they were murdered and tortured by the savages; the lurid glare of the burning cabins; the Indians dancing and yelling in horrid mirth: his active brain was filled with such remembrances. In the stillness and loneliness of night, in that cabin, these awful scenes came up with appalling vividness, and weird and demon faces seemed to peep and mutter at him from the corners of the room. Once he fancied that he heard the cellar stairs creak under a heavy tread. And while Bub slept peacefully in childish unconsciousness of his brother’s terror, he shivered and watched through that long night until the rosy beams of morning dispelled the illusions of the darkness.