The new danger which confronted them had driven, for the time being, everything else from their minds; but now all realized that, even though they might not be permitted to remain long in that frail refuge, they would suffer severely from thirst before the end came. "Get into the loft, one on each side, and shoot with good aim if you see a painted face over the fence!" Mark cried, as he took up one of the buckets and went swiftly toward the door. "You must not go out!" his mother said, as she barred the way. "It is certain by this time that the Abenakis are where they can have a view of the enclosure, and you will be shot down. Better that the children should suffer from thirst." "We will all soon be needing something to drink, for it's bound to be hot inside here when the palisade catches fire. One bucketful of water will save us a good deal of suffering, and I'm bound to take the chances." Then, before his mother could prevent him, Mark opened the door, running at full speed to the spring, which was not more than twenty feet distant. That the Abenakis were on the alert could be told when half a dozen shots were fired in rapid succession; but, fortunately for the defenders of the island, not a bullet took effect, owing to Mark's rapid movements. To those who were watching him in agonizing suspense from the house, it seemed as if the lad no more than wheeled about when he gained the spring, and then came toward the building in a zigzag course, well calculated to confuse the most skilful marksman. [Illustration: He reëntered the house with a bucket two-thirds full of muddy water.] He reëntered the house with a bucket two-thirds full of muddy water, and, while barring the door, once more said, in a tone of triumph: "I reckoned it might be done if a fellow used his legs well. That stuff doesn't look fit to drink; but after the mud has settled a bit it will be better than nothing. I am to blame for not cleaning the spring out when I first knew that the children had wasted the supply." "You have nothing with which to reproach yourself, Mark," his aunt said as she laid her hand affectionately on his shoulder. "You have taken the place of both your father and uncle, and there is not a man grown who could have done more, or better, work." The lad's face flushed with pleasure at this praise, but he affected to give no heed to the words as he clambered into the loft, musket in hand, calling out when he was on the timbers above: "Give us the ammunition up here, and we'll load our own guns until the enemy comes too fast." Mistress Pemberton handed him only a portion of the powder and bullets, after which she stood on the top of a table ready to take the empty weapons when the sharpshooters required her services. Mark was the first to discharge his musket, and a cry of pain followed the report, telling that the ammunition had not been wasted. "What did you see?" his mother asked, anxiously.