It was a trail so wide and deep that a blind man could have followed it. The panic evidently had been terrible. The warriors had thrown away blankets, and in some cases weapons. Henry found a fine hunting knife, with which he replaced the one he had used to pin down his fuse, and Silent Tom found a fine green blanket which he added to his own. They followed to the Ohio River, and some distance beyond. Then, satisfied that this expedition was routed utterly, they came back into Kentucky. "I'd like to go to that little house of ours inside the cliff," said Paul. "So would I," said Long Jim. "It's the snuggest home we've ever found inside the wilderness." "An' Indian proof, ez we've proved," said the shiftless one. "Good fur rest," said Silent Tom. "Then we go there," said Henry. They reached the valley the next day and climbed up into the cleft which had been a home and a fortress for them. It was sweet and clean, full of fresh, pure air, and the tiny rill was trickling away merrily. Nothing had been disturbed. "Now ain't this fine?" said Long Jim, coming outside and looking over the hills. "Paul, I've heard you talk about palaces, them that the old Greeks an' Romans had, an' them that they hev now in Europe, but I know that thar has never been one among 'em ez snug an' safe an' cozy ez this." "At least," said the shiftless one, "I don't believe any o' 'em ever had a water supply like ourn, clean, cool, an' unfailin'." Silent Tom took something from his knapsack. "I'm goin' to git some fish in that creek farther down," he said. "You'd better hev your fire ready. Out here on the shelf is a good place." Long Jim, happy in the task that he liked, hurried away in search of dead wood. The others carried dried leaves into the hollow and made places for their beds. Silent Tom caught plenty of good fish, to which they added venison and buffalo steaks, and, sitting on the shelf they ate and were at peace. The glow of triumph was still in their hearts. Alone, they had achieved a great deed for the sake of humanity. They had been through their Iliad, and like the heroes of antiquity, they took their well-earned rest. The foliage was now in its deepest flush of green. Henry, as he looked over a vast expanse of wilderness, saw nothing but green, green, the unbroken green that he loved. A bird in a tree over their heads began to pour forth a volume of clear, triumphant song, and the five looked upon it as a voice meant for them. "It's the last touch," said Paul. "And the victory is complete," said Henry.