The discussion we had there was a long one, owing to the fact that both Giles March and myself were eager to be off, in the poor hope that there was yet time to be of service to Daniel Hinchman, while Master Bartlett and Stephen Morley insisted that we remain within our place of refuge six full days before making a move, the old man saying: “It is only reasonable to suppose the savages are running riot through the valley, and our people have been slain or driven out to the last man, otherwise I am minded that Daniel Hinchman would not have been taken, for he went with his eyes open, knowing all the dangers, therefore surely could have shunned them.” “Yet we _can’t_ sit here idle, Master Bartlett!” I cried, passionately. “It may be we are needed there, and it were cowardly to remain in hiding when we are able to lend aid to those who are so sorely pressed.” “How would you aid them, lad, if you crossed the river only to find yourselves in the hands of the savages? It would be as great an act of wicked folly for us to venture out now, knowing that John Butler’s wolves are sweeping everything before them, as it was for those hot-heads whom you and Stephen Morley strove against at Forty Fort. Content yourself, however hard it may be, with idleness until such time comes as you can be of real service, and I venture to say that, by saving your lives now, you will be of benefit to our neighbors and our friends--if any there be yet alive.” Well, it is not needed I should say that the counsels of the older men prevailed, for we lads would have been foolish indeed had we set ourselves up as being more wise in such a case, where they had had all too bitter an experience. Yet when we laid down that night there was in my heart a feeling of shame that I remained there comfortable and apparently content, while there was so much of suffering and agony near at hand which I might relieve. Esther Hinchman had not spoken above a dozen words during all that long, weary day, and although knowing full well she believed, and with good reason, that her brother was a prisoner in the hands of the savages, or had already been killed by them, we did not venture words of sympathy lest it should be seen by her that we feared the worst. Then another day came, and we who were despairing and sorrowing became electrified, as it were, by hearing the cheery voice of Daniel Hinchman, as he hailed us from the thicket a short distance from the cave. “He has come back!” Esther cried, in a fever of joy. “He whom I believed had been killed has come back!” Then we who were burning to embrace the lad, who had seemingly come from out the jaws of death, held back that she might have the first privilege of greeting her brother whom she had mourned. Daniel Hinchman’s story was a long one, and when he came to an end of it, we had almost as good an idea of what had occurred in the valley since our flight as if we ourselves had taken part in all that was done.