Читать книгу Trail and Trading Post; or, The Young Hunters of the Ohio онлайн

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“Do you think we ought to pull in the canoe?” asked Dave. “The Indians may come along and see it.”

“It wouldn’t be a bad plan,” answered Henry.

They soon had the battered craft out of the river. They turned it upside down, resting each end on a rock, and thus it formed for them something of a shelter in front of the fire.

With the brightness of the blaze, matters appeared to take on a more cheerful turn. Henry took off the most of his garments and dried them, and Dave did likewise, and the former also cared for his hurt ankle. The youths calculated that it was about midnight. They did not know where they were, nor what new dangers might confront them. Each looked to his firearm, to see that it could be used if necessary, and one kept the hunting knife and the other the tomahawk in readiness.

“I think we had better take turns watching,” said Henry. “There is no use in both keeping awake.”

He took the first vigil, allowing Dave to sleep until about three o’clock. Then he turned in for a solid sleep lasting several hours.