Henry examined the forest again, widening his circle, and saw no traces of an enemy.  He judged that they had passed either to east or west, and that he and Paul would not be molested just yet, although he had no confidence in their permanent security.  He saw a deer, but in view of their bountiful supply of pigeons he did not risk a shot, and returned before noon, to find Paul rapidly regaining his strength.  He cooked two more of the pigeons in their precious iron pot, and then they rested.

They left both door and window open now, and they could see forest and sky.  Henry called attention to a slight paleness in the western heavens, and then noted that the air felt damp.

“It will rain to-night, Paul,” he said, “and it is a good thing for you, in your weakened condition, that we have a roof.”

They ate pigeon again for supper, and their wilderness appetites were too sharp to complain of sameness.  They had barred window and door, and let the fire die down to a bed of glowing coals, and while they ate, Paul heard the first big drops of rain strike on the board roof.  Other drops came down the chimney, fell in the coals, and hissed as they died.  Paul shivered, and then felt very good indeed in the dry little cabin.

“You were a real prophet, Henry,” he said.  “Here’s your storm.”

“Not a storm,” said Henry, “but a long, cold, steady rain.  Even an Indian would not want to be out in it, and bear and panther will hunt their holes.”

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.