"No, we won't. They're asleep. Listen? I know they're asleep. Hurry up."
Jacob was only twelve. Lewis was his bigger brother, whom he admired. So he got up, staring—took long breath, and he holding to Lewis's hand, into the moonlit timber they scooted with never a backward look.
"We can follow our own trail back to the river," said Lewis. "It'll be easy."
"Ouch!" And Jacob began to limp.
Lewis stopped.
"You wait here. I'll get some moccasins."
"No, Lewis! They'll catch you."
"No, they won't. We've got to have moccasins."
Lewis scudded for the camp. In a minute he had found moccasins and had brought them. That was better. Now they might travel faster. But Lewis halted again.
"Wait. I'm going to get father a gun!"