“That tells it,” said Scarred Eagle, pausing. “The skunks think they’ve got us caged, an’ now we must work fast. Ar’ ye sure ye killed the tretor, Mace?”
The sudden question made the men glance into each other’s faces in surprise.
“The blow I gin ’im orter done it,” answered Mace, with a savage imprecation. “I didn’t hev any time ter look close.”
“I’m ’fear’d ye didn’t,” said the veteran scout. “Least wise, he must ’a’ lived long enough ter told some on ’em whar our bivouac was. But, thar’s no time ter talk of that, now. We must siperate. ’Tain’t more’n half a mile to the p’int of shore where the canoe’s hid. You, Goodbrand, take Hill and Revel with ye, an’ bring the canoe ter the place ye know of nigh the village. Me an’ Mace’ll go stret through an’ git thar long enough afore ye to see what’s to be done. Hicks an’ Tim’ll stay behind an—”
“Divil a fut behint!” interrupted the Irishman, stoutly. “No, be gobs! Phat’ll I stay behint for? I’ll take me share in the worst as well as the best, so!”
“Ef by the wust ye mean denger, ye’ll find enough o’ that, both on ye,” said Scarred Eagle. “This hyur neighboorhood ’ll be thoroughly s’arched by mornin’. Ef, in the course of two hours after the rest are gone, you an’ Hicks sh’u’d be convinced these devils war goin’ back toward the village, it’ll be y’ur part ter draw ’em back, so’s to give us a better chance to work for the boy.”
“A chance, is it? Pwhat c’u’d the two of us alone do?”
“I needn’t say thar’s no time to lose, Tim,” said the other, “an’ I trust ye won’t hender us.”
“I’ll sthay,” said Tim, spitefully. “Ownly—look now: suppose yees all git in dthe lurch! S’posin’ yees all fail! Dthat’s it—how are we to know?”
“By comin’ to a place that I’ve told Hicks of,” said Scarred Eagle. “We’ll have the boy out o’ thar clutches afore three hours, I hope. Keep a sharp look-out about here. Ef ye should ondertake to draw ’em after ye, take good care ye don’t git nabbed y’urselves. You’ll find y’ur task dengerous enough.”