The Indian was cunning. Instead of bringing his crown into sight, it sank out of sight again.
Larry was standing with his gaze centred on the point where he had just seen the object, his gun loaded and ready to fire the instant a fair target was presented, when it shot up like a jack-in-the-box a dozen feet to one side, immediately dropping out of view again.
The movement was so quick that the painted face had appeared and vanished before Larry could shift his aim.
The Shawanoe must have known that some one was awaiting a favorable chance to serve him as the warrior was served who attempted to leap the gorge.
"It saams to me," growled the disappointed Larry, "that every one I'm getting acquainted wid is up to some of his tricks. Why couldn't that spalpeen have showed himself where he made me expect him? It would be just like some of 'em to sneak across above or below, where I can't head 'em off. I wonder what's become of Whart?"
CHAPTER VIII.
A CHAT.
It was like approaching a sleeping tiger, likely at any moment to bound to his feet and rend the helpless victim, and Wharton Edwards, despite his well-proved courage, felt a misgiving as he drew near the terrible Shawanoe.
Blazing Arrow in falling held the rifle fast so long as his senses remained with him; but when he came near splitting the tree trunk with his head, the weapon flew several feet away. This happened to be the side farthest from Wharton, who, therefore, was forced to walk around him in order to secure the gun.