The detour was made, and then, leaving the midshipman in hiding a few paces from the edge, James crawled back.  He soon saw, by the fires, that the battery was manned by sailors from the French fleet, and he had little fear of these discovering him.  Keeping well below them, he came presently upon a narrow path.  Above him, he could hear a French sentry walking.  He followed the path down, with the greatest caution, stepping with the most extreme care, to avoid displacing a stone.  He found the path was excessively steep and rugged, little more, indeed, than a sheep track.  It took him half an hour to reach the bottom, and he found that, in some places, sappers had been lately at work obliterating the path, and that it could scarcely be considered practicable for men hampered with their arms and ammunition.

Another half hour’s work took him to the top again, and a few minutes later he rejoined his companion.

“That won’t do,” he said.  “We must try again.  There is a path, but the troops could scarcely climb it if unopposed, and certainly could not do so without making such a noise as would attract the notice of the sentinels above.”

“That is the battery they call Sillery,” the midshipman said.  “They have fired at us over and over again from there, as we went up or down the river.  There is another about a mile further on.  It is called Samos.”

Upon reaching the Samos battery, James again crept up and reconnoitred.  The way down, however, was even more difficult than at Sillery.  There was, indeed, no regular path, and so steep was the descent that he doubted whether it would be possible for armed men to climb it.  Even he, exceptionally strong and active as he was, and unencumbered with arms, had the greatest difficulty in making his way down and up again and, indeed, could only do so by grasping the trunks of trees and strong bushes.

“It can’t be done there,” he said to the midshipman when he joined him again.  “And now we must look for a hiding place.  We must have been five or six hours since we started, and the nights are very short.  At any rate, we cannot attempt another exploration before morning.”

“I wish we could explore the inside of a farm house and light upon something to eat and drink,” the midshipman said.

“It’s no use wishing,” James replied.  “We can’t risk anything of that sort and, probably, all the farm houses are full of troops.  We have got a little bread left.  That will hold us over tomorrow comfortably.”

“It may hold us,” Middleton said; “but it certainly won’t hold me comfortably.  My idea of comfort, at the present time, would be a round of beef and a gallon of ale.”

“Ah!  You are an epicure,” James laughed.  “If you had had three or four years of campaigning in the forest, as I have had, you would learn to content yourself on something a good deal less than that.”

“I might,” the boy said; “but I have my doubts about it.  There’s one comfort.  We shall be able to sleep all day tomorrow, and so I sha’n’t think about it.  As the Indians did not find our tracks yesterday, they are not likely to do so today.”