He bent over the forms, kissed each in turn,
straightened up, and pointing to the eastward, said to Ben--"Go
dat way--you safe--goodbye."
"Goodbye," replied the lad, knowing it was useless to protest.
Like the gliding of the shadow of a cloud, the Delaware passed beyond
the circle of light thrown out by the fire into the deep gloom of
the wood. The moccasins pressed the dry leaves without giving back
any sound, and he vanished.
"That makes a change of situation," was the conclusion of Ben
Ripley; "he's gone, and I become the general of this army; there's
no telling what danger may be abroad tonight, so I will keep my
eyes open till sunrise, to make sure that no harm comes to these
folks."
And ten minutes after this decision the lad was as sound asleep as
his mother and the two little ones.
But there was One who did not slumber while all were unconscious.
He ever watches over His children, and,--though there were many
perils abroad that night, none of them came near our friends.
The camp fire which had been burning so brightly grew dimmer and
lower until the figures could hardly be seen. They gradually became
more indistinct, and finally the gloom was as deep as anywhere in
the dense woods. Only a few smouldering embers were left, and they
gave out no glow.
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