safe to use firearms?" asked Christopher Burley.

"I don't think there is any risk," I answered. "There are no Indian
villages within many miles, and as for our old enemies, they are
probably searching for us in the neighborhood of the trail to Fort
York."

To this Carteret and some of the other men assented. They were all eager
to go with me.

"I wish you would stay behind, Denzil," Flora said wistfully.

"But I alone know the exact spot where the deer drink," I answered.
"Have no fear; I will return safely."

"At least let me sit up until you come," she pleaded.

"I am afraid I must say no," I replied. "You need sleep and rest too
badly. And here, between these walls, you will be as safe as if you were
in Fort Charter."

Flora yielded without further words, but there was an appealing, anxious
look in her eyes that I remembered afterward. Twilight had turned to
darkness, and no time was lost in preparing for the start. I chose to
accompany me Carteret and Captain Rudstone; and I fancied the latter was
ill pleased at his selection though he spoke otherwise. We donned coats
and caps, strapped our snowshoes on our feet, and looked to the loading
and priming of our muskets.

As a matter of precaution, I decided to set a watch outside the fort
while we were gone--and indeed through the night--and Malcolm Cameron
volunteered for the service. On pretense of showing Flora something I
found an opportunity to snatch a kiss from her lips and to whisper a few
foolish words into her ear. A little room to one side had been reserved
for her, and a comfortable bed made of blankets. The rest were to sleep
around the fireplace.

The moon was shining from a starry sky and the air was still and cold
when the three of us started away. We waved our hands to Cameron, who
was at the stockade gates, and plunged eastward into the forest. I led
off, and Captain Rudstone and Carteret followed in single file.

At the first I was troubled by a vague premonition of coming disaster,
which, in default of sound reason, I set down to Flora's ill-concealed
solicitude for my safety. But when we had gone a mile or so this feeling
wore off, and I enjoyed the exhilaration of striding on snowshoes over
the frozen crust, through the silent solitudes of the wilderness, by
rock and hill and moonlit glade. Never had the spell of the Great Lone
Land thrilled me more deeply. Watchful and alert, we glided on from tree
to tree, our shadows trailing behind