They wrapped themselves in their blankets to keep off any chill that might come later in the night, lay down under the boughs of the dwarf oaks, and slept soundly until the next day, keeping no watch, because they were sure they needed none. Tom Ross himself never opened his eyes once until the sun rose. Then the problem of food, imminent and pressing, as the last of the fish was gone, presented itself.
“I think that branch is big enough to hold fish,” said Tom Ross, bringing forth his hook and line again, “an’ ef any are thar they’ll be purty tame, seein’ that the water wuz never fished afore. Anyway I’ll soon see.”
The others watched him anxiously, as he threw in his bait, and their delight was immense, when a half hour’s effort was rewarded with a half dozen perch, of fair size and obviously succulent.
“At any rate, we won’t starve,” said Henry, “though it would be hard to live on fish alone, and besides it’s not healthy.”
“But we’ll get something else,” said Paul.
“What else?”
“I don’t know, but I notice when we keep on looking we’re always sure to find.”
“You’re right, Paul. It’s a good thing to have faith, and I’ll have it, too. But we can eat fish for several meals yet, and then see what will happen.”
They devoted the morning to a thorough washing and cleaning of their clothing, which they dried in the sun, and they also made a further examination of the oasis. The swamp came up to its very edge on all three sides except that of the brook, and a little distance beyond the brook it was swamp again. It would have been hard to imagine a more secluded and secure retreat, and Henry dismissed from his mind the thought of immediate pursuit there by the Indians. Their present problems were those of food and shelter.
“I think,” he said, “that we ought to build a bark hut. There’s a natural site between the four big trees which will be the corners of our house, and the ground is just covered with the kind of bark we want.”