a kind o' mind readin'," said Shif'less Sol, "but I
think it's right. Lead on, Henry. Whar A-killus Ware will go, the
dauntless soul o' Hector Hyde ain't afeard to foller."

They searched for some time among the trees, and then Henry pointed to a
great elm. A section of bark nearly a foot square had been cut from it.
The bark was lying on the ground, but the inner lining had been clipped
from it and was gone.

"I jedge that this wuz done about a day ago," said Shif'less Sol. "Now,
what in thunder did Paul do it fur?"

"Suppose you ask him," said Henry, who had gone on ahead, but who had
now turned back and rejoined his comrades.

Astonished, they looked at him.

"He's sitting in a little valley over there, hard at work," said Henry.
"Come and see, but don't make any noise. It would be a pity to disturb
him."

Henry endeavored to speak lightly, but he felt an immense relief. They
followed him silently and looked cautiously into a pleasant little
glade. There they beheld Paul, alive, and to all appearances strong and
well.

But Paul was absorbed in some great task. He sat upon the ground. His
rifle lay on the grass beside him. A sheet of white was supported upon
his knees, and his face was bent over it, while he drew lines there with
the point of his hunting knife. So intensely interested was he, and so
deeply concentrated was his mind, that he did not look up at all.

"It's the inner bark of the elm tree, and he's drawing something on it,"
said Henry.

Jim Hart stirred. His knee struck a little stick that broke with a snap.
Paul heard it, and instantly he threw down the bark, snatched up his
rifle, and began to investigate.

"He'll come up here spyin'," whispered Shif'less Sol. "While he's
lookin', let's steal his bark away from him an' see what's on it."

"We'll do it," said Henry, and while Paul, rifle in hand, ascended the
slope to see what had caused the noise, they deftly slipped away,
descending to the other side of the glade.

When Paul entered the bushes, Shif'less Sol ran out, picked up the roll
of bark, and returned silently with it to his comrades, who lay in a
dense thicket. Filled with curiosity, all looked at it promptly.

"It's a map," whispered Henry, "and he's trying to locate himself in
that way. See, this long line is the Ohio, here is the route of our own
flight, this place is where he thinks he left us, and this line, I
suppose, shows his own course after he dropped out. This deep mar