How long the Indian would have held his pose is doubtful, had not an unlooked for interruption occurred. Alden was trying to discern the countenance more clearly. He thought it was striped and daubed with paint, but the view was not distinct enough to make sure. Without intending to venture into the moonlight, the youth stepped softly aside and back a single pace in the effort to obtain another angle of view. In making the movement, he placed his foot directly over the mouth of Jethro Mix, and rested most of his weight on it before he could check himself.
“Gorrynation!” gasped the African, catching the offending shoe with both hands and struggling to free himself, “who frowed dat house on top of my head?”
“Shut up!” commanded Alden as he flirted his foot; “Why are you sleeping when you were placed here to watch for the Indians?”
“Who’s sleeping?” demanded Jethro, climbing heavily to his feet; “I war jest setting down to tie my shoestring when you come along and stepped on my head so it’s bent out ob plumb.”
“Look over the plain and tell me what you think of that,” said Alden impressively.
Startled by his words and manner, the African rubbed his eyes and did as directed, but failed to discover anything.
“I doan’ see nuffin,” he growled.
Nor did Alden. Everything was as when Jethro lay down. The sound of his voice must have been heard by the Indian, who vanished as suddenly as he had appeared. It was easy for Alden to understand that, but he could not comprehend why the redskin should have shown himself at all.
It was necessary to give some explanation to Jethro, but his young master had no purpose of telling everything.