The young officer had thought out his plans beforehand, and with a warning gesture he stepped into the spring at the point where it became a narrow rivulet, and brawled its course swiftly across the lower corner of the clearing. The others followed, and the murmur of the waters drowned what slight noise was unavoidable. Now came the critical moment. With anxious hearts the fugitives waded slowly down the stream, crouching low beneath the fringe of tall grass that concealed, on both sides, the sleeping forms of Tories and Indians. On and on they went amid unbroken silence, and at last the dense foliage of the wood closed over them like an arch. They had safely passed the limits of the camp. They waded twenty yards further, and then stepped on land. Godfrey handed his musket to Barnabas. "You know the country," he whispered. "Lead as you think best." "We'll make a wide detour back of the fort," Barnabas replied, "an' then come around to the river at the lower end of the valley." On a brisk trot they started toward the northwest, and as they hurried along the forest trails that the old woodsman chose, Godfrey briefly told what all were anxious to know. "I got awake a bit ago," he said, "and heard Glass instructing four of the worst Indians to tomahawk you people just before daylight. They were to kill me at the same time, and pretend it was done by mistake. That was to be Glass's revenge for what I said to-night. I remained perfectly still, pretending to be asleep, and when Glass and the Indians went over to the cabin, I decided all at once what to do. I told the sentry I had been ordered to relieve him, and he handed over his musket without a word. He was asleep in two minutes, and my way was clear." Barnabas and McNicol warmly thanked the lad, and Nathan impulsively clasped his hand. "I hope we are friends again, Godfrey," he said. "I will never forget what you did to-night." "I will do more, if I ever get the chance," Godfrey answered. "But I can't explain now--wait until we are certain of freedom." By this time the fugitives were a mile from the enemy's camp, and before they had gone twenty yards further a faint outcry behind them told them that their escape was discovered. All now depended on speed, for it was certain that the Indians, by the aid of torches, would follow the trail with the unerring keenness of blood-hounds. Barnabas led the little party at a steady pace, taking them several miles to the rear of the fort before he turned parallel with the river. Now they headed for the lower end of the valley, and for nearly three hours, while they traversed the lonely and gloomy forest, they heard no sound but the chirp of night-birds and the distant cries of prowling wild animals. "I can't keep this up much longer," panted Nathan. "The Indians may be close behind, but for my part I believe they've lost the trail."