By the light of the two torches Joe saw all of the Indians assembled, with their captives and their bundles between them. He allowed his own little canoe to drift past the landing and then came ashore in the midst of some brushwood overhanging the stream.
By making a détour the young pioneer presently came to the rear of the enemy. He found that they were going into something of a camp and that they had already tied the two captives to separate trees some eight or ten feet apart. Between the two trees squatted a young warrior, placed on guard over the whites.
Scarcely daring to breathe, Joe crept closer and closer until he was less than five yards away from where his father stood, hands and feet fastened to the tree by means of a stout grass rope. For the present he did not dare go closer, but, lying full length in the grass, watched the Indians as a hawk watches a brood of chickens.
The red men were much interested in the contents of the bundles brought hither in the first canoe. Torches were stuck up in convenient places and the bundles were unrolled, revealing to Joe many of the smaller articles which the pioneers had been bringing westward on their pack horses. There was a dress belonging to his mother, a pair of slippers belonging to his sister Harmony, and a razor that he knew belonged to his father. The sight of the razor tickled the fancy of one of the Indians, and flourishing it in the air he approached Pep Frost and made a motion as if to cut the throat of the old pioneer.
“Oh, I reckon ye air ekel to it,” snorted Pep Frost. “You are a cowardly, miserable lot at the best!”
There was a small mirror in one of the bundles, and this pleased the red men more than did any other object. Running up to a torch, one after another would gaze into the mirror with expressions of wonder and admiration. Even the young warrior on guard wanted to look into the glass.
For the moment the prisoners were forgotten and, struck with a sudden determination, Joe crawled close up behind his father and cut the grass rope that bound the parent. Then he placed one of the guns into Mr. Winship’s hand.
“It is I, Joe,” whispered the boy. “Wait till I free Pep Frost.”
“Be quick, and be careful,” returned the astonished man in an equally low tone. And he added: “Are you alone?”
“Yes.”