After many a weary hour’s march, the three came near to the village of Ke-ne-ha-ha.
Then they proceeded with increased caution. As yet they had not seen a single trace that denoted the presence of the Shawnees.
The scouts were now within some two miles of Chillicothe, where Ke-ne-ha-ha’s village was located.
Then Boone called a halt.
“Now, boys,” said the leader, “we are nigh to the red devils, an’ we must be careful or we’ll stumble upon some of ’em afore we knows it. I think our best plan is to find some hiding place to serve for a head-quarters, and then, separately, after dark, we’ll scout into the village, an’ maybe we’ll be able to discover some of the plans of the red varmints.”
“I know just the place for us,” said Lark. “We’re nigh to it, too.”
Then Lark piloted the way through the forest—the three had been standing by the bank of the Scioto—and at last halted by a huge oak tree, at the base of which grew a tangled mass of bushes.
“Hyer’s the spot,” said Lark, pointing to the tree.
“Whar?” asked Boone, who could not perceive any hiding-place except it was in the branches of the oak.
“Hyer.”