“We have covered more than half the distance,” said the old frontiersman. “But I don’t know if we’ll be able to cover the balance o’ the way afore nightfall.”
“Well, we can try,” answered Dave, and once more they set off, at a brisk pace, for the nooning had rested them greatly.
But now the trail was very rough, and more than once they had to consider how to get around a certain spot. It took Dave’s wind to climb up some of the slippery rocks; and once, when the pull was extra hard, he called on Barringford to halt.
“Got—got to—to get m-m—my wind!” he gasped.
“We had better call it a day,” announced the old hunter.
It was four o’clock, and already growing dark. A nook was found where some bushes grew between the rocks. The bushes were cut down and piled on top of the opening, and soon they had a fairly comfortable “corner,” as Dave called it, with a roaring fire to cheer them as they rested. More rabbits had been brought low, and Barringford fixed up supper in his own particular style. If the cooking was not of the best, neither of the travelers grumbled, for fresh air and hunger, real hunger, are the best sauces in the world.
In such a lonely spot it was not considered necessary to remain on guard, and after fixing the fire so it would burn for a long while, they turned in, and slept “like rocks” until daybreak.
A loud whistle from Barringford made Dave leap from his couch of pine boughs. The old frontiersman had breakfast ready, and this was quickly eaten, and soon they were on the way once more. Dave was a bit stiff, but did not complain.
“We’ll make it by noon,” said Barringford, and it lacked a good hour of that time when they came in sight of the post, flying its colors of the King as bravely as did Fort Oswego. A guard stopped them, but matters were quickly explained, and they were conducted to the captain in charge.
“I don’t know the prisoners,” said Captain Wilbur, “although I have heard about Hildegard. You can look them over.” And he called an aid.