Both girls were asleep when he returned. He sat down outside the enclosure and leaned his shoulders against it. His gun was by his side, his knife in his belt. He should have had a hatchet, too; that useful article no one scarcely travelled without, but in the excitement he had not thought of everything. Once he replenished the fire; then the fuel gave out and he fell asleep.
Nothing molested them. The singing of some birds in the thicket roused him. He hurried to the river; all was tranquil, silent, with no enemy in sight. Then he glanced down the long and arid space, where even grass grew sparsely in the sandy soil that held no moisture. They must start early so as to escape the mid-day heat.
Wawataysee had risen and smoothed her ruffled plumes.
“It is so beautiful!” she said, with heartfelt pleasure. “And, oh, to be free from horrid fears! I slept so tranquilly. Did you have any rest?”
“I forgot everything,” and he laughed with a glad sound. “I was not a very good watcher, perhaps, but I think any unusual noise would have startled me.”
“You are so good! What would we have done without you?” raising her beautiful, grateful eyes.
He flushed warmly. “We cannot have much variety for breakfast,” with a gleam of amusement. “We may fare better to-night.”
He lighted the small fire again, collecting the charred embers.
“Is it far to the river—and safe?”
“Not much of a run,” he answered. “The shore is shallow. I had a reviving bath.”