speed and skill. All the lead, newly brought, had
been molded into bullets, and the powder, save that in their horns,
was carried in bags. This, with the blankets and portions of food,
constituted most of their packs. Some furs and skins they left to those
who might come, and then they slipped from the warm hollow, which had
furnished such a grateful shelter to them.

"It's just as well," said Henry, "that we should let 'em think we're
still in there. Then they may waste a day or two in approaching, so hide
your footprints."

The earth was soft from the rain, but the stony outcrop ran a long
distance, and they walked on it cautiously so far as it went, after
which they continued on the fallen trunks and brush, with which the
forest had been littered by the winds of countless years. They were
able, without once touching foot to ground, to reach a brook, into which
they stepped, following its course at least two miles. When they emerged
at last they sat down on stones and let the water run from their
moccasins and leggings.

"I don't like getting wet, this way," said Henry, "but there was no
choice. At least, we know we've come a great distance and have left no
trail. There'll be no chance to surprise us now. How long would you say
it is till day, Sol?"

"'Bout two hours," replied the shiftless one, "an' I 'spose we might ez
well stay here a while. We're south o' the hollow an' Wyatt an' his band
are purty shore to come out o' the north. The woods are mighty wet, but
the day is goin' to be without rain, an' a good sun will dry things
fast. What we want is to git a new home fur a day or two, in some deep
thicket."

They began to search and presently found a dense tangle, with several
large trees growing near the center of it, the trunk of one of them
hollowed out by time. In the opening they put their bags of powder, part
of their bullets and other supplies, and then, wrapped in their
blankets, sat down in the brush before it.

"Now, Henry," said Shif'less Sol, "it's shore that we ain't goin' to be
besieged, though our empty holler may be, an' that bein' the case, an'
the trouble bein' passed fur the moment, you an' Jim, who watched most
o' the night, go to sleep, an' Tom an' Paul too might take up thar naps
whar they left 'em off. I'll do the watchin', an' I'll take a kind o'
pride in doin' it all by myself."

The others made no protest, but, leaning their backs against the tree
trunks, soon fell asleep, while th