The frail and delicate watcher had failed in the important duty she had assumed at the very instant when her warning notes were most needed, and the fugitives were then apparently at the mercy of the slave-hunters. Dan slept, Cyd slept; both wearied out with watching and hard work, all unconscious that their gentle, willing sentinel had failed them, and that the fiends they dreaded were within pistol shot of their retreat. They slept, and were silent. Lily, senseless upon the floor of the standing room, pale and motionless as a marble statue chiselled in the form of angelic beauty, was silent as the grave. Not a breath of air stirred the forest leaves, not a ripple agitated the waters. It was perfect stillness in the camp. There was no sound to disturb the solemn quiet of that temple of nature, save the ribald speech of the slave-hunters, mingled with fiendish curses. There was none to keep watch and ward in the camp of the fugitives--none but He who watches over the innocent when they sleep and when they wake. He was there keeping ceaseless vigil by the senseless maiden, and over the sleeping boys. "He doeth all things well;" and the very silence that reigned in the camp saved the fugitives from the keen scrutiny of the enemy. The hunters remained in the vicinity for a few moments, and finding no clew to the fugitives, turned their boat, and went back to the bayou. They proceeded up the stream a few miles farther, and then, abandoning the search in this direction, returned to the lake. Still Dan slept, and Cyd slept, and Lily still lay silent in marble stillness upon the floor at the door of the cabin. CHAPTER XX. PREPARING FOR THE VOYAGE. The deep silence which pervaded the camp was first broken by Dan. He woke slowly from his profound slumbers, looked about him for a moment, then glanced at Cyd, who, contrary to his usual custom, did not snore. Every thing was still; his ear was not saluted with the sharp crack of a slave-hunter's rifle, and no curses disturbed the solemn silence of the place. Every thing seemed to be secure, and he wondered that the enemy had not yet appeared. He was tempted to turn over and go to sleep, for he still felt very weary, and his repose had not restored his wonted vigor. But he concluded to go on deck, as every prudent skipper should, before he finished his nap. Rising leisurely from his bunk, he made his way to the standing room where he was almost paralyzed at the discovery of Lily lying apparently dead upon the floor. Dan was prompt and decided in action; and taking the insensible girl in his arms, he placed her upon the cushioned seat. Tremulous with emotion, he bent over her to ascertain whether his worst fears were to be realized. Her heart beat; there was life, and there was hope. "Cyd! Cyd!" shouted he, in tones which would have roused a sleepier boy than his fellow-fugitive, and which, had it been heard a quarter of an hour sooner, would have brought the slave-hunters upon them.