It's Friday.
Ma came to her quickly and said in her gentle way to ask her to be quiet, and told her that she mustn't frighten Carrie. Laura clung to Ma, and Ma was wearing her dress. The fire was covered with ashes and the house was dark, but Ma had not gone to bed. Moonlight came through the window. The shutter was open, and Pa stood in the dark by the window, looking out. He had his gun. Out in the night the drums were beating and the Indians were wildly yelling. Then that terrible sound came again. Laura felt as if she were falling; she couldn't hold on to anything; there was nothing solid anywhere. It seemed a long time before she could see or think or speak. She screamed what it was, what it was. She asked Pa what it was. She was shaking all over and she felt sick in her middle. She heard the drums pounding and the wild yipping yells and she felt Ma holding her safe. Pa told Laura that it was the Indian warcry. Ma made a soft sound, and he told her that they might as well know. He explained to Laura that that was the Indian way of talking about war. The Indians were only talking about it, and dancing around their fires. Mary and Laura must not be afraid, because Pa was there, and Jack was there, and soldiers were at Fort Gibson and Fort Dodge. He asked Mary and Laura not to be wild. Laura gasped and said no. But she was horribly afraid. Mary couldn't say anything; she lay shivering under the covers. Then Carrie began to cry, so Ma carried her to the rocking-chair and gently rocked her. Laura crept out of bed and huddled against Ma's knee. And Mary, left all alone, crept after her and huddled close, too. Pa stayed by the window, watching.
