"Then there's a poor chance for supper, I take it," grumbled Roger, who, having a splendid appetite, did not fancy going hungry, or chewing on a tough piece of pemmican, or jerked venison. "You often complain of things being dull, Roger; but I am sure you must admit there's no lack of excitement for us now. We are prisoners in the hands of the hostile Indians; there is a storm threatening; and now comes a chance that, before morning, the camp may be attacked by these Shoshones who are out looking for plunder and scalps." "If they should come, Dick, what do you suppose would happen to us?" Roger felt rather anxious, for he had heard it said that among Indians it was the custom to kill their prisoners rather than have them rescued, or taken away by a rival tribe. "If I can carry out my plans," Dick assured him, "I don't mean to wait until the camp is attacked. I'd like to be miles on the way back to the river before that comes to pass, if it really does." "There, I think we are going to pull up at last," ventured Roger, as he saw the leading Indians halt, and begin to look around as though to make sure that no enemy lurked in the neighboring woods. It was a well-chosen spot for a concealed camp. A shallow depression, very like a large bowl, offered them a chance to build a small fire without any risk of the blaze being seen; and, so far as smoke was concerned, those dusky sons of the forest could be counted on to select such wood that there would not be sent up the slightest column of vapor to betray them. Roger, still watching, soon uttered a low cry of satisfaction. "See, Dick, they do mean to have a little cooking-fire!" he exclaimed; "and that means we may get some supper after all. So far they have shown us no particular ill will, and treated us half-way decently." "That comes of being taken for the sons of the Great White Father at Washington," remarked Dick, with a chuckle that told that his spirits had not been crushed even though the future looked so dark and forbidding. "It is a high honor that has come to us, Roger, to be reckoned President Jefferson's own boys!" Roger, however, was more interested in what was going on about the little fire than anything else. He observed just how the expert braves formed a small pyramid, and then used the flint and steel to start a tiny blaze. "Yes, one of them is unwrapping that bundle he carries, Dick," the boy went on to say, "and, just as I expected, it contains some freshly killed venison. Oh! it's going to be all right, and we are due for some supper, I reckon." But Dick was thinking of other things than eating just then. He surveyed with a critical eye the lowering sky, and wondered if a storm was about to break upon them before morning came. FOOTNOTE: [3] See "The Pioneer Boys on the Great Lakes." CHAPTER XVI THE ESCAPE