Some one had unlaced his hunting-shirt--for he saw the strings were not as he usually tied them--and had dressed the wound.

Joe decided, after some deliberation, that Whispering Winds had found him, made him as comfortable as possible, and, leaving Mose on guard, had gone out to hunt for food, or perhaps back to the Indian encampment.

The rifle and horns he had taken from Girty's hut, together with Silvertip's knife, lay beside him.
As Joe lay there hoping for Whispering Winds' return, his reflections were not pleasant.

Fortunate, indeed, he was to be alive; but he had no hope he could continue to be favored by fortune.

Odds were now against his escape.