“But Frenchmen are not named Bob and Dick,” said Paul with a smile.

“Wa’al ef they ain’t they ought to be,” said the shiftless one with conviction.  “Why they want to call theirselves by all them long names nobody can pronounce, when there are a lot o’ good, nice, short, handy names like Dick, an’ Jim, an’ Bill, an’ Bob, an’ Hank, layin’ ‘roun’ loose an’ jest beggin’ to be used, is more’n I kin understand.”

“We must soon decide what to do,” said Henry.  “If the Spanish captain concludes to help the Indians, and with Braxton Wyatt at his elbow I think he is likely to do it, our people in Kentucky will again be in great danger.  We must drive the Spaniards back to New Orleans.”

“I agree with you,” said Paul, “but how is it to be done?”

“Mebbe we kin shoo ’em back, skeer ’em, so to speak,” said Shif’less Sol.  “We’re jest bound to keep Spain out o’ this country.”

“It is true,” said Paul.  “Great things grow out of little ones.  Such a land as this is sure to have a great population some day and what we five do now, obscure and few as we are, may help to decide what that population is to be.”

As Paul spoke, his comrades and the shadowed glen floated away, and the look of seer came upon him.  Again he saw great towns and a nation.  The others regarded him with a little awe.  The spiritual, or rather prophetic, quality in Paul always had their deep respect.

“Paul shorely does take mighty long looks ahead,” whispered Shif’less Sol to Henry, “an’ sometimes I can’t follow him clean to the end.  I mostly drop by the way.  I like to live this very minute, an’ I’m pow’ful glad to be alive right now.  But I’m with him clean to the finish o’ our big job.”

Henry nodded and presently he and the shiftless one went away through the woods.  Paul, Ross, and Long Jim remained lying at ease in the forest—­Paul had learned the great wilderness lesson of patience—­and about noon the two returned.  They had been spying upon the Spanish camp, and they reported that Alvarez and his men had not moved.

“They seem to be waiting for something,” said Henry.  “Braxton Wyatt is still with them, and they have posted more sentinels in a wider circle.  I don’t believe they will move camp for several days.  So long as they keep theirs there, we’ll keep ours here.”

“O’ course,” said the shiftless one.  “We must keep the watch.”

Several days passed and there was little to do.  One or another of the five at times crept close to the Spanish camp, and always reported that the men there were lounging at their ease and still waiting.  Now and then the Spaniards hunted in detachments, usually guided by Braxton Wyatt, and brought in both deer and buffalo.  On the fourth day Henry and Paul also went hunting.

“The country west of here,” said Henry, “opens out into a big prairie, and we may see something worth seeing.”

Paul did not ask what it was, content to go and see, and the two, rifle on shoulder, slipped away through the woods, taking a direct, western course.