The Indians immediately crossed the river with their captive and camped for the night on the other side. Hardy was fast bound, hand and foot, with buffalo thongs, and stretched in the circle which the warriors formed round the fire. Fortunately, he had eaten his evening meal, for the redskins did not offer him a scrap of theirs. They ate their fill, smoked their pipes, and then lay down to sleep. Hardy lay plunged in gloomy thoughts. He had never before been in the hands of the Indians, and it is no discredit to him that he was filled with fearful apprehensions. That he had not been killed he accepted, with reason, as an indication that his captors were reserving him for the torture. He thought with a shudder of the terrible stories of Kenton’s experience, which the scout had related in the long evenings of the previous winter. Hardy felt somewhat aggrieved that Kenton had abandoned him so readily. He was forced to confess to himself that had his friend stopped to assist him in all probability they would both have been captured. Still Hardy could not divest his mind of the idea that there was something savoring of desertion in Kenton’s flight whilst his companion lay helpless upon the ground. Somehow, the passage of the river seemed to Hardy to cut him off from hope of help and he lay for hours oppressed by forebodings. The Indians were sunk in the slumber of assured security and it was past midnight when Hardy became conscious that something was stirring near him. The movement was so slight and noiseless that he supposed it to be occasioned by some insect or reptile. Snakes were numerous in the forest and occasionally caused death. Hardy determined to investigate. This thing, whatever it was, seemed to be just behind his head. Slowly and cautiously Hardy turned over upon his stomach and raised his head. The fire had been allowed to burn low, but it still emitted a faint light. Hardy dimly discerned the form of some large creature within arm’s length of him. In a few moments it took the shape of a man. Like a flash the truth broke upon him. It was Kenton. Hardy lay still as a statue, realizing that his safety depended upon leaving himself entirely in the hands of his friend. Satisfied that the captive’s movement had not disturbed the sleepers, Kenton resumed his wriggling progress, advancing silently and by inches. After what seemed to the eager prisoner to have been an hour, Kenton was stretched alongside of him. He felt the relaxation of the thongs about his legs and knew that they had been cut, though so subtle was the touch of the keen knife that he neither heard nor felt the bonds sever. Next the arms were freed, and Kenton whispered in his ear: “Get away easy, on your belly. Take your time. I’ll get a rifle for you and join you in a few moments.”