This floor was made mainly of boughs, broken up fine, and dead leaves, but it did not admit water, and the furs and skins were warm.

In one corner of the place grew up a store of dried venison and buffalo meat, over which Jim Hart watched jealously.
All of the cooking was done at night, but in the open, in a kind of rude oven that Jim Hart built of loose stones, and never did food taste better in the mouth of a hungry youth than it did in that of Paul.

The air was growing much colder.

Paul, who was in the habit of taking a dip in the lake every night, found the waters so chill now that he could not stay in long, although the bath was wonderfully invigorating.

Whenever the wind blew the dead leaves fell in showers, and Paul knew he would soon be deeply thankful they had the hut as a retreat.
About ten days after their return Henry came back from a scout around the Miami village, and he brought news of interest.
"Braxton Wyatt is still there," he said, "and he is so mixed up that he does not know just what to do for the present.