Hardy stealthily crawled away from the camp until he had gained a distance of about fifty feet, and then he rose and awaited Kenton. The scout soon rejoined him carrying the arms and ammunition of one of the savages. His own rifle had been left near by, and after regaining it they set out for the river. The scouts had no difficulty in reaching the bank of the stream, but some hours were consumed in the search for the two canoes in which Hardy’s recent friends had crossed. At length they were found, and the fugitives embarked in one, cutting the other loose and turning it into the current. The first signs of dawn were appearing in the sky when Kenton took up the paddles and began leisurely to propel the craft upstream. For half an hour or so the friends sat in silence, each occupied with his thoughts. Kenton was turning over in his mind a plan of future action. Hardy, since the daring rescue by Kenton, had been troubled with qualms of conscience. He felt ashamed at the doubts he had entertained of his friend’s loyalty. He longed to ease his mind, but hardly knew how to go about it. At length he said: “I am afraid that I did you an injustice last night, Kenton. You see, when you ran off, leaving me lying upon the ground, I thought that you might--that is, it seemed to me----” “I see,” said Kenton, with a laugh. “You thought I had given you the long leg, eh? I don’t wonder. I’d have stayed by you, Hardy, if it could have done any good. But if I had, we’d both be going to a hair-raising party now.” “I understand,” replied Hardy, “and I understood then. I only want you to forgive me for having had the least doubt about it.” “That’s all right, young ’un!” cried Kenton heartily, extending his hand. “Say no more about it. I think we might make shore here.” To Hardy’s surprise, Kenton shot the canoe into the north bank, that is, the one from which they had embarked. Noting the puzzled expression on his companion’s face, Kenton said: “Why, you haven’t forgotten that we are bound for Chillicothe, have you, Hardy? I reckon we’ve shaken your last night’s friends and now we’ll go about our own business. But we must hide the canoe where we are likely to find it when we come back. I swam over this morning, but we may be in a greater hurry than I was when we cross going home.” They found what appeared to be a safe hiding place for the canoe and carefully marked the spot. Then they turned their faces towards old Chillicothe, which lay somewhat more than two days’ journey to the north. They were now not only in the Indian country during the season of greatest travel, but passing through a section of it that was cut up by trails running in every direction. It behooved them, therefore, to proceed with the utmost caution. They dared not light a fire, and were forced to subsist upon some water-soaked parched corn which Kenton had in his wallet and the edible berries that they occasionally found in the forest.