I was in the lead, as Paul had insisted should be the case, and my thoughts were occupied with speculations concerning Simon Kenton rather than the work which lay before me, when a noise as of some one snoring arrested my footsteps. I had come to a halt within a dozen paces of the savages, and could see, where the underbrush was thinnest, the form of a feather-bedecked brute leaning against a tree evidently on guard. A dozen steps more and we had been directly upon them. Turning quickly, I clasped my hand over Paul's mouth, lest he should speak, although the lad had shown himself to be a better frontiersman than I, and this movement of mine told him of the danger so near at hand. During twenty seconds, perhaps, we two stood peering into the gloom, able only to learn that there could not be less than twenty Indians here encamped, and then silently as shadows, for our lives depended upon the movement, we turned about, retracing our steps until thirty yards or more lay between us and the sleeping murderers. Then I whispered in my comrade's ear: "We must make a detour here lest those brutes come to know of our whereabouts, so keep well in mind the direction of the river." "Do you count on going forward without learning if Simon Kenton may be among the savages?" he asked, and a flood of shame came over me as I thus realized that my own danger had caused me to forget the scout at a time when his possible fate should have been uppermost in mind. Of a verity Paul Sampson ought to have been the leader, and I his humble follower. So abased was I by his thoughtfulness and my own stupidity, that I would have suggested he reconnoiter the camp, but an instant later, realizing that such dangerous work should be performed by me if for no other reason than that I might atone for my past folly, I whispered: "Stay here, while I go forward." "Why should I not follow? If it so be Kenton is not there, we may continue on, and thus save the time you would spend in returning to find me." Again he was right, and again was I stupid. Well, we did as he suggested, and no lad on the frontier could have done better work than this same Paul, who was so lately come from the east. Skirting around the sleeping scoundrels so silently that the quick-eared watchers failed to take alarm, we got such view of the brutes as could be had in the darkness, and when half an hour or more was spent in the work, I could say of a truth that Simon Kenton had not been made prisoner by this band. It was a great relief of mind, and yet only served to increase my shame, for now did I begin to believe that the scout had taken away the canoe, going up the river, or down, as might seem to him best, regardless of us two who had committed such a fault as was ours. The gray light was filtering through the foliage when we were clear of the foe and could with some degree of safety continue the journey.