Cato sat up, clutching at the rifle that had slipped from his grasp. Stiffly he rose to his feet. For a moment he hesitated, then he walked over to Jack and shook him gently. “It’s time to git up, Mars’ Jack,” he said. Jack sat up. “Why! Cato! You scoundrel!” he exclaimed. “It’s morning. You’ve let me sleep all night.” Cato scratched his head hesitatingly. Then an expression of conscious virtue dawned upon his face. “Yessah! Mars’ Jack,” he said. “You was sleepin’ so nice I just couldn’t bear to wake you.” “Humph! Well! Everything seems to be all right. It’s turned out well, Cato, but you mustn’t do it again. You haven’t heard any suspicious noises or anything, have you?” The negro shook his head. “No, sah,” he declared. “Everything’s been just as peaceful as if we was back on the Tallapoosa. You c’n trust Cato to keep watch; dat you can, sah.” CHAPTER X THE forest was breaking. The arcades of spell-bound woods that for three days had hemmed the road were losing their continuity, giving place to glades choked with underbrush and dappled with sunbeams. The chill of the swamp land was vanishing and the landscape was momently sweetening with the fragrance of annis grass and of fern. Now and again golden-green branches showed against a blue, cloud-flecked sky. Jack and Alagwa, the latter mounted on Cato’s horse, were riding behind the wagon, chatting together and looking forward, not altogether eagerly, to the change in surroundings which they knew must be at hand. The strain of the first night had for the moment exhausted the girl’s capacity to hate. She had touched a high point and had sunk back. When she saw that Jack and Cato were awake, reaction had overcome her and she had sunk back on her couch in the wagon, mind and heart both blank. When, later, she had forced herself to crawl from the wagon to join the others in a hasty breakfast, she had done so listlessly and silently. Still later, though she had gathered strength and vigor with the mounting day, she had found herself incapable of thinking of either the past or the future. Like any other wild creature that had been driven beyond its strength, she could do nothing but exist. When the thought of the future and of her mission rose in her mind she deliberately forced it back. She had refused to countenance an attack upon the wagon when it was at her mercy; never again would she connive at its destruction. She had taken early occasion to warn Cato that his dereliction from duty had not passed unobserved, and she had won his eternal gratitude, to say nothing of his vows never to sleep on watch again, by promising not to tell Jack. Apart from this, then, was nothing for her to do until she reached Fort Wayne. Until then she could live only for the moment. For the moment also she had laid aside her distrust of Jack. His heart might be bad, but his words were pleasant, and she would enjoy them while she could.