He would have to wait until the moon rose, and even then it would be uncertain if he could keep it.
And then when he should come up with them it might be too late for him to strike a blow in their behalf.
The sun went down, and the last rays of its light died out of the forest.
The dusky shadows of evening took their place, stealing upon him almost before he was aware of their presence.
It was all that he could do to mark their footsteps now, among the withered leaves.
For once in his life the scout felt nervous, and fearful that he should not accomplish the work he had laid out for himself.
“I’d give a good deal for one more hour of daylight,” he muttered, to himself, as he made sure that he was going right by bending down close to the earth.
“Consarn it all, I bothered too long this morning. If I had thought that the red-skins had been up to this game, I would have been upon their heels before now.”
He went on, but slowly, until at last the darkness was so great that it was impossible longer to make out the trail.
“I’ve got to wait till the moon rises,” he said to himself. “’Tain’t no use to try and get on in this way. But what is that? A light ahead, as sure as I’m alive. Fortin ain’t deserted ye yet, Dick. But ye’ve got to keep yer eyes and ears open. You’ve got a work afore ye that it won’t do to blunder in. The red-skins will give more for yer scalp than they will for any other on the Scioto. You’ve got to mind, Dick, and keep it under yer cap and then it will be safe.”