A tall stump was distorted into the figure of an Indian warrior, a clump of bushes took the shape of an entire group of Shawnees, and many savage, black eyes looked from the leaves.

Paul's reason told him that he beheld nothing, but his fancy put them there, nevertheless.

He saw presently a little jet of smoke, rising like a white feather; he heard a report, and then the sound of a bullet burying itself with a soft sigh in a log of the cabin.

He laughed at the futility of it, but Henry said: "They're just trying us a little--skirmishing, so to speak.

Be careful there, Paul! A chance bullet might catch you in the eye at the loophole." More lead came from the forest, and there was a sharp crackle of rifle fire.