clouds, and the trees were dark and shadowy. Now and then the wind swept a
dash of rain in their faces, and the air remained raw and chill. Sharp as
were their eyes, they could not see very far into the forest, but they
could see behind them the flame of their own camp fires, a core of light
in the wilderness.

"It might be better to put out all those fires," said Henry, "but I don't
believe Captain Colfax would hear to it. He thinks we're too strong to
fear any serious attack."

"No," said Shif'less Sol, "he wouldn't do it, an' the men would grumble,
too. We've got to be the outside guard ourselves."

The three kept together, continuing their steady patrol in a semi-circle
about the camp, the side of the river being guarded by the boats
themselves. The rain died to a drizzle, but the clouds remained, and the
skies were dark. Hours passed, and nearly everybody slept soundly by the
fires, but the faithful three, gliding among the wet trees and bushes,
still watched.

They heard faint noises in the forest, the passage of the wind, or the
stir of a wild animal, and after a while they heard the long, plaintive
and weird note, with which they were so familiar, the howl of the wolf.

It was characteristic of the three that when this faint note, almost like
the sigh of the wind among the wet trees, reached their ears, they said
nothing, but merely stopped and in the obscurity glanced at one another
with eyes of understanding. They listened patiently, and the low,
plaintive howl came again and then once more, all from different points of
the compass. There had been a time when Henry Ware was deceived for a