Some hours before dawn Robin Gore came to an abrupt pause, and looking
over his shoulder, held up his hand to command silence. Then he pointed
to a small mound, on the top of which a faint glow of light was seen
falling on the boughs of the shrubs, with which it was crowned.
The moon had just set, but there was sufficient light left to render
surrounding objects pretty distinct.
"That's them," said Robin to Walter, in a low whisper, as the latter
came close to his side; "no doubt they're sound asleep, an' I'm puzzled
how to wake 'em up without givin' 'em a fright."
"Musha! it's a fright that Wapaw will give _us_, av we start him
suddenly, for he's murtherin' quick wi' his rifle," whispered Larry.
"We'd better hide and then give a howl," suggested Stiff, "an', after
they're sot up, bring 'em down with a familiar hail."
The deliberations of the party were out short and rendered unnecessary,
however, by Wapaw himself. That sharp-eared red man had been startled
by the breaking of a branch which Larry O'Dowd chanced to set his foot
on, and, before Robin had observed their fire, he had roused Roy and
Nelly and hurried with them to the summit of a rocky eminence, from
which stronghold they now anxiously watched the proceedings of the
hunters. The spot to which they had fled for refuge was almost
impregnable, and might have been held for hours by a couple of resolute
men against a host of savages.
Robin, after a little further consultation, resolved to send the Black
Swan in advance to reconnoitre. This he did, contrary to his wonted
custom of taking the lead in everything, because of an unaccountable
feeling of dread lest he should not find his children there.
Black Swan at once stepped cautiously forward with his rifle, ready
cocked, in the hollow of his left arm, and his finger on the
trigger-guard. Step by step he moved towards the encampment without
making the slightest noise, and with so little motion that he might
easily have been mistaken for a dark shadow. Raising his head over the
edge of the encampment he gazed earnestly into it, then he advanced
another pace or two, finally he stepped into it, and, standing erect,
looked around him. With a wave of his hand he summoned his comrades to
advance. Robin Gore's heart beat hard as he approached, followed by the
others.
Meanwhile they were closely watched by Roy and Wapaw. When the Black
Swan's head appeared, Roy exclaimed in a whisper, "An Injun--d'ye know
him, Wapaw?"
"He is one of our tribe, I think," replied the Indian, in the same low
voice, "but I know him not; the light of the fire is not strong."
"If he's one o' your tribe," said Roy, "it's all up with us, for they
won't be long o' findin' us here. Keep close to me, Nell. I'll stick
by you, lass, don't fear."
Wapaw's brows lowered when he saw the Black Swan step into the
encampment, and make the signal to his comrades to advance. He raised
his rifle, and took deliberate aim at his heart.
"Roy," he whispered, "get an arrow ready, aim at the next man that steps
into the light and let fly; I'll not fire till after you, for the smoke
would blind you."
Roy obeyed with a trembling hand. Notwithstanding the rough life he had
led in those wild woods of the West, he had never yet been called on to
lift his hand against a human being, and the thought of taking life in
this deliberate and almost murderous way caused him to shudder; still he
felt that their case was desperate, and he nerved himself to the deed.
Another moment, and Robin stood beside the Black Swan. Roy tried to
raise his bow, but his heart failed him. Wapaw glanced at him, and said
sternly--
"Shoot first."
At that moment Obadiah Stiff stepped into the encampment, and, stirring
the embers of the fire with a piece of stick, caused a bright flame and
showers of sparks to shoot upwards. This revealed the fact that some of
the party were white men, so Wapaw lowered his rifle. A single glance
of his practised eye told him who they were. Laying his hand suddenly
and heavily on Roy's shoulder he pressed him down.
"Come, let us go," he said quickly; "I must see these men alone, and you
must keep close--you _must not look_."
He said the latter words with emphasis; but in order to make sure that
they should not have a chance of looking, he led his young companions to
a point whence the encampment could not be seen, and left them there
with strict injunctions not to quit the spot until he should return.
In a few seconds Wapaw stepped into the circle of light where Robin and
his party were all assembled, and so rapid and noiseless had his
movement been, that he was in the midst of them almost before they were
aware of his approach.
"Wapaw!" exclaimed Walter in surprise, "why, you seem to have dropped
from the clouds."
"Sure it's a ghost ye must be," cried Larry. The Indian took no notice
of these remarks, but turned to Robin, who, with a look of deep anxiety,
said--
"Have 'ee seed the childer, Wapaw?"
"They are safe," answered the Indian.
"Thank God for that!" cried Robin, while a sigh of relief burst from
him: "I believe ye, Wapaw, yer a true man an' wouldn't tell me a lie,
would ye?"
The tone in which the hunter said this implied that the statement was
scarcely a true index to his feelings, and that he would be glad to hear
Wapaw assure him that he was indeed telling the truth. But this Indian
was a man of truthfulness, and did not deem it necessary to repeat his
assertion. He said, however, that he would go and fetch the children,
and immediately quitted the camp. Soon after he returned with Roy and
Nelly; he had not told them, however, who the strangers were.
When Roy first caught sight of his father he gave a shout of surprise,
and stood still as if he were bewildered. Nelly uttered a wild scream,
and rushed forward with outstretched arms. Robin met her more than half
way, and the next moment folded his long-lost little one to his bosom.