So he started at once, walking fast, and feeling little
fear of a foe. It was not likely that any would be seeking him
at such a time. The rain struck him squarely in the face now.
Water came from his moccasins every time his foot was pressed
against the earth, and, no matter how closely he drew the folds
of the blanket, little streams of it, like ice to the touch,
flowed down his neck and made their way under his clothing. He
could not remember a time when he had felt more miserable.
He came in about an hour to the dip which, as he had surmised,
was the edge of a considerable valley. He ran down the slope,
and looked all about for some place of shelter, a thick windbreak
in the lee of a hill, or an outcropping of stone, but he saw
neither, and, as he continued the search, he came to marshy
ground. He saw ahead among the weeds and bushes the gleam of
standing pools, and he was about to turn back, when he noticed
three or four stones, in a row and about a yard from one another,
projecting slightly above the black muck. It struck him that the
stones would not naturally be in the soft mud, and, his curiosity
aroused, he stepped lightly from one stone to another.
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