The place for which the two were searching was found within a furlong of where Larry Murphy, with the assistance of his companion, leaped the day before. But how different from that which they had in mind! Instead of a simple widening and shallowing of the stream, it expanded into a small lake several miles long, with a width one-third or one-half as great. The sheet of water discharged itself through the narrow, canyon-like passage, eventually finding its way into the Ohio. The placid surface gleamed in the moonlight, and was without a ripple. The shores were shaded by overhanging limbs, and the scene was as lonely, as beautiful and impressive as at creation's morn. The only sign of life was themselves.

"Now," said young Edwards, after he and his friend had gazed upon the water for some minutes in silence, "it looks as if the only way to get back to the trail is to go round the lake."

"But that may reach a dozen miles or farther yet, and by the time we have come round the same we'll be forty miles from the block-house, and not knowing which way to turn to find it. Ye're aware, Whart, how hard it is to keep our bearings whin we're in the woods without knowing the course to take to git anywhere. We'll be sure to go astray, and may pass within fifty yards of the block-house without knowing the same."

"You mustn't forget that the trail which we have been following is not the only one that leads to the place. They extend out in all directions, and we'll strike some of them."

"How can we know which course to take? The bother of it is, one may go farther away from it all the time."

"It isn't as bad as that, but," added Wharton, gravely, "the night is getting far along, and we must be several miles from the path, unless it happens to bend around toward the lake. We can't get back to it before daylight, if we do then. What I am afraid of is that father and mother won't wait at the block-house for us, but run right into the very danger we have just escaped."

"Do ye mind now that they won't start before morning, and they can't reach the falls till about noon?"

"That all sounds reasonable enough," replied Wharton, who was considerably agitated, "but how do we know we're going back to the trail inside of the next two or three days?"

Larry looked at his companion in surprise. The two were standing where the moonlight fell upon them, and their countenances were plainly visible to each other. It had been the Irish youth that, previous to this time, had expressed the most misgiving as to the result, but the other seemed to become, all at once, the most despondent.

The fact was that Wharton was quite buoyant in spirits until they came to the lake. He had been hoping that long before this they would be able to turn back toward the trail, and the prospect of several miles' farther detour naturally caused his discouragement.

Those were not the days when young men carried watches, but they knew it was beyond midnight. They were ravenously hungry and were fagged out. They had been undergoing severe exertion for many hours, and Wharton especially had been forced to tax his endurance to the utmost extremity during that fearful race with Blazing Arrow.

"Larry," said he, taking a seat on a bowlder just without the fringe of shadow cast by the trees, "I don't know whether the best thing we can do isn't to sleep for the rest of the night. I was never so tired in all my life."

"There is only one thing I want more than sleep."

"What's that?"

"Something to eat."

"And with the woods full of it we haven't a chance to get a mouthful."

"And with the lake there running over with—hould!" exclaimed Larry, pausing in the act of seating himself by his companion; "help me to start a fire, Whart."

"I don't know about that," replied the other; "the Shawanoes are likely to be in these parts, and we must build it back among the trees, where there is less danger."

"That's just what we mustn't do, me boy; it must be near the water; it's mesilf that will gather the stuff, and do ye be ready with the flint and steel."

Wharton, understanding the plan of his friend, lent his aid. It was an easy matter to collect some dry twigs and leaves, which were carefully placed in a heap on one of the flat rocks close to the water's edge. Then, while Larry busied himself in gathering more substantial fuel, young Edwards brought his old-fashioned flint and steel into play. He used no tinder, but there was a shower of streaming sparks soon flying from the swiftly moving metals, and before long one of them caught a crisp leaf, which was easily nursed into a flame that ate its way fast into the twigs and larger sticks. In less time than would be supposed, a vigorous fire was burning on the rock and sending its reflection far across the gleaming water.

Then Larry had not long to wait. Stooping by the edge of the lake, he bared his arm and leaned forward, as alert as a cat watching for a mouse. Suddenly his hand shot below the surface, there was a splash, and a plump fish flew out beyond the expectant Wharton. He had his hand in a twinkling on the flapping prize that gleamed in the firelight.

"Cook him quick, Whart!" cried the delighted Larry; "there's no need to wait till I git more; that's only a starter."

Each did his duty, the elder stopping work when he had landed a couple more, one of which weighed fully two pounds. By that time the younger of the two was broiling the first in the hot flames, the appetizing odor of which made the couple almost irrestrainable. Larry wanted to attack it before it was finished, but Wharton insisted that the meal should be in the best style of the art. They carried no condiment with them except that which excels others—hunger.

It was a most nourishing and toothsome repast that they made. Nothing, indeed, could have been more enjoyable. The lake was overflowing with edible fish, for probably no white men had ever drawn one from the waters, and if the Indians took any they were few in number. The light of the fire attracted many to the spot.

"Now that we've had such a good supper," said Wharton, "I think it's best to let the fire go out."

"I'll hurry the same."

Larry scattered the embers with his shoes, so that in a few minutes little was left of them. Then he seated himself beside his friend, and was on the point of making some characteristic remark when Wharton excitedly grasped his arm and whispered:

"Hark! do you hear that? What does it mean?"

"It's a ghost!" replied the awed Larry; "let's be getting out of this as fast as we can!"