A double guard was placed at the water's edge, lest the warriors come back for a new attack, and the wounded were made as comfortable as the circumstances would admit.
Luckily Willet and many others were well acquainted with the rude but effective border surgery, much of it learned from the Indians, and they were able to give timely help.
The hurt endured in silence.

Their frontier stoicism did not allow them to give voice to pain.

Blankets were spread for them under the sheds or in the sawmill, and some, despite their injuries, fell asleep from exhaustion.

Soldiers and borderers walked behind the palisades, others continually molded bullets, while some were deep in slumber, waiting their turn to be called for the watch.
It began to rain by and by, not heavily, but a slow, dull, seeping fall that was inexpressibly dreary, and the thick, clammy darkness, shot with mists and vapors from the lake, rolled up to the very edge of the fires.

Robert might have joined the sleepers, as he was detached from immediate duty, but his brain was still too much heated to admit it.