"Begorrah, but how are we going to manage it after all?" queried the Irishman, with great surprise.
"Wait until darkness, when we will run little chance of being seen by those who are evidently watching for us."
"And how will we find the way to the village, if you've no objection to tell, as that long-legged Hezekiah used to say, when he asked a question of us."
"Easily enough by following the river. As the settlement is upon the banks of the Ohio, we surely shall discover it if we do not stray off into the woods."
"Begorrah, but that's the plan fur yees."
It was decided that the best course was for them to be on the move at once, provided they could do so without incurring any additional danger. The way to the river appeared to be the least frequented by their foes and his plan was to approach this as near as convenient, and follow closely its bank, keeping carefully under the cover of the shrubbery and dense undergrowth.
The river could be reached in half an hour at least, provided no unexpected obstacle should present itself, and, with Waring taking the lead, the three set out.
The gallant guide could not restrain his misgivings, as he cautiously stole through the woods, and, more than once, he debated with himself whether it was not best to turn back, and wait for the cover of darkness before attempting to reach the settlement.
They had gone scarcely half the distance, when a paint-bedaubed Shawanoe was discerned coming toward them. Signalling to those behind him, Waring sank down to the ground, and, clutching the handle of his knife, breathlessly awaited his approach.
The head of the savage was bent, as though he was searching the ground for something, and he was walking slowly, little dreaming that the very ones he was so anxious to discover, were so nigh him. As fortunately, indeed for himself, as for the whites, he changed his direction, and, in a few moments, was out of sight.