"But how does he manage to move himself then?"
"Bless your soul, he doesn't do it: there's a Wyandot behind that stump at his head, and he's taking a hitch at him whenever the moon gives him a show."
Ned Preston was astonished, for the truth had never occurred to him. Jo added—
"I've catched a glimpse of him once or twice, as he darted from one stump to another. He came from the river bank, and I could have picked him off, but I knowed what he's arter, and it's a principle with the Colonel and me, never to interfere with the varmints when they want to bury their dead."
Ned Preston was greatly relieved to hear this, but the two said nothing to the others, through fear that Megill or Turner would not be so considerate of the wishes of the Colonel, whose authority over them was more nominal than actual.
The Wyandot who had taken on himself the duty of carrying away the body of his fallen companion, seemed to acquire confidence from his success. While Ned and Stinger were watching his movements, and while the moon shone with unobstructed light, they saw the body drawn entirely behind the stump, where, after some maneuvering, the warrior partly straightened up, holding the burden over his shoulders and back.
Then he sped with surprising quickness for the river bank, down which he vanished with the load.
His work was done, and the deliverer doubtless believed he had outwitted the whites, who could have shot him without difficulty as he ran.
Colonel Preston, and indeed all the garrison, were constantly expecting the shower of burning arrows, and, because they were delayed, no one dared hope the Wyandots had given over the intention of burning them out of their refuge.
When Ned grew weary of scanning the clearing with its uncertain light, he walked to the northern side of the room which commanded a view of one portion of the stockade.