the Indians themselves had not determined what was to
be done. Part seemed to be for sparing them, part for killing; still
their cheerfulness was the same. This apparent fearlessness deceived the
Indians; they supposed the prisoners were well pleased with their
condition, and did not watch them closely. On the seventh night of their
march, the savages, as usual, made their camp, and all laid down to
sleep. About midnight, Boone touched Stewart, and waked him: now or never
was their time. They rose, groped their way to the rifles, and stole from
the camp. They hardly dared to look behind them; every sound startled
them, even the snapping of the twigs under their feet. Fortunately, it
was dark, even if the Indians pursued. They wandered all that night and
the whole of the next day, when at last, without meeting a man, they
reached their own camp. But what was their surprise on finding the camp
plundered, and not one of their companions to be seen? What had become of
them? Perhaps they were prisoners; possibly they were murdered; or it
might be that they had started back for North Carolina. They were safe,
but where were their comrades? Wearied in body, and tormented with fears
for their friends, they commenced preparing for the night. A sound was
now heard. They seized their rifles, and stood ready, expecting the
Indians. Two men were seen indistinctly approaching. "Who comes there?"
cried Boone. "White men and friends," was the answer. Boone knew the
voice. In an instant more, his brother Squire Boone, with another man,
entered the cabin. These two men had set out from Carolina for the
purpose of reaching them, and had for days been wandering in search of
their camp. It was a joyous meeting--the more joyous, because unexpected.
Big tears were again in Daniel Boone's eyes when he heard, from his
brother, that his wife and children were well.

CHAPTER III.

When Squire Boone had told his brother all the news of home, it became
his turn to be a listener, while Daniel talked to him of all that
happened since they parted. After telling him of the beautiful country,
and their happy freedom as they wandered through it for six months, then
came the story of his captivity and escape. That escape was but just now
made, and with a full heart he dwelt upon this part of his story. It
would not have been strange if Squire had now felt alarmed; but his
disposition was much like his brother's: he loved the woods, and was
afraid