“Bougainville was right in supposing that prisoners would not be likely to attempt to escape,” James said, in a low voice.  “The look of those Indians would be quite sufficient to prevent anyone from attempting it, under ordinary circumstances.  It is well that my business will take me down the river towards Quebec, while they will make sure that I shall have made up the river, with a view of making my way off to the ships, the next time they go up above Cap Rouge.”

“It will be risky work getting through them,” the midshipman remarked; “but all the same, I wish I was going with you, instead of having to stick here in prison.”

“It would be running too great a risk of spoiling my chance of success,” James said.  “I am accustomed to the redskins, and can crawl through them as noiselessly as they could themselves.  Besides, one can hide where two could not.  I only hope that, when they find I have gone, they won’t take it into their heads to revenge my escape upon you.”

“There is no fear of that,” the midshipman said.  “I shall be sound asleep in the tent, and when they wake me up, and find you are gone, I shall make a tremendous fuss, and pretend to be most indignant that you have deserted me.”

The two prisoners had eaten but little of the meals served to them that day, putting the greater portion aside, and hiding it in the straw which served for their beds, in order that James might take with him a supply, for it might be three or four days before he could be taken off by the ships’ boats.

“I suppose you won’t go very far tonight?” the midshipman said, suddenly.

“No,” James replied.  “I shall hide somewhere along the face of the cliff, a mile or so away.  They are not likely to look for me down the river at all; but, if they do, they will think I have gone as far as I can away, and the nearer I am to this place, the safer.”

“Look here,” the midshipman said.  “I am going strictly to obey orders; but, at the same time, it is just possible that something may turn up that you ought to know, or that might make me want to bolt.  Suppose, for instance, I heard them say that they meant to shoot us both in the morning—­it’s not likely, you know; still, it’s always as well to be prepared for whatever might happen—­if so, I should crawl out of camp, and make my way along after you.  And if so, I shall walk along the edge, and sometimes give two little whistles like this; and, if you hear me, you answer me.”

“Don’t be foolish, Middleton,” James said seriously.  “You would only risk your life, and mine, by any nonsense of that sort.  There can’t be any possible reason why you should want to go away.  You have undertaken to carry this out, knowing that you would have, perhaps, to remain a prisoner for some time; and having undertaken it, you must keep to the plans laid down.”

“But I am going to, Captain Walsham.  Still, you know, something might turn up.”