not even a stray puff, and the bushes never rustled. Henry
longed for a noise of some kind to break that terrible,
oppressive silence. What he really wished to hear was the soft
crunch of Long Jim's moccasins on the grass and leaves.

The night passed, the day came, and Henry awakened his comrades.
Long Jim was still missing and their alarm was justified.
Whatever trail lie might have struck, he would have returned in
the night unless something had happened to him. Henry had vague
theories, but nothing definite, and he kept them to himself. Yet
they must make a change in their plans. To go on and leave Long
Jim to whatever fate might be his was unthinkable. No task could
interfere with the duty of the five to one another.

"We are in one of the most dangerous of all the Indian
countries," said Henry. "We are on the fringe of the region over
which the Six Nations roam, and we know that Timmendiquas and a
band of the Wyandots are here also. Perhaps Miamis and Shawnees
have come, too."

"We've got to find Long Jim," said Silent Tom briefly.

They went about their task in five minutes. Breakfast consisted
of cold venison and a drink from a brook. Then they began to
search the forest. They felt sure that such woodsmen as they,
with the daylight to help them, would find some trace of Long
Jim, but they saw none at all, although they constantly widened
their circle, and again tried all their signals. Half the
forenoon passed in the vain search, and then they held a council.