"When the darkness fell over the camp," Fred related, "they simply lay down to sleep, after they had tied me to a tree. The Indian who attended to the work, must have liked me, for he took pains that the sinews were not strung too tightly. So what could I do? While they were sleeping, I cleared my hands, cut the bands, and slipped away from them. And look what I took along?"
He held up a large scalping knife.
"Where did you get that?" Matthew exclaimed in astonishment. "That knife will be very valuable to us."
"The scout was sleeping," Fred said, "though he was supposed to watch, and I crept up to him and removed it for safety's sake."
"You are quite a hero," Matthew praised him; "I could never be so brave as that."
"There was little bravery," Fred said contemptuously; "the Indians are not careful; they just began the war; later they will take more care of their prisoners. Now they still despise the whites."
"But what shall we do now?" Matthew asked. "We cannot stay here all night."
"That is true," Fred answered; "we must be going; but first let us thank the Lord for His goodness. Without Him we can do nothing. It is He who hitherto has helped us, and may He bring Agnes back to us."
After a brief pause in which both thanked the Lord, they departed, Fred carrying the musket, while Matthew held on to the knife.
Silently they crept up the high bank of the river through the deep brushwood, until they could see the Indian camp. But though they looked hard, the Indians were gone.