high up, until it trailed off to the west with the wind, where it lay
like a whiplash across the sky. This, too, was soon lost as they
traveled deeper into the forest, and then they were alone in the
wilderness, but without fear.

"When we were able to live here without arms or ammunition it's not
likely that we'll suffer, now is it?" said Paul to Henry.

"Suffer!" exclaimed Henry. "It's a journey that I couldn't be hired to
miss."

"It ought to be enjoyable," said Mr. Pennypacker; "that is, if our
relatives don't find it necessary to send into the Northwest, and try to
buy back our scalps from the Indian tribes."

But the schoolmaster was not serious. He had little fear of Indians in
the western part of Kentucky, where they seldom ranged, but he thought
it wise to put a slight restraint upon the exuberance of youth.

They camped that night about fifteen miles from Wareville under the
shadow of a great, overhanging rock, where they cooked some squirrels
that the shiftless one shot, in a tall tree. The schoolmaster upon this
occasion constituted himself cook.

"There is a popular belief," he said when he asserted his place, "that a
man of books is of no practical use in the world. I hereby intend to
give a living demonstration to the contrary."

Ross built the fire, and while the schoolmaster set himself to his task,
Henry and Paul took their fish hooks and lines and went down to the
creek that flowed near. It was so easy to catch perch and other fish
that there was no sport in it, and as soon as they had enough for supper
and breakfast they went back to the fire where the tempting odors that
arose indicated the truth of the schoolmaster's assertion. The squirrels
were done to a turn, and no doubt of his ability remained.

Supper over, they made themselves beds of boughs under the shadow of the
rock, while the horses were tethered near. They sank into dreamless
sleep, and it was the schoolmaster who awakened Paul and Henry the next
morning.

They entered that day a forest of extraordinary grandeur, almost clear
of undergrowth and with illimitable rows of mighty oak and beech trees.
As they passed through, it was like walking under the lofty roof of an
immense cathedral. The large masses of foliage met overhead and shut out
the sun, making the space beneath dim and shadowy, and sometimes it
seemed to the explorers that an echo of their own footsteps came back to
them.

Henry noted the trees, particularly the