To examine his supply of bullets was his next care, and slowly he counted them out, one by one, to the number of thirty.  This was a pretty fair supply, and with careful economy would last him many days.  Having relieved his mind on these all-important points, he carefully examined every pouch and corner of his dress to ascertain the exact amount and value of his wealth.

Besides the leather leggings, moccasins, deerskin hunting-shirt, cap, and belt which composed his costume, he had a short heavy hunting-knife, a piece of tinder, a little tin pannikin, which he had been in the habit of carrying at his belt, and a large cake of maple sugar.  This last is a species of sugar which is procured by the Indians from the maple-tree.  Several cakes of it had been carried off from the Pawnee village, and Dick usually carried one in the breast of his coat.  Besides these things, he found that the little Bible, for which his mother had made a small inside breast-pocket, was safe.  Dick’s heart smote him when he took it out and undid the clasp, for he had not looked at it until that day.  It was firmly bound with a brass clasp, so that, although the binding and the edges of the leaves were soaked, the inside was quite dry.  On opening the book to see if it had been damaged, a small paper fell out.  Picking it up quickly, he unfolded it, and read, in his mother’s handwriting:  “Call upon me in the time of trouble; and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me.  My son, give me thine heart.”

Dick’s eyes filled with tears while the sound, as it were, of his mother’s voice thus reached him unexpectedly in that lonely wilderness.  Like too many whose hearts are young and gay, Dick had regarded religion, if not as a gloomy, at least as not a cheerful thing.  But he felt the comfort of these words at that moment, and he resolved seriously to peruse his mother’s parting gift in time to come.

The sun was hot, and a warm breeze gently shook the leaves, so that Dick’s garments were soon dry.  A few minutes served to change the locks of his rifle, draw the wet charges, dry out the barrels, and re-load.  Then throwing it across his shoulder, he entered the wood and walked lightly away.  And well he might, poor fellow, for at that moment he felt light enough in person if not in heart.  His worldly goods were not such as to oppress him; but the little note had turned his thoughts towards home, and he felt comforted.

Traversing the belt of woodland that marked the course of the river, Dick soon emerged on the wide prairie beyond, and here he paused in some uncertainty as to how he should proceed.

He was too good a backwoodsman, albeit so young, to feel perplexed as to the points of the compass.  He knew pretty well what hour it was, so that the sun showed him the general bearings of the country, and he knew that when night came he could correct his course by the pole star.  Dick’s knowledge of astronomy was limited; he knew only one star by name, but that one was an inestimable treasure of knowledge.  His perplexity was owing to his uncertainty as to the direction in which his companions and their pursuers had gone; for he had made up his mind to follow their trail if possible, and render all the succour his single arm might afford.  To desert them, and make for the settlement, he held, would be a faithless and cowardly act.