The guard was doubled that night and the small force was ready for instant action. Sentinels patrolled the river bank and stood at the gates; while in the blockhouses the cannon were trained through the port-holes, and men kept vigilant watch. At three o'clock the terrified bleating of the sheep aroused every one but the children. A sentinel fired his musket and retreated to the Fort, then a heavy gun rumbled ominously. Once again the parade-ground filled with people. "What is it? What is it?" they cried. "Indians," Captain Franklin explained. "They went after the horses, but didn't find them, so they stabbed the sheep and turned them loose. The sentry saw some of them in the pasture, and fired, then ran to the Fort. A tomahawk just missed him--it grazed his head and struck a waggon wheel. The cannon must have frightened them away." So it proved, for the next morning a trail of blood led from the pasture toward the woods. The sheep lay dead on the plains around the Fort, but search parties found nothing, though they scoured the woods thoroughly for miles around. Chandonnais appeared at the usual time for work, but refused to say where he had been. When he was asked unpleasant questions, he always pretended that he did not understand, and from this position neither man nor woman could swerve him a hair's breadth. Lieutenant Howard, with four men, went up the river to Lee's and buried the two victims of the night before. "It wasn't good to look at," he said to Ronald, when he returned. "I know," answered the Ensign; "I found out that much last night. I didn't dare strike a light, but I felt----" He turned his face away and swallowed hard. "Don't tell the women," he concluded. "I won't," said Howard, "and I've made the boys promise not to talk. There's no use of making things worse than they are." Major sat at Ronald's feet, listening intelligently, and thumping the ground vigorously with his bushy tail. "Poor old boy," said his new master, affectionately; "it was pretty bad, wasn't it? He's a nice dog, isn't he, Howard?" "Washing would help him." "He's going to have his Spring bath the first warm day. How do you suppose dogs know whom they belong to? Major knows he's mine, and nobody could get him away from me." Beatrice came out of Captain Franklin's and took a careful survey of the Fort. It was a gloomy place at best, but the disorder of the night made it worse. "Good-morning," said the Lieutenant, as he passed her on his way home. "Good-morning," returned the girl, including Ronald in the salutation. Then she whistled to the dog, but he paid no attention to the call other than to lean heavily against his master. "He's mine," laughed Ronald, meeting her, "and you can't have him. How do you like living in the Fort?" "I don't like it," she answered disdainfully. "It's about as cheerful as a tomb. I'm glad we're going home." Ronald lifted his brows inquiringly. "Who's going home?"