"And then," continued Arenberg, "we do not know how long we will have to stay there. We do not know what great battles we will have to fight, and if we live through it all it may be a year, two years, until we can come back into the North." "Not so long as that, I think," replied Breakstone. Phil noticed Arenberg’s melancholy tone, and once more he wondered what this man’s quest might be. Evidently it did not lie to the south, for to him alone the turning from the old course had caused pain. He could not keep from showing sympathy. "I feel that all of us will come back sooner or later, Mr. Arenberg," he said, "and we will go on in the way we chose first, and to success." The German put his hand affectionately on the boy’s shoulder. "There are no prophets in these days," he said, "but now and then there iss a prophecy that comes true, and it may be that our God puts it in the mouth of a boy like you, instead of that of an older man. You strengthen my weak faith, Philip." His tone was so solemn and heartfelt that the other two were silent. Surely the motive that drew Arenberg into the wilderness was a most powerful one! They could not doubt it. They walked without saying more until it was twelve when Bill Breakstone dropped his rifle from his shoulder with a great sigh of relief. "It’s just occurred to me that I haven’t slept a wink for thirty-six hours," he said, "and I’m going to make up for lost time as soon as I can." "Me, too," said Phil. "Much sleep iss meant by me, also," said Arenberg. Phil concluded to sleep in a wagon that night, and, in order to enjoy the full luxury of rest, he undressed for the first time in several days. Then he found a soft place in some bags of meal, covered himself with a blanket, and shut his eyes. He had a wonderful sense of safety and comfort. After so much hardship and danger, this was like a king’s bed, and the royal guards were outside to keep away harm. It was extraordinary how some sacks of flour and an army blanket could lull one’s senses into golden ease. He heard a few noises outside, a sentinel exchanging a word with another, the stamp of a restless horse’s hoof, and then, for the last time, the long, lonesome howl of the coyote. A minute after that he was asleep. When he awoke the next day he felt that he was moving. He heard the cracking of whips and the sound of many voices. He sprang up, lifted the edge of the wagon cover, and looked out. There was the whole train, moving along at its steady, even pace, and a yellow sun, at least four hours high, was sailing peacefully in blue heavens. Phil, ashamed of himself, hurried on his clothes and sprang out of his wagon at the rear. The first man he saw was Bill Breakstone, who was walking instead of riding. "Bill," he exclaimed indignantly, "here I’ve been sleeping all the morning, while the rest of you fellows have been up and doing!"