^iV^ UNSEEN ENEMY. 
51 
ridge, about two miles southwest of Camp Prospect. 
They had probably been startled, Joe intimated, by the 
report of Rob's gun. 
The boys by this time had been acquainted with the 
situation, and the faces of the company were clouded. 
" Well," said Mr. Button, at last, " we won't try to 
cross a bridge before we come to it. The Indians will not 
dare to attack us to-night, while we are all in camp, nor 
are they fond of roaming the woods after dark. We'll 
take turns keeping guard, however, and while one 
watches the rest shall sleep." 
It was still so early in the evening that no thoughts of 
sleep could be entertained for an hour or two. Mr. But- 
ton was determined that his boys should not worry away 
their chances for a night's rest. He therefore proposed 
telling stories until bedtime. 
That is," said he, with a good-natured slap on Joe's 
broad shoulders, " I don't mean to do all the talking 
myself. You can begin, old fellow." 
The Indian's dark eyes lighted up. Taciturn as he 
was on ordinary occasions, he was renowned among his 
comrades as a recounter of marvellous tales and hair's- 
breadth escapes. Joe was a good story-teller, and he 
knew it. 
As full of airs as a young lady who is asked to play, 
and " has left her music at home," Joe coughed and 
smoked, and pretended indifference, but, after the proper 
amount of urging, raised himself upon elbow instead of 
