"He's a brute!" exclaimed Fred. "I wish I was big enough to fight him."
"I fancy if Johnson ever got at him in a fair fight Callack would wish he had never tried any of his tricks," observed Jerry.
Anxious hours passed. The captives, looking from the tent, saw Callack and several Indians grouped about the supplies they had taken from the sleds of the prisoners. They were appropriating to their own use such of the articles as they fancied, while Callack, unwilling to believe the gold was not there, was minutely examining every robe and garment, hoping to find part of the treasure concealed in the folds, or sewed up in them.
It was getting lighter with the approach of morning, though the days were successively getting shorter and shorter as the winter season advanced.
At last Callack became convinced that there was no trace of the gold to be found in the baggage of his prisoners. He gave up the search, and, calling to some of the Indians, ordered them to replenish the campfires, which had died down in the excitement over the attempted escape.
"I hope he thinks to send us some breakfast," remarked Fred, as from the tent the captives saw the Indians preparing a repast.
"He's not very likely to, unless he thinks that by getting us in good humor we will tell him where the gold is," said Mr. Baxter.
"Will you tell him?"
"Never! And I hope you boys will remain firm, no matter what he does."
"I'll not," declared Fred. The search for the gold had been too hard, and the possession of it meant too much to him to make him willing, even under stress of dire threats, to tell where it was hidden.