and sputtering cheerily in the blaze of the pine-knots.
Everything looked pleasant and promising, and it only wanted the
presence of Basil to make them all feel quite happy again. Basil,
however, did not make his appearance; and as they were all as hungry as
wolves, they could not wait for him, but set upon the antelope-venison,
and made each of them a hearty meal from it.

As yet they had no apprehensions about Basil. They supposed he had not
met with any game, and was still travelling about in search of it.
Should he succeed in killing any, he would bring it in; and should he
not, he would return in proper time without it. It was still early in
the day.

But several hours passed over, and he did not come. It was an unusual
length of time for him to be absent, especially in strange woods of
which he knew nothing; moreover, he was in his shirt-sleeves, and the
rest of his clothing had been dripping wet when he set out. Under these
circumstances would he remain so long, unless something unpleasant had
happened to him?

This question the three began to ask one another. They began to grow
uneasy about their absent companion; and as the hours passed on without
his appearing, their uneasiness increased to serious alarm. They at
length resolved to go in search of him. They took different directions,
so that there would be a better chance of finding him. Norman struck
out into the woods, while Lucien and Francois, followed by the dog
Marengo, kept down the bank--thinking that if Basil had got lost, he
would make for the river to guide him, as night approached. All were to
return to the camp at nightfall whether successful or not.

After several hours spent in traversing the woods and openings, Norman
came back. He had been unable to find any traces of their missing
companion. The others had got back before him. They heard his story
with sorrowing hearts, for neither had they fallen in with the track of
living creature. Basil was lost, beyond a doubt. He would never have
stayed so long, had not some accident happened to him. Perhaps he was
dead--killed by some wild animal--a panther or a bear. Perhaps he had
met with Indians, who had carried him off, or put him to death on the
spot. Such were the painful conjectures of his companions.

It was now night. All three sat mournfully over the fire, their looks
and gestures betokening the deep dejection they felt. Although in need
of repose, none of them atte