were full of wrath because they had lost the trail of the two whom they
had regarded as certainly theirs, and to seek them in the vast maze of
logs and brush was like looking for one dead leaf among the millions.

The two warriors stood still for a full minute, and then moved on out of
sight. Paul drew a deep breath of relief, like a sigh, and Henry's hand
was pressed once more upon his shoulder.

"Not a sound yet, not a sound, Paul!" he whispered ever so softly. "They
will hunt here a long time."

More warriors, treading on the logs, showed that his caution was not
misplaced. They poked now and then in the water, amid the great mass of
debris, and one stood on a log so near to the two lads that they could
have reached out and touched his moccasined feet. But their covert was too
close to be suspected, and soon the man passed on.

Presently all of them were out of sight; but Henry, a true son of caution
and the wilderness, would not yet let Paul stir.

"They will come back this way," he said. "We risk nothing by waiting, and
we may save much."

Paul made no protest, but he was growing cold. The chill from the water of
the river was creeping into his veins, and he longed for the dry land and
a chance to stir about. Yet he clenched his teeth and resolved to endure.
He would not move until Henry gave the word.

He saw what a wise precaution it was, when, a half hour later, seven or
eight warriors came walking back on the logs, and thrust with sticks into