The drops came faster, and then settled into a continuous pour. Paul,
after a while, opened the window and looked out. Cold, wet air struck his
face, and darkness, almost pitchy, enveloped the cabin. Moon and stars
were gone, and could not see the circling wail of the forest. The rain
beat with a low, throbbing sound on the board roof, and, with a kind of
long sigh, on the ground outside. It seemed to Paul a very cold and a very
wet rain indeed, one that would be too much for any sort of human beings,
white or red.

"I think, we're safe to-night, Henry," he said, as he closed and fastened
the window.

"Yes, to-night," replied Henry.

Paul slept a dreamless sleep, lulled by the steady pour of the rain on the
roof, and when he awoke in the morning the sun was shining brightly,
without a cloud in the sky. But the forest dripped with rain. He was
strong enough now to help in preparing the breakfast, and Henry spoke with
confidence of their departure the next morning.

The hours passed without event, but when Henry went as usual through the
forest that afternoon, he came upon a footprint. He followed it and found
two or three more, and then they were lost on rocky ground. The discovery
was full of significance to him, and he thought once of hurrying back to
the cabin, and of leaving with Paul at once. But he quickly changed his
mind. In the forest they would be without defense save their own strong
arms, while the cabin was made of stout logs. And perhaps the danger would
pass after all. Already the twilight was coming, and in the darkness his
own footprints would not be seen.