Late in the afternoon, a scout from Boonesborough made his appearance, and was admitted. He reported that there was a pretty general uprising among the savages, and Colonel Boone was daily expecting an attack. Kenton was at one of the weaker settlements, as there were alarming signs of war along the whole frontier, and there was no certainty who would suffer first. As the night slowly settled over the wilderness, the pioneers collected in their homes to spend an hour or so with their families. The evening meal was scantily partaken of, at the close of which all knelt and sent up a fervent supplication for protection by the Great Being above. Then, after a few more words, the females and children retired, and the men rose and sallied forth to the block-houses. Kingman, after leaving his mother, proceeded to the house of Stuart. Stuart himself was gone, but Irene was still watching for him. “Ah! up yet?” he laughed. “You ought to be abed.” “I have no desire to sleep, and do not intend to, until the danger is over.” “Why, what help do you suppose you can offer?” “Perhaps none, but when our friends are in such danger, little sleep, it seems, should come to the others.” “I trust we shall escape without much trouble,” said Kingman, hopefully. “There may be no attack, after all is said and done.” “Oh, I hope not! There is war all the time. It is dreadful. I pray it may soon end.” “Keep up a good heart, Irene. So, good by, now.” “Good by, dear; may heaven protect you.” He hastily embraced her, and then turned and joined the rest. The men congregated, as said, in the different block-houses, which were so built as to protect the four sides of the town, while several of their scouts entered the space between the two picket rows to guard against any artifice or stratagem. The Indians were probably aware that the settlers had made preparations, for they deferred the attack until a late hour. Although the settlers’ families retired to rest, there were few indeed who closed their eyes upon that night. Irene stood in the same spot she had bidden adieu to Kingman, waiting and watching with a beating heart the men as they passed to and fro, or stood motionless at their posts. The sky was full of tumultuously flying clouds, which obscured the light of the moon, and sometimes threw an inky darkness over the town and forest. Then, again, it would shine out full and clear, and the dark forms of the watchers and scouts could be seen as they passed out from the block-houses and communicated with each other. Then, as a straggling cloud passed over the face of the moon, its shadows glided noiselessly and swiftly over the village, like a great phantom, shrouding everything in its ghastly light. Gradually the night wore on. Irene and her mother stood side by side, and when the moonlight streamed down upon the village, they could see that in every cabin door there were others standing the same as themselves.