"Yes," replied Mr. Parlin; "we are between its walls, and solid walls,
too, they are. See that feller overhead stickin' out from the ceilin'.
There is a beam for you, all of oak, too, and it measures eleven inches by
thirteen. Now step outside. There, boys, in that corner, the clapboards
are broken, and you can see what was the original style of the walls. They
were laid in this way: big, square sticks of oak were laid one upon the
other, the ends dovetailed and secured by pins, the cracks being filled
with mortar. You see, no Injun bullet could go through that wall, and
there would be little satisfaction in building a fire against it, unless
an immense one."

Will Somers was here striding over the ground, pacing the length of the
garrison wall.

"About twenty feet," he said.

"Yes, twenty feet hits the mark," replied Mr. Parlin. "The sticks are a
foot wide, and measure six inches through. It makes a pretty good wall.
Step in and I'll show you where they went in and out. There, it was that
narrow door over in that side, and that openin' up there, about two feet
square, they say, was the winder, and they used to fire out of it. At
night they fitted a block into it and fastened up the door-way with logs."

"Did they have any Indians about here, any real ones?" asked Charlie.

"There is only one kind, sonny, when you talk about full-blooded Injuns,
and I guess our fathers found it out. Injuns! Thick as pizen any day. Why,
down in that place just beyond here a woman was goin' along one day, and
she was carryin' an earthen pot. The Injuns just whooped out on her, and
it was the last time the poor thing was seen alive. The pot was found