Long before they reached this point, the scout had become satisfied that they were too late, and that if they accomplished their object they had got to do it under more difficulties than had yet beset them.
They had got to penetrate into the very lodge of Rushing Water, which stood perhaps in the very heart of the village.
There would not be time to accomplish this to-night, even if it could be done successfully.
They must lie quiet somewhere in the depth of the forest and wait until the darkness of another night.
They followed the trail almost to the verge of the village, so impatient were his companions to rescue Ruth if the thing lay in their power; and then convinced that it did not, in the remaining hours of that night at least, they were ready to comply with what the scout had to propose.
This was that they should retire back from the village for something like a mile and lie through the day in some darksome covert, where there would be little likelihood of their being discovered by the savages.
This plan was now carried into effect and by the time the day had fairly broke they were snugly ensconced in their hiding-place.
The sun rose above the tree-tops, giving promise of a beautiful day, and over and over again did they wish that Ruth was with them that they might be hurrying toward a place of safety instead of lying idly there.
Fears that she would never be restored to them oppressed the heart of the mother. The chief had her now securely in his power and how were they ever to tear her from his clutches?
It seemed impossible to her that so few of them could do it.