“And there is an Indian,” put in Dave, pointing to another portion of the post defense.
Try their best they could see no others on guard. The Frenchman and the Indian walked up and down slowly, stopping every few minutes to peer through one loophole or another.
“The others must be asleep,” whispered Joseph Morris. “If so we may be able to surprise them completely.”
In a few minutes all of the party were out of the tunnel. Several looked into the stable and storehouse, to find both empty, saving for stores, pelts, and horses.
“Let us move to the main building,” whispered Joseph Morris. “At the first sign of an outbreak, fire on them and show them no quarter.”
“They need expect no quarter from me, Jean Bevoir especially,” answered Dave, grimly.
The entrance to the main building was gained, and still they caught sight of nobody but the two guards near the stockade. Softly the door was pushed open and Sam Barringford entered, followed by Joseph Morris and Dave and Henry.
A bright fire burnt in the big open chimney, casting a ruddy glare around the room. In front of the fire, on the floor, lay an Indian, snoring lustily. On a couch in a corner rested a Frenchman, also asleep.
Without awaking the sleepers, Dave and Henry glided into the sleeping room of the post. Here it was dark, and they had to go slow, for fear of arousing somebody. They felt their way from bunk to bunk, listening intently and putting forth cautious hands. Then they tiptoed their way back to the main room.
“The bunks are empty!” whispered Dave, and Henry nodded.