"Let us throw it up in a tree," suggested Dave, and they did so. But it was the last they ever saw of the game, for coming back for it proved out of the question.
They started back for the sugar camp with all speed. Rodney was willing to have Dave go ahead, but the latter declared he would not leave his cousin alone. He let the former cripple set the pace and, of course, kept by his side with ease.
Their sudden appearance at the camp caused surprise and there was consternation when they told what they had seen.
"Yes, we must get back at once—delay is dangerous," said one of the men in the camp. "Come, let us pack up right now." And he set to work and the others joined. By three o'clock in the afternoon the return to Will's Creek was begun, a settler named Buswick going ahead as a vidette, to see that the way was clear.
The whole party was less than a mile from the first cabin at Will's Creek when they heard shots and shouts at a distance, and Buswick came running back with news that half a dozen Indians were in sight.
"They've got their war-paint on," he said. "They mean business this time."
"Are they coming this way?" asked Dave.
"I can't say as to that—at least, not yet. I thought I had best report to onct," answered the settler.
Along the side of the trail was a deep gully, and finding the Indians were coming closer, the whites crawled down into this hollow and hid among the bushes. The men might have offered battle, but did not wish to do so because of the women and children.
It was not long after this that the Indians came along the path and passed close to where the party was in hiding. They were nine in number and all hideous in their war-paint. Little Nell kept tight hold of her brother's arm. She was resting directly between Rodney and Dave, and both silently vowed that they would save her from harm or perish in the attempt.