heir brief dinner over, the two boys sat down on the floor, and from the
loopholes on either side watched the forest. To Paul the whole air and
atmosphere of the cabin had now become intolerably oppressive. At first it
had been such a strong, snug place of refuge that he rejoiced, but at last
his sensitive spirit was weighed down by the long delay, the gloom, and
the silence. The sight of their limited rations brought to him all the
future--the vigilant enemy on guard, the last little piece of food gone,
then slow starvation, or a rush on the savage bullets and sure death. As
usual, his uncommon imagination was depicting everything in vivid colors,
far in advance.

But he said nothing, nor did Henry. They had already exhausted all
subjects for talk, and they waited--Henry with real, and Paul with assumed
patience. Fully two hours passed in silence, but after that time it was
naturally Paul who spoke first.

"Henry," he said in a tone that indicated unbelief in his own words,
"don't you think that they must have got tired and gone away?"

"No, they are surely in the forest about us; but since they won't go,
Paul, you and I must leave to-night."

"What do you mean?" Paul's words expressed the greatest surprise.

Henry stood up, and figure, face, and words alike showed the greatest
decision.

"Paul," he said, "our last piece of venison will soon be gone, and the
Shawnees, I think, will stay, expecting to starve us out, which they can
do; but the night shows all the signs of being very dark, and you and I
must slip through their lines some way or other. Are you ready to try it?"

It was like a signal to Paul, those words, "Are you ready to try it?" He
was ready to try anything now, as a release from the cabin, and a fine
flare of color mounted to his cheeks as he replied:

"I'll follow you anywhere, Henry."

Henry said nothing more; Paul's reply was sufficient; but he resumed his
position at the loophole, and attentively watched the heavens. Somber
clouds were rolling up from the southwest and the air was growing cooler,
but heavy with damp. Already the sun, so bright and pitiless in the
morning, was obscured, and mists and vapors hung over the forest. He
judged that it would be a dark night, with flurries of mist and rain, just
suited to his purpose, and he felt a sensation of relief.

"Paul," he said, after a while, "I think we'd better take the two captured
rifles with us again. If we come face to face with 'em