shelter in between the rocks and those trees. We may as well let her rest there, for we cannot carry her all the way home."
"But the delay—" began Dave.
"Surely you don't wish to leave her to her fate, Dave?"
"No! no! You know me better than that, Henry, but I was thinking of those left at home. They may be in trouble, too, and if so they will need us."
"I've been thinking of a plan. I'm stronger than you and perhaps I can get her along alone, after she recovers. Can you find the house from here?"
"I think I can. The creek is just beyond that next patch of timber, isn't it?"
"Yes, in that direction." Henry pointed with his hand. "If you find everything all right you might bring father back to help—if he isn't afraid the Indians will arrive in the meantime."
So it was arranged, and without loss of another moment Dave started on his solitary way through the somber woods, now as silent as the grave, for the wind had gone down and the last of the night birds had given their final calls.
Under ordinary circumstances Dave would have been sleepy, for the day's tramping had been sufficient to tire anybody, but now all thoughts of rest were banished and he was as alert as ever as he
