on top of the other. It would not
do to join them in the bushes however, as that would make their weight
so great that the boys could not lift them to the water. They
determined, therefore, to get their pushing poles first, and then to
carry the squares one by one to the river, and, arranging them there, to
embark soon after nightfall. The work of construction had occupied many
days, and it was now the 12th of November. The boys hoped to complete
their undertaking the next day and embark the next night. After their
return to the drift-pile, however, it occurred to Tom to inquire whether
or not Joe knew the way from the river to the fort, after they should
reach the end of their voyage.

"I 'clar', Mas' Tom, I never thought o' dat at all!" said Joe in
consternation. "I dunno a foot of de way, an' I dunno whar' de fort is
either."

Tom being equally ignorant, their long consultation held on the spot,
ended in an enforced abandonment of the enterprise which had occupied
their heads and hands for so long a time.

"Now dar' it is, Mas' Tom," said Joe. "Dat's always the way. Mas' Sam
never makes no blunder, 'cause he thinks it all out careful fust. Poor
Joe's head gets things all mixed up. I ain't no count anyhow, an' I jest
wish I was dead or somethin'."

Poor Joe! The disappointment was a sore one to him. He had been thinking
all along of the glory he should reap as the saviour of the little
party, and now his whole plan was found to be worthless. He slept little
that night, and once Tom heard him quietly sobbing in his corner.
Creeping over to him Tom said:

"Don't cry, Joe. You did your best anyhow, and it isn't your fault that
you don't know the way to the fort," and passing his arm around the poor
black boy's neck he gently drew his head to his shoulder, where it
rested while the two slept.

The next morning Judie was the first to wake, and she quietly waked Tom
and Joe.

"Boys, boys," she cried in a whisper, "the Indians are all around us,
there is a fight going on. Get up quick, but don't make any noise."

The little girl was right. Rifles were cracking and Indians yelling all
around their little habitation. It at once occurred to Tom that here was
hope as well as danger. If the Indians should be driven back by the
whites, he could communicate with the latter and the little garrison of
the root fortress would be rescued. At present, however, it was the
savages and not the whites who surrounded the trees and