“Just so,” said Henry, “and our enemies remain on guard.  They’ll wait for us.”

He thought it best to put the case plainly and in all its hideous phases to Paul.  While savages sometimes abandoned a siege very soon, they did not show signs of ceasing now.  Perhaps they relied on starving out the besieged, and if they only knew the state of affairs within the cabin theirs was a good reliance.

Their brief dinner over, the two boys sat down on the floor, and from the loopholes on either side watched the forest.  To Paul the whole air and atmosphere of the cabin had now become intolerably oppressive.  At first it had been such a strong, snug place of refuge that he rejoiced, but at last his sensitive spirit was weighed down by the long delay, the gloom, and the silence.  The sight of their limited rations brought to him all the future—­the vigilant enemy on guard, the last little piece of food gone, then slow starvation, or a rush on the savage bullets and sure death.  As usual, his uncommon imagination was depicting everything in vivid colors, far in advance.

But he said nothing, nor did Henry.  They had already exhausted all subjects for talk, and they waited—­Henry with real, and Paul with assumed patience.  Fully two hours passed in silence, but after that time it was naturally Paul who spoke first.

“Henry,” he said in a tone that indicated unbelief in his own words, “don’t you think that they must have got tired and gone away?”

“No, they are surely in the forest about us; but since they won’t go, Paul, you and I must leave to-night.”

“What do you mean?” Paul’s words expressed the greatest surprise.

Henry stood up, and figure, face, and words alike showed the greatest decision.

“Paul,” he said, “our last piece of venison will soon be gone, and the Shawnees, I think, will stay, expecting to starve us out, which they can do; but the night shows all the signs of being very dark, and you and I must slip through their lines some way or other.  Are you ready to try it?”

It was like a signal to Paul, those words, “Are you ready to try it?” He was ready to try anything now, as a release from the cabin, and a fine flare of color mounted to his cheeks as he replied: 

“I’ll follow you anywhere, Henry.”

Henry said nothing more; Paul’s reply was sufficient; but he resumed his position at the loophole, and attentively watched the heavens.  Somber clouds were rolling up from the southwest and the air was growing cooler, but heavy with damp.  Already the sun, so bright and pitiless in the morning, was obscured, and mists and vapors hung over the forest.  He judged that it would be a dark night, with flurries of mist and rain, just suited to his purpose, and he felt a sensation of relief.

“Paul,” he said, after a while, “I think we’d better take the two captured rifles with us again.  If we come face to face with ’em, a couple of extra shots might save us.”