"Fetch on your rattler—hic," stuttered Jim, who was about to add some more remarks when he gave it up and toppled over on the ground, deferring all such observations to a more convenient season.
It assumed an almost grotesque phase, and sounds incredible when it is stated that this pretended rattlesnake bite was solely for the purpose of deceiving the members of the Shawanoe war party that were swarming through the woods, yet not only was such the fact, but the scheme, singular as it was, met the approval of Daniel Boone and Simon Kenton, whose judgment in such matters all will admit should be accepted as final.
Meanwhile, Hastings was anxiously consulting with Ashbridge, Altman, and his own men.
The situation was grave to the last degree, and the crisis could not be far off.
"We don't need to wait here more'n half an hour," said he, "and may be not that long; then, when we start, night'll be fully here afore we reach the gulch."
"And the Indians have been deceived as to our purpose?" was the inquiring remark of Mr. Ashbridge.
"There's no sartinty of that, but it looks that way."
"But the most alarming feature of this business, as it seems to me," continued the pioneer, "is this: the time must soon come when these Shawanoes will learn we do not mean to pass through that valley of death."
Hastings nodded his head. He had thought of all this, as well as of the complications that were likely to follow.
"How long after we make our pause will they suspect the truth?"