3S6 WILD SPOETS IK THE SOUTH. 



strength. Presently they heard heavy blows as though 

 from a stick of timber, and then the sharp rap of a 

 hatchet. Laidlaw started up, and arming himself with 

 the only weapon he possessed, an old fowling-piece, pre- 

 pared to do battle when the door should no longer be a 

 security. Lou retreated up the steps toward the lantern. 

 But the door was of live oak, studded with nails, and the 

 Indians did not care to risk their hatchets on so stern a 

 material, and even the blows of the timber presently 

 ceased, the assailants finding it difficult to make their 

 battering ram work effectively from the narrow platform 

 afforded by the steps on the exterior. 



The prisoners congratulated themselves on their 

 security, and again seating themselves on the cordage, 

 renewed their council, and even jested upon the futile 

 attempts of their enemies. An hour or more had passed 

 away in -most perfect quietness, and saving the occasional 

 visits to the loop-holes of the tower, Lou had relapsed 

 into a dreamy state of half wakefulness, while her uncle, 

 with the caution of years, sat close to the door-way with 

 his duck gun across his knee, and his ear to the crack. 



" Don't you smell something strange, uncle ?" said the 

 girl, after a pause. 



" No," whispered the old man. " What like ?" 



" I thought I smelt wood burning. What is that I 

 see on the floor ?" 



Her uncle looked down on what seemed a carpet of 

 lamb's wool, white and flaky, gradually spreading itself 

 over the floor. Laidlaw leaned down his face until ho 



