Boone directed the sled to be abandoned, and, obedient to his will, the party entered a small covert in the immediate vicinity of the spot where their guide said he had emerged from the grove on his return to meet the whites. Here the party long remained esconced, silent and listening, and expecting every moment to see the foe. At length Boone grew impatient, and concluding they would encamp that night under the spreading tree, (the locality of which he was familiar with,) he resolved to advance and surprise them. He was strengthened in this determination by the repeated and painful surmises of Roughgrove respecting Mary’s piteous condition. Glenn, and the rest, with perhaps one or two exceptions, likewise seemed disposed to make an instantaneous termination of the torturing suspense respecting the fate of the poor girl. Boone and Sneak led the way. The party were compelled to proceed with the utmost caution. Sometimes they were forced to crawl many paces on their hands and knees under the pendent snow-covered bushes. They drew near the spreading tree. A fire was burning under it, the flickering rays of which could be occasionally seen glimmering through the branches. A stick was heard to break a little distance on one side, and Boone and Sneak sank down on the snow, and whispered to the rest to follow their example. It was done without a repetition of the order. Joe was the hindmost of all, but after lying a few minutes in silence, he crept softly forward, trembling all the while. When he reached the side of Boone, the aged woodman did not chide him, but simply pointed his finger towards a small decayed log a few paces distant. Joe looked but a moment, and then pulling his hat over his eyes, laid down flat on his face, in silence and submission. An Indian was seated on the log, and very composedly cutting off the dry bark with his tomahawk. Once or twice he paused and remained a moment in a listening attitude. But probably thinking the sounds he heard (if he heard any) proceeded from some comrade like himself in quest of fuel, he continued to cut away, until an armful was obtained, and then very deliberately arose and walked with an almost noiseless step to the fire, which was not more than fifty yards distant. Boone rose softly and whispered the rest to follow. He was promptly obeyed by all except Joe. “Come, sir! prepare your musket to fire,” said Boone, stooping down to Joe, who still remained apparently frozen to the snow-crust. “Oh! I’m so sick!” replied Joe.