Soon, the form of the Shawanoe was discerned through the intricacies of the bushes, and the fugitives, sinking down to the earth, kept their eyes intently fixed upon him. From his manner, it was plain he was searching for something, although whether that something was our friends or some other object, they had no means of determining. He kept his head down most of the time, occasionally looking up with a puzzled, curious expression, at which time, so close was he, that the black pupils of his basilisk eyes were plainly visible to the whites.
A remarkable fact in regard to this Indian was, that he had no rifle with him, and nothing except a knife carried in his girdle. This, however, did not make him a less dangerous personage to the fugitives, should they be discovered. A single yell from him would bring a horde of the redskins upon them before even they could extricate themselves from the bushes which sheltered them.
What pen shall describe the emotions of the fugitives as they saw the Shawanoe lower his eyes, and gaze straight through the bushes at them—so straight, in fact, that Waring, who was nearest the river, felt confident that he was looking directly at him.
Still, he uttered no sound, and gave no evidence that he had discovered anything unusual in the undergrowth before him, although Waring could not comprehend how such could be the case, for the gaze of the Indian was fixed steady and penetrating.
Suddenly, the young man heard a movement behind him. He dared not turn his head, but he suspected the meaning of it. It was soon explained by the barrel of the Irishman's rifle appearing beside him. "Whist, till I blow the haythen to the divil!" he whispered, as he cocked it. Waring would not run the risk of reply; his words might be heard by other ears than those for which they were intended. He placed the muzzle of the gun against his side, and held it there firmly, so that it could not be discharged without killing him. Pat Mulroony understood this mute appeal, and relinquished his intention of shooting the savage.
All at once, the Shawanoe gave forth a guttural "Ugh!" and approached the fugitives. Pat tugged at the rifle, but Waring would not loosen his grasp. Just as he was about to do so, under the belief that the critical moment had arrived, the Indian stopped and drew something from the bushes. Relief unspeakable! it was a canoe, and the whites still remained undiscovered.
Picking the frail vessel bodily from the ground, the Shawanoe carried it to the water's edge, when, depositing it in the water, he seated himself in it, and paddled away.
"That Indian had the narrowest escape of his life!" remarked Waring, when he had gone.
"Ye spake the truth there," added Pat Mulroony, "and be the same token, ye had the same narry 'scape yerself. I was on the p'int of aiming at the haythen several times through you, and letting daylight through ye both."
Virginia looked horror-struck at the words of the Irishman, noticing which, he whispered to her, (so loud, however, that Waring also caught the words:)