Dan or Poke Stover think as they rested
in the dark passageway just beyond the reach of the water from the
river. Both were cold and hungry and almost exhausted, yet there was
nothing at hand to eat, and rest seemed out of the question.

"We must try to escape, as soon as it grows dark," said the old
frontiersman, and all through that long, weary day they waited and
watched for the light to disappear up the passageway. At last it was
gone, and they swam again to the river, making as little noise as
possible.

At the opening were a number of bushes, and, as they emerged among
these, they heard the footsteps of a Mexican sentinel not a dozen feet
off. At a distance was the camp, with several fires burning brightly.

Suddenly Stover caught Dan by the arm, and pointed to a tree
overhanging the stream. Under the tree was a long canoe with the paddle
lying at the bottom.

"We'll set the canoe adrift, and float down the stream with it,"
whispered Stover, so softly that Dan could scarcely hear him. "It's our
one chance."

They waited until the sentinel had turned to walk to the other end of
his station, then slipped down and swam over to the canoe. It was drawn
partly up over some marsh-grass, and they easily dislodged it. Then
they turned it down the stream and kept along with it as it floated,
their heads up, on the side opposite to the Mexican camp.

They expected that the Mexican sentinel would discover the floating
canoe, but such was not the fact until they were twenty yards from the
mouth of the passageway. Then the Mexican turned and stared stupidly.

"The canoe has drifted off," he murmured to himself, in Spanish. "Well,
it is not mine, so why should I care? Let the owner take care of his
property." And he resumed his walk.

As soon as they were out of the range of the light from the camp-fires,
Poke Stover crawled into the canoe and took up the paddle.

"Stay where you are, Dan," he said. "They needn't have but one of us to
shoot at," and while Dan clung fast to the rear of the craft, Stover
paddled with all the vigour at his command, which was considerable,
considering his condition.

In ten minutes they were out of rifle-range, and safe, and then the
frontiersman sent the craft ashore, and he and Dan climbed to the river
bank. "Thank God, we are out of that!" exclaimed Stover, fervidly, and
Dan uttered a hearty Amen.

"I think the fust thing we want to do is to git sumthin' to eat,"
remarked Stover, a