r be so brave
as that."

"There was little bravery," Fred said contemptuously; "the Indians are
not careful; they just began the war; later they will take more care of
their prisoners. Now they still despise the whites."

"But what shall we do now?" Matthew asked. "We cannot stay here all
night."

"That is true," Fred answered; "we must be going; but first let us thank
the Lord for His goodness. Without Him we can do nothing. It is He who
hitherto has helped us, and may He bring Agnes back to us."

After a brief pause in which both thanked the Lord, they departed, Fred
carrying the musket, while Matthew held on to the knife.

Silently they crept up the high bank of the river through the deep
brushwood, until they could see the Indian camp. But though they looked
hard, the Indians were gone.

"What is the matter?" Matthew asked, as he looked at Fred with deep
concern in his eyes. "I see no Indians."

"Lie low," Fred admonished him, "and follow me."

The boys crept on, but the Indians were gone, not a trace could be
found of them.

"Perhaps it is a trap," Matthew commented; "we must be careful."
Deeper and deeper they pierced the woods. Dawn came, and day light,
and the boys were still walking, but not a trace of the Indians could
be seen. They had disappeared completely.

"Well, if they don't bother us," Fred remarked, "we shall not bother
them. We are angels of peace, and don't want war. So if they leave us
alone, we are satisfied."

"I should say so," Matthew assented. "No war for me, if I can help it."

"Suppose we lie down here," Fred said after a while; "I am dead tired,
and so are you. My head is spinning, and I cannot think clearly. 'He
giveth His beloved sleep,' says the holy Word."

"You are right," Matthew responded; "nothing could be more welcome to me
than a good bed at this time, though I am still hungry."

"If you are," Fred said, "have some more Indian meat; it is very good,
although it is rather rare. But the Indians like it that way."

Matthew ate ravenously despite of the fact that the meat was only half
done. But hunger is the best cook, as the proverb says, and he was not
very fastidious. Anything would have tasted good to him just then.

"But don't eat it all," Fred admonished him; "we may need of it for
dinner, though I hope that by that time we may have something better."

"I will mind your admonition," Matthew said smiling, as he plunged his
teeth into the ju