When the chase was over they came back to the tree, with the intention of getting the dead 'possum, which they meant to cook for their supper.

To their astonishment no 'possum was there--neither in the tree, nor the briar-patch beside it, nor anywhere! The sly creature had been "playing 'possum" throughout all that terrible worrying; and, finding the coast clear, had "unclewed" herself, and stolen off to her hiding-place under the roots of some neighbouring tree! Nothing remained but the body of the lynx and the poor little carcass of the hare.

The former none of our adventurers cared to eat, although it is often eaten both by the trappers and Indians--and the latter was so torn and chawed as to render it worthless.

So, since no other game--not even a squirrel--could be found about the place, all four--Lucien, Basil, Francois, and _Marengo_, went to sleep--for the first time since the commencement of their journey--_supperless_!.