two days, during which time the robbers poured an almost constant shower
of bullets against the walls of the house, they withdrew, after shooting
and dispersing the cattle, and destroying the crops. Not one of Mr.
Winters's party was injured; but the outlaws suffered so severely, that
they never repeated the attempt to rob that rancho.

Frank and Archie never grew tired of hearing Uncle James tell the story
of that fight, and nearly every day they examined the marks of the
bullets on the logs, sometimes being foolish enough to wish that they
had been there to take part in those exciting scenes, or that the
robbers would return and make another attack on the house, so that they
might be able to say that they had been in a real battle. Then they
should have a story to tell that would be worth listening to. They never
imagined that, before they were many years older, they could recount
adventures quite as exciting as their uncle's.

The interior of the house presented a strange contrast to the outside.
When one crossed the threshold, he found himself surrounded with all the
comforts of civilization. There were fine carpets on the floors, oil
paintings on the walls, and easy chairs, sofas, and musical instruments
in abundance. The room the boys occupied was the only one in which could
be found any traces of the backwoods. It was a pleasant, cheerful
apartment, quite as nicely furnished as the other rooms in the house,
and every thing about it bespoke the taste and character of its young
masters. A stranger, having taken a single glance at the numerous
articles hung upon the walls, and scattered about over the floor--some
of them useful and ornamental, others apparently of no value or service
to any one--could have told that its presiding geniuses were live,
wide-awake, restless boys.