Passing the Night.—On Guard.—The watchful Sentinel.—Plans.—Through the Woods.—The winding River.—Fishing.—The overcast Sky. Arrival of Pat with startling Tidings.—A useless Search.
FOR a few moments the whole party stood, confounded by this new and sudden turn which events had taken.

“He’s gone, anyhow,” said Pat, who was the first to break the silence.

The other boys said nothing. As for Solomon, he stared for a few moments all around, and then quietly seated himself by the fire.

“Well, of all de cur’ousest an strornar est things!” he exclaimed. “Ef dis don’t beat all creation holler, den I’m a niggar. An me in a fight—a rail battle; no play, mind you; but a fight for life and def. Clar ef I can understan it.”

And Solomon buried his head in his hands, quite overcome.

“Anyhow,” he resumed after a pause, “ye see how it was, chil’en. Dat ar demon was a plungin an a jumpin, an I see he was makin for you; so I ‘termined I’d hab a shy at him. Couldn’t stan dat ar nohow. Ain’t a fightin man; but dat ar Ingin war so dreadful aggravatin; mor’n flesh an blood could stan. Anyhow, I did gib him nuff ob it for one spell; an he’ll tink twicet afore he tackle any ob us agin.”

“I never was so astonished in my life,” said Bart. “And how you did pitch into him!” he continued, admiringly. “Why, you gave a leap like a tiger. Down he went, with you on top—at his throat.”

Solomon laughed long, joyously, and uproariously. He chuckled, he giggled, he slapped his knees, and finally he threw himself flat on his back, and lay there, laughing, chuckling, crowing, and making a confused medley of noises, all of which were intended by him to be expressive of triumph and exultation.

“Clar ef I know what ebber did git hold ob me dat time,” he said, in the intervals of his laughter. “Specs I mus hab gone clean mad an rabin stracted. Didn’t tink dar was so much clar fight in me. Ain’t such a rheumatic old nig, arter all. Fight any drunken Ingin on de face ob de erf. Ki yi! Yep! Ho-o-o-o-o! Dat’s so.”

At all this the boys looked on without saying anything, wondering at the change. Could this be the same man, thought Bart, that had always seemed so helpless? whose “rheumatiz” seemed always to prevent the slightest exertion? Could this be the same Solomon who allowed himself to be captured by a parcel of Gaspereaugian boys? Could this be the same man whom he had seen only a day or two before, cowering and cringing at the sight of an angry woman? Was the Solomon over whom Black Betsy had tyrannized so remorselessly indeed the same one who had just flung himself at the throat of a madman, and overpowered him? It seemed incredible.

Yet it was no other. Already Solomon was himself again, his old natural self. Already he began to investigate his joints, and to murmur doleful anticipations of a fresh attack of rheumatiz. But the boys had other things than this to think of. The question now was, how to pass the night. They did not feel altogether safe. The madman who had just threatened them had fled; but it seemed to them as though he was still lurking somewhere near them in the shadow of the gloomy forest, waiting his chance; waiting till they should go to sleep, so that he might rush upon them unawares. If they wished to sleep at all, it would never do, they thought, for them to sleep here with the firelight shining upon them, and revealing them to the gaze of their enemy. They must seek some other place.

On mentioning this to Solomon, he objected very strongly.

“Dar’s no danger, chil’en,” he said. “Dat ar Injun won’t ebber come back agin. He darsn’t. He nebber forget my grip. I frikend dat ar Injun away forebbermo.”

“O, that’s the very reason why he’ll be back,” said Bart. “He’ll wait till we’re all asleep, and then attack us. He’ll make a sudden spring at you first.”

“No, he won’t,” said Solomon; “nebba. He don’t do dat ar wid dis chile.”

“How can you prevent him if you’re asleep?”

“Cos I don’t’tend goin to sleep; dat’s how,” said Solomon. “Got him dar, anyhow. Yah, yah, yah.”

“What! do you intend to watch?”

“Jes so. I pose on dis yar solemn casion, my spected friends, to keep de fire a goin, and to hole a watch an a guard ober de party.”

“Do you think we’d let you do that?” said Bart. “Do you think we’d go to sleep, and leave you to watch us all night? No. If there’s going to be any watching, we’ll take turns.”

“Dat ar am all berry well,” said Solomon, with a dignified wave of his hand, “stremely well, an proppa for ordnary casiums; but dis yar casium’s a berry strornary casium. Dar’s danger; and de man dat’s goin to keep watch mus be able to face de enemy in a fight. Dat ars de reason, den, why I pose to keep a lookout. I’ll set heah, keep de fire a goin, an you can all sleep safe an sound. Dar’s no use for you to set up.”

“But you must sleep,” said Bart.

“O, I’ll wake you up early in de mornin, an hab my sleep den. So now don’t talk no more, for I’m a goin to do dat ar, an watch dis bressed night.”

Some further conversation followed, in which the boys insisted on watching for a part of the time, at least. They were so urgent, that Solomon at last had to consent. He insisted, however, that he would sit up during the first part of the night, as the danger would be most likely to take place then, if it took place at all, and promised to wake them towards morning. With this understanding the boys lay down by the fire, and in spite of their recent excitement, they soon fell asleep.

Solomon sat there by the fire keeping watch with all his senses on the alert. No danger was there of this faithful old sentinel sleeping at his post. The very possibility of danger to the boys was enough to keep all his mind wakeful and attentive. After a time he moved back a little, and rested his back against a tree.

The hours of the night passed on slowly and tediously. The boys slept soundly, and were lost in the land of dreams. Occasionally Solomon amused himself and beguiled the time by going forth and collecting sticks for the fire. The flames smouldered low, and the sticks that Solomon was able to gather were not sufficient to kindle them afresh to any great extent, and so the consequence was, that at length it nearly died out. It was profoundly dark; but still Solomon watched, and felt no inclination to sleep.

He had promised to awake the boys towards morning, but they slept so soundly that he had not the heart to keep his promise, and so he let them sleep on. At length Bart awoke, and, starting up, he looked all around. It was early morning twilight; the sky was brightening overhead, and the forms of the forest trees were visible around. As he started, Solomon got up, and walked towards him.

“Well, Mas’r Bart,” said he, “all right so far. De Injun gone off forebbamo.”

“Why didn’t you wake me before?” asked Bart.

“De gracious sakes, now, chile!” said Solomon; “dar wasn’t no casium. ’Tain’t mornin yet.”

“Well, you lie down now, and go to sleep,” said Bart.

“All right,” said Solomon; and going back to the tree where he had been sitting, he curled himself up on the moss at the foot of it, and, drawing his shawl over his head and shoulders, was soon in a sound slumber.

And now the morning advanced; slowly the shades of night faded away, until, at length, the day dawned, and a thousand birds awaked the echoes of the forest in all directions, and filled all the air with a flood of melody. Bart looked up at the sky, and noticed that it was overcast. There was also a very peculiar appearance there which excited his attention. There seemed clouds overhead; but the clouds had a sickly, yellowish color, which was unlike anything that he had ever seen. After a short time, Pat and Phil awoke, and Bart drew their attention to this. They, however, thought nothing of it.

“It’s only common clouds,” said Phil.

“Deed, an it’s a good sign, so it is,” said Pat, in his usual tone of confidence. “The trout bite wondherful whin they see a sky like that over thim. It’s lucky for us we’ve got sich weather.”

Bart had his doubts about this, but he kept them to himself, and then the boys began to consider what they had better do. The loss of their Indian guide made a change in their circumstances of a very important nature. As long as they had him with them, they had no care or anxiety, for they knew that he would take them to all the best places in the country. But, now that he had gone, what ought they to do first?

The idea of going back occurred, but it was at once dismissed. To go back would be very fatiguing, and would be of no particular use. For, if they did get another guide, he might turn out as badly as the one whom they had lost; and besides, their experience with Sam disgusted them with guides and with Indians altogether.

“If I only had a compass,” said Bart, “we’d be all right, for we could at least be able to choose some direction, and have some idea of where we went. But, as it is, we shall have to wander at random.”

“Sure and that’s the very best way there is to wandhcr, so it is,” said Pat. “It’s a mighty sight better to go sthrollin along as you like than it is to be taggin afther a big drunken Injin, any day.”

“Yes,” said Phil, “that’s the best way. Let’s go strolling along, fishing at every brook we come to, and enjoy ourselves. We can make camps, and if we come to any pleasanter place than usual, we can stay there for two or three days. Why, this is the very best way of enjoying ourselves. I’m sure I couldn’t imagine anything more glorious.”

“I wonder if there are any fish up that little brook,” said Bart.

“Sure an we’d betther try.”

“One of us had better stay behind with Solomon,” said Bart.

“I’ll stay,” said Phil; “I’ll get some sticks and build the fire again, and if you do get any fish, we’ll be able to have some for breakfast.”

Upon this, Bart and Pat prepared their rods, and lines, and went off up the brook. It was not very large, but it had the general appearance of a good trouting stream; and the appearance did not deceive them, for after a short time, to their great joy, they succeeded in hooking ten or a dozen very respectable trout, with which they returned to the “encampment.” Here they found a brisk fire, beside which Phil was sitting awaiting their return. As they reached the place, Solomon awoke from his nap, and joined them at the fire. Then followed breakfast, which consisted of broiled trout, and, as they had brought plenty of salt and pepper in their baskets, there was no lack of relish, and the fish was pronounced delicious.

After breakfast, they once more noticed the appearance of the sky. It had still that dull, sickly, yellowish hue which had first struck Bart’s attention. Although the day had advanced since then, the sky had not changed, and there was no increase of light.

“It’s smoke,” said Bart. “I wonder what’s the cause of it.”

“De woods are burnin,” said Solomon.

“I wonder if it is anywhere near,” said Phil.

“O, no!” said Bart; “it’s some distant fire or other. Perhaps they’re clearing land.”

“Dar’s alius smoke a floatin about d’ese times in de woods,” said Solomon. “Dey keep a clearin an a choppin—no end.”

“Sure an it’s all the betther fer us,” said Pat, “for an overcast sky is the thing for the throut; an sure they niver know the difference whither it’s smoke or clouds, so they don’t, an they bite all the same, so they do.”

They now prepared for the day’s work; but before starting, Bart said that they ought to appoint some place of meeting, in case they got separated. On discussing this point, however, they soon found that they were not in a position to appoint any place of rendezvous, since no one place was known to them except where they were sitting. They did not care about remaining in the vicinity of this place, but wished to ramble on at leisure, and at liberty.

“Sure an there’s no nade,” said Pat; “we can all kape widin hearin of one another, so we can.”

“At any rate,” said Phil, “we can start now, and stay by one another as long as possible. If we come to any place where we have to separate, we can easily make an arrangement to come back to that place.”

This last remark seemed satisfactory, and as it was really the only thing that they could do, they said no more on the subject, but set forth at once.

They walked on for about an hour, and at length emerged from the pine trees, and came to woods where the trees were largely birch and maple. Thus far, their progress had been very easy, as the ground under the pine trees was smooth, and there was very little underbrush. At this place, however, it became more difficult. Small trees and underbrush arose on every side in great profusion, and the ground rose in a succession of gentle eminences, while an occasional swamp intervened. Still, it was not very difficult walking even there, and the chief difference was, that their course became much more circuitous. Through this they wandered for another hour and more, without finding any place that was at all suitable.

At length, to their great joy, they found themselves upon the edge of a small rivulet, which was not more than forty or fifty feet in width. Its bed just here was strewn with pebbles and cobblestones; but farther up and down, they saw hollows and deeper places in the river-bed, which promised some sport. Here they prepared for action. Phil and Pat offered to go down the stream, while Bart and Solomon could go up. Before parting, it was settled that they should come back to this place. On the other side of the stream there were two birch trees growing close together, which would serve as a sufficient landmark to enable them to recognize this place on their return; and with this arrangement the two parties separated, Phil and Pat descending the stream, while Bart and Solomon went up the channel.

Bart and Solomon went up the river-bed for some distance. They found no difficulty in going along, for the stream was shallow, and they could wade it in most places. Occasionally they came to deeper places, which they traversed by going round them. At length they reached a place that looked favorable to their designs, and began to try them. A few bites rewarded them, and two or three small trout were soon deposited in their baskets. They now began to enter more into the spirit of the occasion, and continued slowly ascending the stream, stopping sometimes a long while in some particularly good place, till they had exhausted it, and then resuming their tramp. The consequence was, that their baskets soon began to be unpleasantly heavy, and they had to confine themselves more exclusively to one spot, and indulge to a less extent in their wanderings. All this time these two had had no occasion to keep a lookout on each other, for Solomon, with his instinct of fidelity, had no other idea than that of simply following Bart wherever he went.

All this time the sky had maintained the same yellowish hue, and was as much overcast as ever. Here and there they reached places where the view upward was more extensive, and their gaze could command a larger part of the sky. They saw rolling clouds which seemed most unmistakably to be smoke, and these they thought the sure indications of some fire, which, judging from these appearances, was larger than usual. Beyond an occasional glance upward, however, and a stray remark, these appearances excited no particular notice on the part of either of them.

At length it began to grow somewhat late, and they decided to return. Their long march and still longer fishing excursion had greatly fatigued them; and in going back, they found the distance far greater than they had supposed. At length they recognized the landmark; and here they both flung themselves wearily down upon the bank, and waited for the return of the others.

For a long time they waited there. It grew later and later, but there was no sign of either of them. At length they saw some one coming, and as he drew nearer they recognized Pat. He was very much out of breath, and soaking wet from head to foot.

“Where’s Phil?”

Those were the first words that Pat spoke, and he spoke them in hurried, anxious tones.

“Phil!” cried Bart. “Why, don’t you know?”

“Hasn’t he got back yit?” said Pat, with something like a wail.

“No,” said Bart, as a dark feeling of apprehension came to him.

“Och, thin,” cried Pat, “it’s fairly heart-broke I am, so I am; and no one knows what I’ve suffered this blissed day. Sorra one o’ me knows what has become of him. An I’ve been scourin the whole country back’ards an for’ards, an yellin meself hoarse, so that I can’t utther one blissed howl more, so I can’t.”

At these startling words, all Pat’s anxiety and more communicated itself to Bart. He hastily questioned Pat about Phil’s disappearance.

“We wint down,” said Pat, “for iver so far, an we came to one of the foinest holes iver was. We fished there a half hour an more, and thin Phil says, says he, ‘I’ll go, says he, over beyont,’—for there was a moighty big rock jist forninst us. So he wint for to climb the rock, and he says, ‘I’m goin furder down,’ says he. So I thought no more about it, but wint on wid me fishin. It wasn’t for iver so long that I thought of him; but at last I begins to fail anxious, and wondhers to meself what iver have become of him. So I started off. I didn’t climb over the big rock, as he did, but crossed the sthraim and wint down the other side. Well, I couldn’t see a sign of him. I called, an yelled, an howled, an walked iver so far down an back agin; an that same I’ve been doin iver since, till I thought, at last, he might have somehow got back here. An he ain’t here.”

This story caused terrible anxiety. Bart at once started down the stream, and reached a high, rocky bank covered with trees. He stood here and called. It was now too dark to see much. His calls awaked no response. He then returned, full of the most anxious fears, with a faint hope that he might find Phil on his return.

But on his return there was no Phil to be seen.