"And if you should get through the lines with 'em?" asked Hastings.
"That's all we want; once clear of the varmints, and with the better part of the night afore us, the road to the block-house will be so clear that sun-up will find us all there."
Kenton did not like this plan, and said so.
"It won't work," he asserted, with quiet emphasis. "You and me, Dan'l, might get through the lines, 'cause we've both done it this very night, but we couldn't take a woman or gal with us."
Boone held unlimited faith in the woodcraft of his friend, and meant to leave the decision of the question with him. Kenton condemned the scheme from the first; therefore it was abandoned.
"I've nothing more to offer," said the elder pioneer, disappointed by the emphatic veto of the other; "there seems but one thing left for us—to stay here and fight it out with the varmints to-morrow. We can drop some of 'em, and mebbe The Panther will be among 'em, but there won't be one of us left to rej'ice over his going under."
Kenton held his peace for several minutes. His companions knew he was thinking intently and that something, desperate though it might be, would come from it. Neither Boone nor Hastings could offer the first suggestion; they could only wait for their athletic companion to counsel or to act.
Without a word, Kenton rose to his feet.
The others did the same, even though their erect position offered a tempting target to any prowling enemies who might succeed in entering the inclosure.
"Dan'l, take my gun," said the younger ranger, impressively; "if I never come back, keep it in remembrance of the many times you and Sime Kenton have been on the trail together."