"I suspect it is," said the trapper. "Suppose we take a little sleep, and then start afresh. But, then, if we do this, what shall we do for light? No sticks are to be gathered on these pebbles, and ours will not burn an hour longer. If it is possible for you to stand it, Jane, we had better move on. I can help you, for I am too much used to travelling to tire."
"Perhaps, we can find more of the burning water, if we keep a look out," said the chief.
But on they went; yet no tripod met their eye, until they feared Jane would be unable to proceed, and worst of all, two of their torches gave out, and the rest would not last twenty minutes longer.
"The braves and maiden, will await us here," said the chief, "while my brother and I bring relief. Come," said he, to Howe, "we are the strongest, let them rest, and when we have found light we will return."
"Perhaps it is best," said the trapper. "Sit here, we will leave the venison with you, that we need not be encumbered. Sit down on these pebbles, they are dry and much easier than the fire of the cannibal. Keep courage, and sleep if you can," so saying, he and the chief, took the torches to light them on the way, and soon disappeared in the distance. Sidney seated himself on the pebbles beside where Jane had sank quite exhausted, and drawing her to him rested her head in his arms, where she soon fell asleep. Edward was also soon in the land of dreams, while Sidney watched over them with the care of a mother. Here his whole life passed before him. His orphanage, the care of Mr. and Mrs. Duncan, the tenderness they had bestowed upon him, his boyhood, and dawning manhood, his capture by the Indians, and providential escape, up to the present moment, and finally his present position. Long did the children sleep, and long did he watch without a ray of light, in a darkness more intense than anything he had ever imagined surrounding him. No sound was heard, not even the faintest breath, save the soft respiration of the sleepers. The time seemed to him endless; and the oppressive silence had become more painful than can be expressed, when, oh! joy, the distant sound of a human voice was heard, which every second grew louder and louder, and then a bright glittering light was seen in the distance approaching. His uncle and the chief had returned, bearing new torches, the light of which awoke the sleepers, who were much refreshed by their repose.
"Come," said Howe, "we must make our way some three miles farther, where we can find not only daylight, but plenty of wood and water, and as I am getting ravenous, we must hurry on."
"Then you have found an outlet!" cried the children. "Oh, uncle, we may yet see home again."
"Certainly, you not only may, but probably will. We have undoubtedly gone right through the mountain, and as the cannibals will never think we have effected this, all we have to do is, to be wary, so as to escape from roving parties, and we shall be safe enough."
They were soon at the outlet, which they found was concealed by a stone, like the inlet, and the only way the trapper and chief had discovered it, was by the daylight that came peeping through its crevices; for night had already gone and the day again was nearly spent. They thought it prudent to build their fire for cooking a little way in the cavern to prevent being discovered, and after satisfying their hunger with broiled venison, for which their long fast had sharpened their appetites, they put out their fire, and as it began to grow dark, fastened the outlet of the cavern, and laid down to rest. Their only bed now was the earth, having left the pebbles, full a mile behind them. Sweet and calm were their slumbers, for they felt secure and free.