His comrade without any protest stretched himself in the leaves and soon slept soundly. Meanwhile Henry maintained vigilant watch. In order to keep his muscles elastic he rose and walked about a little at times, but he did not leave the shelter of the thick little grove that the shiftless one had called a bower. It well deserved the name, because the trees were so close and large, and the foliage was so dense that the sunlight could not enter. Indians on the hills could not possibly see the two resting there. The afternoon drew on, long and warm. Save within their shelter the sunlight blazed brilliantly. The buffaloes suddenly charged about for a little while and Henry at first thought they had been alarmed by the coming of man, but on second thought he put it down as mere playing. They were well fed, full of life, and they were venting their spirits. They ceased soon and lay down in the shade. Later in the afternoon another Indian appeared on the summit and looked for a little while into the valley, but like the others he went away. Henry had felt sure that he would. Toward night the shiftless one awoke, and they ate the last of their food. But the failure of the supply did not alarm them. This army was very small and if hunger pressed them hard there was the forest, or they might filch from the Indian camp. Such as they could dare anything, and achieve it, too. The sun set, the shadows gathered, and it would soon be time to go. The waters of the creek sang pleasantly in the ears of the shiftless one, and drawing a long breath of regret he said good-bye to the happy valley. "Nuthin' happened while we wuz here, Henry," he said, "and I knowed it wouldn't happen. Our troubles are comin' when we cross that line o' hills over thar." He pointed toward the crests. Beyond them, even in the twilight, the column of smoke from the great Indian camp was still visible, although it disappeared a few moments later, as the dusk turned into the dark. "The place in the cliff lays to the right o' that smoke," said the shiftless one, "an' jest about ez fur from here." "We ought to reach it in two hours." "Ef nothin' comes in the way." "If nothing comes in the way." They crossed the valley speedily and soon stood on one of the crests that hemmed it in. "We've had one fine day when we wuzn't thinkin' about fightin'," said the shiftless one, looking back. "A restful day," said Henry. Then the two plunged into the deep forests that lined the far slopes, and started on their journey. CHAPTER VIII THE PATH OF DANGER Both Henry and Shif'less Sol had a clear idea of direction, and they could lay a line, like a chain bearer, toward the rock fortress, where they felt sure their comrades were lying in comfortable and hidden security. But back now in the deep forest the atmosphere of peace and content that they had breathed in the happy valley was gone, instead it was surcharged with war and danger.