“Hurrah! I know where we are now!” cried Dave.
“So do I, and I know where we can find a pretty good shelter,” added Henry.
He referred to what had once been an Indian village, long before the French and English had come to that territory. Here, among the ruins, was located an old council-house, of logs and bark, with a sort of fireplace at one end.
“At the old Indian village?”
“Yes.”
They hurried on, for it was now growing night. Both had their guns over their backs, but presently Henry swung his weapon around to the front.
“Maybe we’ll be able to pick up something for supper and breakfast,” he observed.
It did not take long to reach the deserted village. Nothing was standing but the old council-house, and that was next to being a wreck. As they stepped over the threshold they saw something hop away through an open doorway on the other side. Quickly Henry blazed away.
“A rabbit, and a fat one too!” he cried, holding up the game. “That is better than nothing.”
They stirred around and soon found a nest of the animals and killed two more. Then they put down their guns and went out to find some firewood. It was cold work, and they were half frozen by the time they had a blaze started. They piled on several big sticks of wood and soon began to warm up.