"Ugh! you mean in the direction of our first camp, don't you, Dick? Then that lone hunter must have sighted us, even if he did pretend not to. How wise you were to change camps. Seventeen, you say; what could two boys do against that many braves? What next, Dick? I'm ready to do anything you say. Must we push on again, do you think?" "Yes, because when they find that the birds have flown they will surely look this way for us. By that time we ought to be miles off." They set about making the move without more delay, though not hurrying in such a manner as to invite discovery through neglect of precautions. The poor horses no doubt thought it pretty hard that they should be made to start out afresh without even a nap; but they were patient beasts and had no way of expressing their opinions, or showing signs of mutiny at being made to work overtime. Once again did the boys lead the animals, for the darkness was too intense to trust to keeping their eyes so far away from the ground, when there was so much necessity for their discovering the presence of logs and pitfalls before the horses stumbled. Roger, if left to himself, would possibly have climbed into his saddle, and trusted to the instinct of his animal to detect obstacles in the way, but Dick was too cautious for that. So they plodded on. It was weary work, but the knowledge that a deadly peril lurked near inspired the boys to endure the fatigue bravely. "You seem to be veering off to the side, Dick; we're getting farther and farther away from that ridge, back of which lies the river. What is that for?" asked Roger, after a while. "In the first place," replied the other, always willing to explain, "when the Indians find out that we've slipped away, they are likely to scatter, and search the woods for miles, believing that they may get trace of us in that way. Then, Roger, I'm too tired to think of keeping up this walk long. I want to get in the saddle, and ride, which we can do if once we find the open country." "Good for you, Dick; I'll be glad myself when we can mount, and coax the horses to a gait faster than a walk," Roger declared. Several times Dick had paused. He seemed to be listening, and it was not difficult for his companion to guess why. "Do you expect to hear them give tongue when they find the nest empty?" he asked. "Perhaps," replied his cousin. "They will be bitterly disappointed, that goes without saying; and when they strike a light, and start to following our tracks, as I'm sure they will do, we will probably hear them. Listen, Roger. What did I tell you?" The night wind chanced to be coming from a point almost directly back of them, so that sounds were carried on its breath. First came a long quavering cry that seemed to be filled with bitter disappointment. Then followed a series of quick, angry yelps, that made Roger think of a pack of fighting dogs.