The encampment of the red men was along the bank of the watercourse next to the hill occupied by the whites. Here several wigwams had been temporarily erected and here two camp-fires had just been started. On a slight rise of ground lay several bundles of goods which belonged to the ill-fated pioneers, and not far away several horses and mules were tethered.
But the gaze of those on the ridge of the hill was not directed to the Indians, the bundles, or the horses, but to the captives, who were in a group by themselves not far from one of the wigwams.
The captives were six in number—two women, two girls, and two men, one of the latter just grown to manhood. Each was bound, and it was plain to see that each had suffered much since being taken a prisoner.
“I see Cora!” exclaimed Joe in a low voice. “Do you see mother?”
“I do not,” answered Ezra Winship, and the tone of his voice showed keen disappointment.
“That other girl is Dorothy Reasoner, and the two women are Mrs. Landrop and Mrs. Gellott,” went on the boy.
“The men are old Hank Kassoway and young Paul Broker, the young fellow they said looked like you, Joe.”
“Do you suppose they have any other captives, father?”
“There may be some in one of the wigwams, but it is doubtful.”
Word was now passed along that the hunters must be silent, and for some minutes not a word was spoken.