At this point a shallow ravine sloped into the creek from the south. Its bed was half-filled with logs and brush, and its sides were covered with a dense growth of tall bushes. On reaching this natural barrier to his further progress, Douglas stopped and hurriedly cast a glance behind him. He was several hundred yards from the nearest group of savages. What was to hinder him from wriggling through the tangled growth that lined both sides of the ravine, gaining the open forest on the other side, and making his escape? The Indians, busy with their own affairs, would not notice his absence for some time—hours, perhaps. True, he had no arms with which to protect himself from wild men and wild beasts, or with which to procure game; but he could hide during the daytime, travel at night, and live upon bark and roots until he reached a settlement. He resolved to make the venture. Hope rose high in his breast. He whirled to take a final look at the camp. As he did so, his heart sank into his moccasins. Unperceived by him, three warriors had crept along under the shelter of the creek bank, and now stood a few yards from him, closely eyeing his movements and grinning broadly. Mentally cursing his ill-luck, Ross turned to retrace his steps toward camp. At that moment Duke rubbed against his leg and whined softly. “What is it, old fellow?” the master asked, stooping and patting the dog’s head. Again the hound whined plaintively, and rolled his great eyes toward the ravine a feet away. “Something in there, eh?” Duke wagged his tail and capered about. Ross’s heart beat tumultuously. “It must be a friend, then,” he murmured tremulously. “If it were an enemy—man or beast—he’d growl. Can it be possible that Bright Wing or Joe——” “Hist!” was the faint whisper that came to the young man’s ears and interrupted his cogitations. Duke gave a short, sharp yelp of joy. “Hist!” said the voice again in the softest whispered tone. “I see you, Ross Douglas—an’ I see the redskins watchin’ you. Me an’ Bright Wing’s hid in the brush here. Don’t look ’round, fer God’s sake! Do you hear an’ understand me?” Douglas slyly nodded. “Well,” continued Farley’s voice, “listen to what I’m goin’ to say. We’ve been hidin’ ’round the camp fer three ’r four days. We’ve come to rescue you—but we can’t do it this time; you’re too close watched. Go back to camp an’ never let on you’ve heerd anything. We hain’t had a bite to eat fer twenty-four hours. We’ve got to move away from here an’ hunt somethin’. To-morrer evenin’ at dusk, stray out here ag’in. Bring a gun an’ ammynition with you, if you can. Come anyhow. We’ll git you out o’ y’r scrape ’r die a-tryin’—we will, by Kizziar! Now go—an’ tie up the dog. He might come nosin’ ’round an’ spile everything. You hear all I say?” Again Ross almost imperceptibly nodded. “All right. Be off—the Injins is watchin’ you mighty close an’ suspicious-like.”