His clothing was examined, his boots, hat, belt, the stocks of his pistols and gun; but the important papers could not be found.
CHAPTER III.
THE SPIKED CANNON.
“We’ll put him in the tent, and make further search in the morning,” Ira said at length.
The three scouts lifted their prisoner, and, carrying him into the tent, laid him gently on the fir boughs.
“I would loosen your bonds if it were safe to do so, Master Preston,” Ira said; “but as it is, you will have to make yourself as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.”
“I have been in a worse fix,” he replied shortly.
“You may both lie down and get what sleep you can,” the lad then said to his comrades.
“You are the one to sleep; we’ll take turns watching the prisoner,” Late said stoutly.
“No,” their leader answered decisively. “You will have a long journey to-morrow and need the rest, while I can sleep after returning to the encampment.”
They yielded reluctantly, and were soon slumbering soundly. Ten minutes passed, and the courier was so quiet the lone watchman thought he too must be asleep; but suddenly he tried to raise himself, saying: