Perhaps towards morning both of the boys slept more soundly than usual, for they were tired, and sleep is more apt to overpower a watcher just before day comes on apace. Roger was the first to get up. The earliest peep of dawn could be seen in the far east, through the trees, as he started to revive the little fire in the cavity, so that they might have an early breakfast, and move on. He found himself hoping that this day might see them once more looking out across the great river they had followed so far. Having managed to get the blaze started, Roger turned to speak to his companion, to find that Dick was already on his feet, and looking around. "Well, it happened just as I thought it would," Dick was saying. "What do you mean?" demanded his companion, wonderingly. "Look around, and tell me if you see our visitors," the other went on. And Roger, turning his eyes in the quarter where the squaw and her charge had been lying, was astonished and dismayed to find that they had disappeared. CHAPTER XXI THE PICTURE WRITING ON THE BARK "WHY, they're gone!" the backwoods boy exclaimed, as he stared hard at the spot where he had supposed their visitors were still lying. The blanket was there, carefully folded over a stick of wood, so as to give the impression at first glance that some one might be underneath, though Roger now saw that this could not be so. "Yes, that's a fact," added Dick, just as if he meant to say that any one with eyes could see it. "But, if you thought this would happen, why didn't we do something?" asked Roger. Dick shrugged his shoulders. "Why should we try to stop the old squaw if she thought it best to leave us in this way? She is naturally suspicious of all whites. And perhaps, for all we know, she might have thought we meant to take that little girl away to our people. So, just like an Indian, she watched her chance, and while we slept crept out of camp. Let them go, Roger; even if we wanted to, we couldn't spare time to look for them now. We have to find that river to-day, you know." "Yes, I think you're right, Dick," admitted the other, slowly, as he grasped the idea. "And anyhow, she didn't take my blanket. I ought to be thankful for that, I suppose. Indians are born thieves, they say. But see how she wrapped it about this piece of wood, just to make me think one of them might be lying under the folds. What's that lying on top of the blanket, Dick?" "Looks to me like a piece of fresh bark," replied the other, as he stepped forward. "Oh! it may be a message!" cried Roger, his eyes sparkling.