“It is in this way, as Giles March and I have figured it: We two can carry Elias Shendle to the cave, returning here within five hours, if so be we travel in the light, and day is now close at hand. Why is it not an act of prudence to take the poor lad to our refuge, and with him these four who have just been rescued?” “It is what should be done,” Master Bartlett said decidedly, and much to my surprise, for I had fancied he might take stand against the proposal. “If we are to accomplish anything more, we cannot be hampered by such helpless ones as these,” and he pointed toward the children. “We will all go back with you a mile, perhaps, and then, returning, so cover the trail that the savages may not be able to follow it.” For the first time since we had found that place of safety on the mountainside, did I realize how simple a matter it might be for those human bloodhounds to track us out, for we had journeyed back and forth without giving heed to our footsteps. It sounds strange that a lad living in such times, and accustomed to a life of danger, himself trailing man and beast when the necessity arose, should have forgotten entirely how easy it would be for the enemy to come upon that refuge which we had, in our heedlessness, believed no foe could find. However, that wasn’t the time to consider such a matter. Our helpless ones were there, and must remain for a certain number of days at all events. We could only hope that they might be able to defend themselves, should need arise. At present, it was for us to pursue the plans we had formed and already begun. As soon as Master Bartlett had fallen in so completely with the proposition made by me, Giles March and I set about making a litter, which consisted of two saplings bound together by vines, interwoven so closely as to form a rude bed on which the sufferer could lie. Because in this work all assisted, we were ready in less than ten minutes from the time of the rescue to set out, and then the grayish hue of the eastern sky was telling of the day to come. Giles March and I stripped off our hunting-shirts, laying them across the saplings in order to render the rude litter a trifle more comfortable to the poor lad, and when we lifted him upon this rough couch he opened his eyes, looking at us in a manner which told he understood what we were doing. “It is to carry you back among the mountains, dear lad,” I said to him as I laid both our muskets by his side. “There will be found those who can care for you better than we, and you will be safe from the fiends who have worked so much of misery upon us.” “Death is very near to me, Jonathan Ogden,” he whispered, “and it seems better you should strive to aid those who have more of life remaining in them.”