They were twenty miles from any post-office but shortly discovered
one. Letters in cipher were soon passing between them and their
confederates. They learned there was no prospect of getting the
ransom. He they had thought rich was not able to raise the money
they required or any large sum. Two years went by, and they
abandoned hope. What should they do with the boy? One advised
murder, but the other defended him. It was unnecessary, he
maintained, to kill a mere baby, who knew not a word of English,
and would forget all in a month. And murder would only increase
their peril. Now eight miles from their cave was the cabin of a
settler. They passed within a mile of it on their way out and in.
They had often met the dog of the settler roving after small
game--a shepherd, trustful, affectionate, and ever ready to make
friends. One day they captured the dog and took him to their cave.
They could not safely be seen with the boy, so they planned to let
the dog go home with him in the little red sleigh. Now the
settler's cabin was like that of my father, on the shore of a pond.
It was round, as a cup's rim, and a mile or so in diameter.
Opposite the cabin a trail came to the water's edge, skirting the
pond, save in cold weather, when it crossed the ice.
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