"What is the matter?" Matthew asked, as he looked at Fred with deep concern in his eyes. "I see no Indians."
"Lie low," Fred admonished him, "and follow me."
The boys crept on, but the Indians were gone, not a trace could be found of them.
"Perhaps it is a trap," Matthew commented; "we must be careful." Deeper and deeper they pierced the woods. Dawn came, and day light, and the boys were still walking, but not a trace of the Indians could be seen. They had disappeared completely.
"Well, if they don't bother us," Fred remarked, "we shall not bother them. We are angels of peace, and don't want war. So if they leave us alone, we are satisfied."
"I should say so," Matthew assented. "No war for me, if I can help it."
"Suppose we lie down here," Fred said after a while; "I am dead tired, and so are you. My head is spinning, and I cannot think clearly. 'He giveth His beloved sleep,' says the holy Word."
"You are right," Matthew responded; "nothing could be more welcome to me than a good bed at this time, though I am still hungry."
"If you are," Fred said, "have some more Indian meat; it is very good, although it is rather rare. But the Indians like it that way."
Matthew ate ravenously despite of the fact that the meat was only half done. But hunger is the best cook, as the proverb says, and he was not very fastidious. Anything would have tasted good to him just then.