Haverland looked searchingly at him, and he saw there was a deep meaning behind these words, yet he said nothing, and led the way toward the river.
This stream was but a few hundred yards from the house, and flowed in a northerly and southerly direction. It was very smooth at this point, and not very wide, yet a mile or so farther down, it debouched into a large, broad, and deep river. The banks were lined, most of the distance, by close, impenetrable shrubbery, overreached by lofty trees, which were the edges of the almost interminable wilderness that then covered this part of the State, and of which great portions remain unto the present day.
Haverland moved to a spot where he had often stood and conversed with his wife, when they first entered the place. Resting his rifle upon the earth, and folding his arms over the muzzle, he turned around and looked Seth full in the face.
“What did you mean, by telling me not to go far from the house?”
“Jest hole on a bit,” replied Seth, bending his ear as if to listen. Haverland watched him earnestly, and he also heard something unusual—as if some one were rowing a canoe in the water. His companion then stepped down to the water’s edge, and signalized for him to approach. Haverland did so, and looked down the river. Some hundred yards off he saw a canoe rapidly moving down stream, impelled by the oars of three Indians!
“That is what I meant,” said he in a whisper, stepping back.
“Did you see them?” asked Haverland.
“I reckon I did. They were at the spring, watching for your gal to come, so that they mought run off with her.”