In short, our friends interpreted it as a notice from the dusky scout to his comrades that he was following the progress of the pioneers, which was therefore fully understood by the war party that was seeking to encompass their destruction.
When the signal sounded for the fourth time, the rangers seated on the fallen tree looked in each other's faces without speaking. Then Kenton asked, in his guarded undertone:
"What do you make of it, Dan'l?"
"There's only one thing to make of it; them Shawanoes are keeping track of every movement of the folks behind us, and we can't hinder' em."
"How many of the varmints are playing the spy?"
"There may be one, and there may be a dozen."
This answer, of necessity, was guess-work, for there was no possible means of determining the number, since the hostiles in front so regulated their progress that not a glimpse had been caught of the almost invisible trail left by them.
And yet the matter was not wholly conjecture, after all.
"Dan'l," said Kenton, with a significant smile, "there's more than one of 'em, and you and me know it."
The older smiled in turn and nodded his head.