"Don'd please some more mofe yet to-night," said Fritz. "After to-day's valk ve should be py the Pacific Ocean already."
Telca considering Dick's suggestion, puffed deliberately at his pipe.
"The mountain path is shorter than valley one," said the Indian. "If soldiers walk all day, be most there to-night. Maybe go through before sun to-morrow."
"Then, let's get there to-night," said Dick. "You say it's an hour's tramp, and we can get there and take up our position before there is any possible chance of the British getting past."
"You right," finally said Telca. "We move on now."
"Ve don'd nefer sleep," grumbled Fritz, "und ven ve haf a chance, you must vent and spoil id."
"Well, we'll be back on the water soon, and you can let your legs sleep while you paddle with your arms," said Dick, laughing.
After gathering up their packs and putting out all the fires, the Indians started out for their final camp. It was pitch dark when they arrived at the selected place, and they all rolled up in their blankets wherever they could find a level space big enough to hold them. Three of the Redmen stalked away through the trees to keep watch over the sleeping tribe, and both Dick and Fritz were glad that they were not forced to take turns standing guard, after so long a day on the trail.
The next morning proved to be wet and rainy, and, although the Indians apparently did not object to the condition of the weather, the boys were both very uncomfortable. Their long campaigning, however, had taught them to make the best of everything. A careful investigation failed to disclose the whereabouts of the British troop, and Dick and Fritz finally decided to go ahead to the river bank, which was only a mile from where they had slept, and see what prospect there was of getting a canoe. One of the Indians accompanied them, and they hurried briskly down the trail through the fog.