The lad began to feel that a great deal of responsibility was on his shoulders.  The remembrance of Mickey O’Rooney going to sleep was alarming to him.  He looked upon him as one regards a sentinel who sinks into slumber when upon duty.  Knowing the cunning of the redskins, Fred feared that they would discover the fact, and descend into the cave in such numbers that escape would be out of the question.

And then again, suppose that their enemies did not disturb them, what was to be their fate?  The venison in the possession of the Irishman could not last a great deal longer, and, when that was gone, no means of obtaining food would be left.  What were the two prisoners then to do?

Mickey had hinted to Fred what his intention was, but the lad felt very little faith in its success.  It appeared like throwing life away to make such a foolhardy attempt to reach the outside as diving into a stream of water from which there was no withdrawal, and the length of whose flow beneath the rock could only be conjectured, with all the chances against success.  But Fred recalled in what a marked manner Providence had favored him in the past, and he could but feel a strong faith that He would still hold him in his remembrance.  “I wouldn’t have believed I could go through all that I have had in the last few days; and yet God remembered me, and I am sure He will not forget me so long as I try to do His will.”

On the eve of starting he fancied he heard a slight rustling on his right, and he paused, hoping that the wolf would show himself again; but he could not discern anything, and concluded that it was the dropping of a stone or fragment of earth.  The lad was further pleased to find, upon examination, that the revolver in his possession was uninjured by his fall.  In short, the only one that had received any injuries was himself, and his were not of a serious character, being simply bruises, the effects of which would wear off in a short time.

“I hate to leave here without seeing that wolf,” he said, as he stood hesitating, with his torch in hand.  “He may be sneaking somewhere among these rocks, popping in and out whenever he has a chance; and if I could only get another sight of him, I would stick to him till he told me his secret.”

He awaited awhile longer, but the hope was an illusive one, and he finally started on his return to camp.

CHAPTER III.

Strange experiences.

Young Munson was destined to learn ultimately that he had undertaken an impossible task.  The hunter, in the flush and excitement attending the pursuit of game, can form no correct idea of the distance passed, and so he, in attempting to run the shadowy wolf to earth, had traveled twice as far as he supposed.  The case is altogether different when the hunter starts to return.  It is then that the furlongs become miles, and the wearied pursuer feels disgusted with the enthusiasm which led him so far away from headquarters.