The two threw themselves once more on the ground, and were soon fast asleep.
Joe proved to be correct in his prediction concerning the reappearance of their terrified companion.
The next morning, when they were sitting at breakfast—that is, sitting under a tree with their repast spread out on a paper between them—the man from Pike County rode up. He looked haggard, as well he might, not having ventured to sleep for fear of the Indians, and his horse seemed weary and dragged out.
“Where have you been?” asked Mr. Bickford innocently.
“Chasin’ the Indians,” said the Rip-tail Roarer, swinging himself from his saddle.
“Sho! Be there any Indians about here?”
“Didn’t you hear them last night?” inquired the man from Pike.
“No.”
“Nor you?” turning to Joe.