Hardly were our friends flat than several Indians came in that direction, each carrying a bundle, the same that had been opened and inspected the night before. They passed within fifty feet of the whites, but without discovering their presence.
“That was a close shave,” whispered Joe when the last of the red men had finally disappeared in the vicinity of some rocks to the northward.
“Reckon they are striking out for some sort o’ shelter,” said Pep Frost. “I’m mighty glad on it, too,” he added thoughtfully.
“Why?” asked Harry.
“Thar was three o’ ’em, lad, an’ thet means three less down by the river a-guardin’ the prisoners.”
“To be sure,” cried the young pioneer. “I wish some more would come this way.”
The storm was now on them in all of its fury. There was no thunder or lightning, but the rain came down in sheets, and they were glad enough when the shelter of the forest was gained once more. They were now close to the river, and in a few minutes reached the spot where Joe had landed in the borrowed canoe. The craft still lay hidden where the young pioneer had left it.
“The canoe may come in very useful, should we wish to escape in a hurry,” said Ezra Winship.
While the others remained at the water’s edge, Pep Frost went forward once again on the scout. Joe begged to be taken along, but the old pioneer demurred.
“No use on it, lad, an’, besides, it’s risky. Sence you helped us to git away them Injuns is sure to be on stricter guard nor ever.”