bones. He swung his arms as he walked, as much as the rifles would allow,
and nearly every muscle in his frame felt the touch of vigorous exercise.
His clothing dried rapidly.

Two hours and three hours passed, and they heard no more the cries of the
warriors calling to each other. Silence again hung over the wilderness.
Rabbits sprang up from the thickets. A deer, frightened by the sound of
the boys' footsteps, held up his head, listened a moment, and then fled
away among the trees. Henry took his presence as a sign that no other
human being had passed that way in the last hour.

The sun sank, the twilight came and died, and darkness clothed the
wilderness. Then Henry stopped.

"Paul," he said, "I've got some venison in my knapsack, but you and I
ought to have a fire. While our clothes are drying outside they are still
wet inside and we can't afford to have a chill, or be so stiff that we
can't run. You know we may have another run or two yet."

"But do we dare make a fire?" asked Paul.

"I think so. I can hide the blaze, and the night is so dark that the smoke
won't show."

He plunged deeper into the thickets, and came to a rocky place, full of
gullies and cavelike hollows. It was so dark that Paul could see only his
dim form ahead. Presently their course led downward, and Henry stopped in
one of the sheltered depressions.

"Now we'll make our fire," he said.