"But how are we going to support life on the way?" stammered Baldwin Ferrie.
Jack pointed to the belt Humpy Jull had brought along. His gun and his hunting-knife hung from it. This, with Linda's jewel-case, was the sum total of what they had saved from the wreck.
"We have the cannon," Jack said with a laugh. "About forty cartridges, and the seventeen matches. We'll make out."
An hour later they started to climb the steep, high hill to the prairie. They took it very slowly on account of Sir Bryson, who was still white and shaky. But he complained no more. Jack's example had had its effect on all, and a more cheerful feeling pervaded the party. They were at least dry and warm again. The men still regarded Jack's high spirits a little askance. It did not fit their settled convictions about him; they resented it slightly while forced to admire.
"Where are we heading for?" Vassall asked.
"There's a trail down this side of the river as well as on the other," Jack said. "I've never been over it, but if we strike straight back we must hit it."
"How will we get back across the river?"
"Nothing easier," said Jack. "When we arrive opposite the fort, if it's daylight, we'll wave a shirt; if it's night, we'll build a fire, and they'll send a canoe over for us."
Once having accomplished the difficult hill it was easy enough going over the prairie. Taking his bearings from the sun, Jack led them in a line at right angles back from the river. Linda walked beside him. Vassall and Ferrie helped support Sir Bryson. Half an hour's walking brought them to a trail, as Jack had promised, and their hearts rose. It was a less well-beaten track than the main route on the north side of the river, but easy enough to follow.
Jack called a halt. "Here we are," he said. "The first good water that I know of is Red Willow Creek. I've camped on the river at the mouth of it. It will be about seven miles. Are you good for it?"