Nevertheless his imagination, leaping back to the other extreme, made the
lone cabin the great fortress that he wished. And a fortress it was in
more senses than one. Built of heavy logs, securely chinked, the single
window and the single door closed with heavy oaken shutters, no bullet
could reach them there. Paul sat down on a puncheon bench, and breathed
laboriously, but joyously. Then he looked with inquiry at Henry.

"It was built by a man named Holt," said Henry. "He was either a great
fool or a very brave man to come out here and settle alone. But a month
ago, after the Indian wars began, he either became wiser or less brave,
and he went into Marlowe with his family, leaving the place just as it
is."

"He left in time," said Paul.




CHAPTER III

THE LONE CABIN


Henry was deeply thankful for this shelter because he knew how badly it
was needed. He went to the single little window, which sagged half open on
hinges made of the skin of the buffalo. He pushed it back in place, and
fastened it, too, with a smaller bar, which he was lucky enough to find
lying on the floor.