Waring began to comprehend matters. Still he replied:
"You are some distance from the river, remember, and neither you nor Virginia could get to this spot without leaving a trail which these Indians could follow without the least difficulty."
"S'powse they didn't know where to look for the same."
"That may all be," replied Waring, somewhat petulantly, "and yet what I say is true. They are constantly ranging through the wood, and it is by no means improbable that the traces of your passage is discovered. But let us cease talking for the present."
The two listened for several moments, when hearing nothing further, the Irishman cautiously arose, and commenced peering around him. Ere he had half turned his head, he suddenly dropped to the ground again, with a suppressed exclamation:
"He's right out there!" he whispered.
"Where? Who is there? What do you mean?"
"A bloody big Shawanoe, in his war paint, leaning against a tree out there."
Imitating the motion of Pat Mulroony, Waring descried the savage in question, standing as he had remarked. His back was turned toward the whites, so that it was impossible to discern his features. He was rather tall in stature, and appeared to have his arms folded, as if he were exhausted.