That it might be a race for life toward the end, seemed certain, as we could not travel without leaving a trail that even an Indian boy might follow.
I waited impatiently for the daylight, and it came so slowly that I was minded to wake Lucille, and start ere the dawn. But I feared to get on the wrong path, and so I waited, counting the minutes until the first flush in the east.
No sooner had it tinged the sky than I roused Simon, who had fallen asleep again, and bade him get Kit in readiness. I entered the bower and kissed Lucille, whereat she awoke with a start.
“Are we home, Edward?” she asked.
“Almost,” I said, cheerfully.
I dared light no fire, for fear of the tale the smoke would tell, so we ate the remainder of our bacon cold, with the dry biscuit, washing the poor meal down with water from a near-by brook. Then observing all the caution we could we took up our journey again.
There seemed to be a better path now, though it was far from easy traveling. When we had occasion to speak it was in whispers. I watched with jealous eyes every bush and tree, starting at each sound, while Lucille on Kit’s back was pale with fear.
The morning had turned to noon. Our only meal was water, drunk from oak leaves, that I fashioned to form a cup. The spirits I saved, for there was no telling when I could get more. Most anxiously did we strain our eyes for the sight of a house. Yet we went fully two miles after our halt at noon, ere we found one. It was Simon who first saw it. He pointed between the trees and said:
“Look.”
“What is it?” asked Lucille.