"You know I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing, Paul," he said.
"Besides, I don't think they need to be in any hurry at Marlowe for that
powder. We'll rest here two or three days, and then take a fresh start."

Paul said no more. It would have been a terrible blow to him to have no
further share in the enterprise, but he had forced himself nevertheless to
make the offer. Now he leaned back luxuriously, and was content to wait.

"Of course," said Henry judicially, "we run risks here. You know that,
Paul"

"Everybody who lives in Kentucky runs risks, and big ones," said Paul.

"Then we'll sit here for the present and watch the forest. I don't like to
keep still, but it's a fine country to look at, isn't it, Paul?"

The love of the wilderness was upon Henry, and his eyes glowed as he
looked at the vast surrounding forest, the circling wall of deep-toned,
vivid colors. For him, danger, if absent, did not exist, and there was
inspiration in the crisp breeze that came over a thousand miles of
untenanted woods. He sat in the doorway, the door now open, and stretched
his long legs luxuriously. He was happy; while he might be anxious to go
on with the powder, he pined for neither Wareville nor Marlowe for their
own sakes.

Paul looked at his comrade with understanding and sympathy. The forest
made its appeal to him also, but in another way; and since Henry was
content, he would be content, too. Used as he was to hardships and narrow
quarters, the little cabin would not be a bad place in which to pass two
or three days. He turned back to the fire and held out his hands before