a good account, of itself in times past; and would again if called to
show its sterling qualities. And with this in the hands of Thad
Brewster, who was a perfectly fearless chap, according to his churns,
who did not know that his boy heart could hammer in his breast like a
runaway steam engine, why, they surely ought to be able to stave off any
ordinary attack.

Giraffe felt better when he had picked up the camp hatchet, and waved it
several times in the air, making vicious stabs at an imaginary enemy.

"Get ready for boarders, fellows!" remarked Step Hen, who had reached in
and secured the long bread-knife, which would make a most formidable
weapon, if only he had the nerve to wield the same.

"Not on your life!" snapped Giraffe; "we've got enough mouths to feed as
it is, without taking, on any more. Boarders nothing. You've got
another think coming, Step Hen, don't you see?"

"But after all, fellows," Thad told his followers, "this may be a false
alarm. That light has gone now. It may only have been some farmer or
miner letting his wife know he was on the way home. How do we know any
different? And what interest would any rascals have in trying to come
aboard this boat?"

"That sounds all very fine, Thad," remarked Davy; "but I hope we ain't
thinkin' of all going to sleep at once to-night!"

"We ought to have a sentry on duty all the time," suggested Giraffe.

"I appoint you for that onerous duty, then, Giraffe; consider that