"But what shall we do?" Matthew asked.
"Run," Fred replied.
They ran as fast as they could, looking around occasionally to see whether they were followed by Indians, but only the dogs came after them, gaining a little more on them as the boys became weaker.
"I am through," Matthew finally said; "I cannot run any more."
"Neither can I," replied Fred; "but see, here is a hollow log; let us creep into it."
At once they remembered that this act was foolish, for the dogs, barking at their prey, would eventually attract the Indians. But they had no time to change their minds; they were dead tired, and no sooner had they slipped into the tree when the animals were upon them.
For a moment the boys were silent, while the dogs endeavored to follow them into the hollow log.
"Say, we are company enough," Fred muttered; "we don't need you in here.
What shall I do, Matthew? Slip me the knife."
"If those dogs are as hungry, as I am," Matthew said, "a little bear's meat might do us good service."
"That's a great idea," Fred answered; "well, hand me some of what is left. It is unfit for us to eat anyway."