canoe somewhere along the lake. Waal, they've not caught the young
uns yet."

"The boats are closing up to each other," Mrs. Welch said. "They're
going to have a talk, I reckon. Yes, one of 'em's turning and going
down the lake, while the other's going up. I'd give a heap to know
where the young uns have got to."

The day passed quietly. An occasional shot toward the house showed
that the Indians remained in the vicinity and, indeed, dark forms
could be seen moving about in the distant parts of the clearing.

"Will it be possible," the farmer asked Pearson, when night again
fell, "to go out and see if we can discover any traces of them?"

"Worse than no use," Pearson said positively. "We should just lose
our har without doing no good whatever. If the Injuns in these
woods--and I reckon altogether there's a good many hundred of
'em--can't find 'em, ye may swear that we can't. That's just what
they're hoping, that we'll be fools enough to put ourselves outside
the stockade. They'll lie close round all night, and a weasel
wouldn't creep through 'em. Ef I thought there was jest a shadow of
chance of finding them young uns I'd risk it; but there's no
chance--not a bit of it."

A vigilant watch was again kept up all night, but all was still and
quiet. The next morning the Indians were still round them.

"Don't ye fret, ma'am!" Pearson said, as he saw how pale and wan Mrs.
Welch looked in the morning light. "You may bet your last shilling