The fire and their narrow escape were still on his nerves.

His muscular fiber was not so enduring as that of Henry, and the wilderness did not make so keen an appeal to him.

Their hardships were beginning to weigh upon him and he thought all the time of Wareville, and the comfortable little log houses and the certain and easy supplies of food.

Henry knew what was on his comrade's mind but he did not upbraid him for weakness of spirit.

He, too, had memories of Wareville, and he pitied the grief of their people who must now be mourning them as lost forever.