Every moment he expected to hear a yell of alarm from the Indian who had been watching their movements. As each second passed, Roger was certain that the cry was bound to break forth with the coming of the next. His feet dragged like lead, because he believed the attempt to escape was bound to be useless, and that they could not possibly get away. He counted the passage of time by the throbs of his heart. Once a twig flew up and struck Roger on the knee. It was a blow as light as the falling of a leaf, yet to the boy it seemed as though a heavy hand had been suddenly laid upon him. But, strangely enough, nothing happened! No yell rang out; nor was there an uprising of those dusky forms that lay about the smoldering fire. Foot by foot the ground was passed over, and in a brief time they might hope to gain the shelter of the friendly bushes back of which Mayhew, it was hoped, would be found. Still Roger dared not believe the escape would be effected without an explosion of some sort. He knew that the pioneers classed all Indians with the cat tribe in regard to craftiness and cruelty. How many times had he, as a small lad, watched their pet cat catch a mouse, and then play with the doomed animal, letting it go just for the pleasure of pouncing on it afresh. The conviction that pressed so heavily on his heart now was that this brave was simply waiting until the escaping prisoners had gained a certain point, when he would give the cry that would send the red inmates of the camp after them in hot haste. But now they were at the fringe of bushes, and Dick had even commenced creeping around one end of the break, afraid to enter lest they cause a rustling that would imperil their safety. Roger summoned all his nerve and looked back. To his amazement he saw that the watchful brave still had his head partly raised, and was, to all appearances, looking after them. It was a mystery in the boy's mind that ranked with those strange things they had continued to discover ever since invading this Land of Wonders. That the warrior saw them making their escape, and still refrained from giving the alarm, was a fact beyond his comprehension. Dick was moving faster now, though still taking pains not to make any sound that could be possibly avoided. Then Roger caught the low, tremulous note of a bird, hardly more than a chirp. Was that Mayhew trying to let them know he was close by? Roger hoped so with all his heart. He could barely see Dick's bulk just ahead of him, and it was on it that he fastened his gaze. If the pilot suddenly came to a pause, Roger meant to be in a condition to instantly follow suit. Whispering caught his ear. Surely Dick was not talking to himself, but must have come in contact with the creeping guide. All seemed going well, and, so far, there had been no alarm from the camp.