"If he kept up the gait with which he started I should say he is about there."
"Now, don't speak till I give the word," said Kenton, in a low voice, "but listen with all your ears."
The entire party assumed attitudes of intense attention, and were rewarded sooner than they anticipated. Amid the profound stillness a sudden, sharp, twanging noise reached them, followed instantly by a smothered, gasping cry, and then all was still.
The party looked in one another's faces. No need of any one speaking a word, for all knew what those awful sounds meant.
Red Crow had driven an arrow into some dusky thief with such swiftness and force that he had no time to utter the proverbial yell of his race when he sank to the ground.
"Thar must have been only one of 'em," quietly remarked Kenton, "or thar would be more of a rumpus. He has started."
The sound of the animals laboring through the bushes and among the trees was plainly heard, and a minute later Red Crow appeared, leading the pioneer's horse, while that of his wife followed close behind.
It was agreed that no reference should be made by any one to the tragedy that had taken place so near them. They waited for Red Crow himself to tell the story, but though he was questioned quite closely, he never said a word.
"Arqu-wao," said Kenton, in the Shawanoe language, "you have a single tongue; you are a good Indian; now lead the way; we believe in you and will trust you to the death."
For the first time since the Shawanoe had joined them, his painted face gave evidence of emotion. He stood for several seconds with his eyes fixed on Kenton, who calmly confronted him. He was on the point of speaking, and once the boys, who were studying his countenance with curious interest, observed a movement of his thin lips, but he changed his mind and no words escaped him.