It lacked but an hour of sunset when Daniel Hinchman announced that he was ready to set off on the scout, explaining that it was his purpose to start thus early in order that he might find the canoe before night had fully shut in, and when no one made protest at his going, for we all believed it necessary to learn of the situation of affairs, he said, quietly: “I beg of you not to feel alarmed concerning me during eight and forty hours, for it is my purpose to be absent that length of time. If I am not returned nearabout sunrise on the third day, then may you know I have come to grief.” “It is not well that you take overly many chances, lad,” Master Bartlett said quickly. “Make your way to Forty Fort, and if you find there the enemy in possession, as doubtless you will, give it a wide berth. In some of the stockades should those who are yet alive be gathered, and once you have good assurance of coming upon a remnant of our people, don’t make any effort at learning the whereabouts of the enemy, for we know full well they will be roaming up and down the valley, slaying and burning until those exceeding wise men in the Congress come to understand that something should be done for our relief.” Well, Daniel Hinchman went out as he planned, and during the eight and forty hours which he had set as the time of his absence, we worked at making our underground dwelling more habitable, being able to add to it much which, in the eyes of people not in such sore distress, would have seemed rude and uncouth, but to us were improvements and even luxuries. Then came the time when Daniel Hinchman should return, and in our anxiety for his safety, those of us who were able to walk ventured a mile or more from the cave toward the river to hear the news which he might bring as speedily as possible; but he came not. Only at noon did we give up all hope of him, and then, while inside the cave, we spoke cheeringly lest his sister should be overcome with grief, saying that doubtless he had found more of our friends alive than we expected, or was waiting to bring us a bigger budget of good tidings than could be gathered in a short while. Yet even as we spoke our hearts were like lead, and I dared not hold converse with my comrades concerning his fate, for it seemed all too certain he had but added another to the long list of victims which had been sacrificed to satisfy John Butler’s love of cruelty. That evening the two older men, with Giles March and me, went up the mountainside where we could talk without fear of being overheard, and discussed seriously whether it were well to send out another scout, for it seemed absolutely necessary we should know what was going on in the valley.