“I’m hungry, too; but you aren’t going to stay in this dreadful place another minute, are you? Can’t we get away from her right now?”
“Guess that would be the wisest course, Miss,” said the man. “But I’m pretty weak, and you must be also. We couldn’t do much unless we had something to fortify ourselves with. We must be a good many miles away from civilization.”
“Yes, we’re about eight or nine miles all told from the river, and it’s getting too dark to go wandering back through the woods,” answered Garry. Then as an afterthought he asked:
“Can you handle a gun, Mr. Simmons? I’m calling you Simmons because you say that’s your name; but later on I’m going to ask a lot of questions.”
“You bet I can,” was the quick response, “and the first time I see that snaky Frenchman I’m going to handle one if it’s handy.”
“Well, there’s seemingly only one plausible entrance to this place, and that’s by the mouth of this ravine. You take the rifle and stand guard there, and I’ll get some supper. After that we can decide on the next move. From the mouth of this ravine here you could pick off a half a dozen men should they approach, and so we’ll be safe enough.”
This being settled, Garry went out, to return a few moments later with his knapsack.
“Do you know if there’s any water anywhere around here?”
“Why, the old Indian woman used to be gone only a few moments and she’d come back with some in that old tin pail there,” answered Simmons.
“The old who? But never mind; questions can wait for a while,” and Garry took the pail and went out. He found that there was a spring outside the entrance. He filled his pail and hastened back to the shack.