“I suppose they’ve sint in their account till they’re tired. Finding yer doesn’t pay any attention, they’ve come to take him back again.”
“Are you sure that it was done by the Indians?” asked Fred, a little frightened at learning that they had been so close while he slept.
“Thar ain’t a bit of doubt. I’ve looked the ground over, and thar’s the trail, as plain as the nose on your face.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
“And they did it during the night?”
“No,” replied the scout, displaying his wonderful woodcraft. “The varmints come yesterday arternoon, or just at dusk, arter I’d took supper and left.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’d be a fool if I couldn’t tell by the look of the trail how long ago it war made.”
It seemed impossible that such was the fact, and yet, young as was Fred, he had heard of such things, and the scout spoke after the manner of one who meant what he said.