I was overcome by the possibility. If what Paul declared with such assurance was true, then were we two lads left alone upon the banks of the river amid a savage foe, to make our way back to Corn Island, or, what would be a far more difficult and dangerous task, to continue on to the mouth of the Tennessee River. By going back we should proclaim the fact of my folly, and prove me to be a lad whose ignorance was near to crime; while to advance seemed little less than the sacrifice of our own lives. Somewhat of this I said to Paul, and he replied like the true-hearted, brave lad he was: "It is better to acknowledge one's ignorance than try to purchase secrecy at the expense of life. If we have made a mistake, why not admit it?" I, who had plumed myself upon the fact that Simon Kenton was willing to take me with him as a scout, felt that almost anything was better than returning, and yet I knew it was my duty to push on up the stream to warn those who were descending, because we were not yet positive that the scout had taken away the boat. Kenton might be a prisoner in the hands of the savages, and in such case it was of the utmost importance Major Clarke and his volunteers should know the facts. Not without a severe mental struggle did I decide to smother my pride and follow Paul's advice; but once having settled upon a course of action, I was eager to pursue it. Prudence dictated that we should wait until daybreak; but I believe of a verity it would have made me wild to remain in that spot inactive, thinking only of my folly, and now, as when we left the canoe, I pressed on with but one idea in mind; but, fortunately, yet retaining so much of common sense as to understand that we must be on the alert to gain such information as was possible during the journey. The further we continued on up the river, the more firmly did I become convinced that our last halting place was at the spot where the canoe had been left, for we saw no other such familiar indentation on the shore, and now the important question in my mind was as to whether Simon Kenton had embarked in the dugout, or if the Indians had carried her away. This last proposition appeared to me so improbable that I hardly gave it a place in my thoughts. On, on, we went, traveling at the rate of no more than two miles an hour, because of being forced to move silently and at the same time carrying out the plan of learning if there might be enemies in the vicinity, and it was nearabout daybreak when, as I believed, we had been advancing for no less than three hours, our progress was checked as we came suddenly upon a party of savages, the greater number of whom were asleep. It was accident, rather than wisdom, which prevented our tumbling directly in upon them, and thereby insuring our own captivity or death.