Cale did not take very long to rest himself before he got upon his feet again and cautiously worked his way toward his father’s shanty. The darkness had no effect upon Cale, for he took his course as straight as he could have done in the daytime. The sentries might have been removed by this time, but all the same he made his way stealthily through the bushes, as though the sentries were there and liable at any minute to jump out and make a prisoner of him. It would never do to be captured again, for the next time he would be put where it would be impossible for him to get away. But he walked right onto Dan, who had been up to the house for the same purpose; that is, he wanted to see if there was any chance for him to communicate with his father. As Cale was working his way cautiously through the bushes, going so still that he could not hear the thicket rattle behind him, he was startled out of a year’s growth by hearing a voice close at his side mutter:
“I’ll be dog-gone if there ain’t Cale!”
“D—Dan, is that you?” stammered Cale, so overjoyed that he could scarcely[scarcely] speak.
“You’re right, it’s me,” said Dan. “Where you been?”
“They had me shut up in jail,” was the answer.
“In the calaboose?”
“No, in the hotel; and they left one window there without any sentry to guard it, and I just come out.”
“Well, sir, I will say hereafter that you’ve got pluck. But come up here. I’ve got something to show you.”
Cale began feeling his way toward the place where Dan was, and in a few moments he placed his hand upon his shoulder. But there was something else that he touched there. It was a revolver.
“Why, Dan, where have you been to get that?” asked Cale, in surprise.