Nothing occurred seriously to alarm our two friends through the night. Once or twice Moffat heard the distant bay of the wolf and the piercing scream of the panther, and several times, as he looked up, he could see the fiery eyeballs of some wild beast glaring through the bushes above him. Then apparently after wondering at the meaning of the unusual scene, they withdrew, and their retreating steps could be heard, while the continued footfalls of other beasts were audible until daylight. But the fire was a life-guard. No denizen of the forest dare cross the blazing ring, no matter how slight it was; and when the faint streaks of morning illumined the east, the last hopeful loiterer took his departure and disappeared in the wood. Kingman slept sweetly and heavily—so heavily, in fact, that it was broad day when he opened his eyes and gazed wondering about him. “How do you feel, George?” asked Moffat. “Oh!—is that you, Abe? I didn’t know you.” “How many more times are you going to ask whether I am what I am? But that ain’t answering my question—how do you feel?” “Like a new man, as I am,” replied Kingman, springing triumphantly to his feet. Not a trace of last night’s fever remained. The restless, bloodshot eyes were now calm and sparkling; the red, throbbing face was cool and glowing; and the shivering, exhausted frame was now firm and graceful. Moffat had taken him just at the proper moment, and the fever had been broken and the equilibrium of the system restored. “Wal, you do feel right, eh? Glad to hear it. Hungry?” “I’m slightly of that opinion. I feel, just at this moment as though I could eat a Shawnee, tomahawk rifle and all.” CHAPTER V. THRILLING ADVENTURES. Moffat took his departure in quest of game, and soon returned with a wild duck, which he had managed to approach unobserved, and kill with a well-aimed stone, there being too much danger in firing his gun. The bird was speedily cooked and eaten, with the keenest of appetites upon the part of both. “Now,” said the ranger, “as we ain’t exactly sartin of our neighbors, we’ll seperate fur awhile. I’ll go to the left and you to the right, and we’ll jine again, by that point of bank, which you remember is about a quarter of a mile down the river.” There was some risk in this, although, with proper prudence, there was no need of either running into danger. Accordingly they separated, and each taking the route designated by the scout, and moving with the stealthy tread of panthers seeking their prey.