On a hook on the wall hung a woman's apron, and two or three rude domestic utensils lay on the floor.

The sight had Its pathos for Paul, but he was glad that the Holts had gone in time.

He was glad, too, that they had left their house behind that he and Henry might use it when they needed it most, because he began to be conscious now of a great weakness, both of body and spirit.
Hooks and a stout wooden bar still remained, and as Henry closed the door and dropped the bar into place, he exclaimed exultantly: "They may get us, Paul, but they'll pay a full price before they do it." "I'd rather they wouldn't get us at all," said Paul.
Nevertheless his imagination, leaping back to the other extreme, made the lone cabin the great fortress that he wished.

And a fortress it was in more senses than one.

Built of heavy logs, securely chinked, the single window and the single door closed with heavy oaken shutters, no bullet could reach them there.