The remorseless miscreants howled with disappointed rage as the search was abandoned. Fanny and Ethan drew a long sigh of relief when they heard their foes on the floor beneath them. The good Father to whom they prayed so earnestly had dimmed the eyes of the savages so that they could not see, and the danger of that terrible moment passed by them. Fanny breathed her thanks to God for her safety—she did not dare to speak them.
The savages consulted together, using brief, sharp, and exciting sentences. Their words were not understood, and no clew to their future purposes could be obtained. Lean Bear spoke in tones even more savage than he had used before, and the steps of the Indians were heard as they left the barn.
"Hev they gone?" asked Ethan, in a convulsive whisper.
"Yes, I think they have," replied Fanny, in a tone not less agitated. "Let us thank God that we are still safe."
"Don't whistle till you get out o' the woods," added Ethan, who referred, not to the thanks, but to the exultation which his companion appeared to feel at their apparent safety.
"We must be thankful and submissive, Ethan. We have been saved this time, whatever may happen next."
"I am thankful."
"I know you are. We must trust in our Father in heaven if we expect him to hear our prayer."
"'Sh!" interposed Ethan, as he became silent and motionless again.
The voices of the Indians were heard near the barn again, and other moments of agonizing suspense were in store for the fugitives. The gruff tones of Lean Bear rose above those of his companions, and it was evident that they had not yet given up the search.