At length the scout seemed to proceed with more caution as the forest grew less dense. A few rods more, and like so many shadows they stood upon the banks of the Mississippi. For the first time the brothers felt how lonely was their position. Before them rolled the broad, silent waters, around them spread the wide, dark forest. Foes were upon every hand—savage, blood-thirsty, triumphant! Their friends—those who still lived—were flying from the rabble. For a moment they stood thus, realizing the utter loneliness of their situation; then the scout whispered: “You will keep shady here till I come down to you in a dug-out. If anything makes its appearance, keep the shadier. If ye hev tew fite, yew know how. These I’ll leave here”—depositing rifle, pistols, and powder-horn—“’cause I can’t use ’em. Now, be cautious as foxes and wise as weasels.” With these words he left them—left them alone in the darkness. David Barring had laid his plans with much deliberation. He had carefully noted the position of the canoes; and the disposition of the party left to guard them. The rapid steps of the scout soon brought him to the vicinity of his swarthy foes. Now it became necessary for him to pursue his way with the utmost caution. For this purpose he crawled cautiously up until he reached a small eminence, which gave a distinct view of the scene below. A single large fire had been built, and around this at least half the savages were lazily reclining, smoking or eating. The remainder were scattered carelessly about, while the light of the fire revealed many a dusky form crouching in the boats. The canoes had been drawn high up on the bank, while the larger boats had been left floating, being merely secured to the shore. There were many of the lighter craft floating also, and, so far as the keen eye of David could determine, the latter were unoccupied. Even while the scout gazed he noticed that many of the savages were seeking their blankets for sleep, and he waited for a time in the hope that a general retiring might take place. In this he was not gratified; and, as delay might be dangerous, he carefully retreated, and moved away to the accomplishment of his design. Yet the cautiousness he was forced to observe required time, and it was a long while before he reached the margin of the stream. At length he reached the uppermost of the flotilla, and beneath the deep shadow of a canoe he raised himself partially from the water, and drew a long breath of relief and pleasure. His heart gave a happy throb at his success. The next task would be to select the proper boat. The one he grasped was too large for his purpose, the second too small. He dropped down till his hand rested upon the one he desired. He ran his hand and eye over it, felt the depth and capacity, assured himself no one was within, and at once pronounced it his own. Yet David was doomed to disappointment.