“Now, Jonathan Ogden, have you grown almost as unreasonable as was I the first night we took possession of Fort Jenkins! If I was hot-headed then, what may you be counted now, who would push on at the best possible speed from one place to another, regardless of the fact that, if we are to find those who are in distress, it will be in hiding, and our work must of necessity be done slowly?” Giles’s words were sufficient to show me how childishly I was behaving, and without further remark I followed him from one building to another, while he made hurried search in such places as he knew things of value had formerly been kept, until we were come to a small structure of logs which had been put up for the shelter of horses or cattle, and, as he passed it, I said, laughingly: “Since you are making so diligent a hunt, Giles March, I wonder you fail to enter this place,” and he replied in a tone of good nature: “Because we have nothing better to do just now, Jonathan Ogden, it seems to me you should be willing to spend your time uselessly, as it appears to you, for we shall come into places of danger soon enough to satisfy the most bloodthirsty.” He had no more than spoken, when from the interior of the shed came a low moan, and as we halted involuntarily, it was to hear the words: “Is Jonathan Ogden there?” Although not recognizing the voice, and having no idea in my mind that we might find a comrade there, on the instant it was borne in upon me that Elias Shendle was near at hand, and straightway I called his name. Then it was we heard distinctly: “I am here, Jonathan, which is not surprising; but how you have come, I fail to understand.” In a twinkling we entered the shed, where all was darkness save for the gray light which came through the doorway, but, peer into the gloom as we might, nothing could be seen. Giles March walked entirely around the inside of the small building, and then, clutching me by the arm, whispered: “It was the lad’s ghost, Jonathan, for there is no one here.” I confess to being terrified, for it seemed as if Giles spoke truly; but, luckily, I plucked up sufficient courage to call: “Elias! Elias! Where may you be?” “Here! Here underneath the timbers of the wall, and so pinned down that I cannot get out unaided.” Even then we had difficulty to find where the voice came from. Not until we had crept across one end, searching with our hands for any excavation wherein a human being might be hidden, did we come upon the lad, and most grievous was his plight. At the rear of the shed, where doubtless the horses had pawed away the earth, was a depression extending beneath the first tier of logs, and here my hands touched his garments. “Be as careful as you may, Jonathan,” he said, with a moan, “for I am well mangled by the bullets of the savages.”