He set himself to count the stars which peeped through the leaves above his head, and listened to the occasional stir of birds and squirrels in their nests.
He knew and loved them all, and they on their parts knew that Jem never stole birds' eggs or merry baby squirrels, as the other boys did.
"It is only Jem," they would say when they saw him coming, and they never thought of hiding from him.
But somehow Jem did not get very far in his counting of the stars--they danced about too much, his head _would_ drop down, and his eyes would _not_ keep open.

It is not easy for a tired little boy of eleven years old to keep awake at night, and so in a very few minutes Jem was fast asleep.
It seemed to him that he had scarcely closed his eyes when a slight noise caused him to open them, and then he was wide awake in a moment, for, with a thrill of horror, he became aware of two Indians standing close beside him in the strange pale-green light of early dawn.

As they silently gazed down upon him his heart seemed to stand still, and his next impulse was to cry out, but he had learned to keep his wits about him, and remember that even an Indian has a certain respect for a manly spirit.

So he sat up and boldly returned the gaze of the fierce black eyes--but at the same time he had heard too many tales of the cruelties practised by Indians on their captives not to realise the danger he was in.
The younger of the red men was already fingering his hatchet, whilst he muttered some hostile words which boded no good to our hero, but the elder, who appeared to be a man of some importance, silenced his companion with a gesture, and then, crossing his arms, said, in musical, broken English: "My young brother is abroad early." "I was going across the forest to get medicine for my Mother," replied Jem.
"But the medicine-man of the palefaces does not live in the forest," returned the Indian.

"Where does the Mother of my brother live ?" "In the clearing of the entrance to the west track.