Daylight overtook us at the edge of a slough, which bordered a little lake, where in the gray dawn, Tim, by a lucky shot, managed to kill a crippled duck, which later furnished us with a meager breakfast.

In the security of a near-by cluster of trees, we ventured to build a fire, and, sitting about it, discussed whether to remain there, or press on.

It was an ideal spot for a camp, elevated enough to afford a wide view in every direction.

No one could approach unseen, and thus far we had no evidence that our pursuers were even on our trail.

Only the crack of that single rifle shot the evening before had suggested that we were being followed--yet, even if this were true, the black hours since would have prevented any discovery of the direction of our night.