Where was Sebastian? was the question he asked himself, as he looked furtively about. "Can it be that those two Comanches have slain him, and his dead body is somewhere at hand?"
He stood irresolute a moment, debating whether to begin the search or not, when a low, cautiously-uttered whistle reached his ear. Suspecting that it was a signal from some Indian to another, he stepped further back in the shadow, and cocked his rifle, determined to shoot the first red-skin that showed himself.
The whistle was repeated, and finally Crockett ventured to answer it. He had scarcely done so when a figure appeared in the path before him whom he at once recognized as Sebastian, the Texan.
The two met and clasped hands in the moonlight like old friends.
"Where are they?" was the first whispered question of Crockett.
"I do not know; I have seen and heard nothing of them since I left there this afternoon."
"How long have you been here?"
"Over an hour. What kept you?"
The hunter gave a concise account of what I have already made known to my readers, and then asked him his experience.
"I reached here as quick as I could, after leaving you," replied the young Texan, "but the boat I expected to find here was gone, so I went down the creek about a mile, where I found it caught in some bushes."