The two borderers, concealed in the thicket, watched the movements of the Indian with astonishment.
When he assumed the attitude of defense and drew again the knife, Boone nudged Kenton.
“He hears something,” he whispered.
“’Pears like it,” Kenton replied.
And as they watched the Shawnee, they, too, heard the sound of stealthy steps approaching them.
They noted that, as the steps approached, the face of the chief seemed to follow the direction of the steps.
At once the Indian-fighters guessed the truth; guessed that the terrible Wolf Demon, lurking in the thicket, was circling around the chief, eager to spring upon him unawares.
The stealthy steps came nearer and nearer to the concealed men.
Boone, stretched out so near to Kenton that he touched him, felt that the stout borderer was trembling like an aspen leaf; and, to speak the truth, the blood in Boone’s veins was running cold with horror.
There, not a dozen paces from them, within the thicket, they saw the terrible form of the Wolf Demon.