Fred Wainwright took his station near the wagon which contained the sleeping Florence Brandon, and to him no occupation could have been more delightful than thus to watch by the side of her whom he loved,—yes, madly loved: he confessed it, standing there alone in the gloom of the night. This girl, who little imagined that Fred Wainwright was not Fred Wainwright—but——ah! well, perhaps the past was to be a dream and perhaps not. At any rate his duty just there was to stand guard over the fair being who occupied his waking and sleeping thoughts to the exclusion of almost everything else.
Not a minute’s sleep visited the eyes of the Trappers of the Gila, through that same summer night. They passed from point to point, continually moving through the train, among the wagons, and once or twice, one or two of them passed out upon the prairie and scrutinized every point visible.
The night was semi-dark,—a faint moon rising high in the sky, now and then obscured by the passing clouds. Occasionally the vision was able to penetrate for several hundred yards, and then it was restricted to a fifth of that distance.
Leonidas Swipes had scented the danger, and declared that he would also keep guard during the night; for he could not consent to run any risk of losing the intended head of the female department of the Fort Mifflin Institute. He averred that his sense of hearing was so acute that he could instantly detect the approach of any creature,—no matter if it was a weasel, or the tiny serpent that sometimes moves among the grass.
Mr. Swipes took his position just in the rear of the large white-covered wagon in which Florence Brandon was sleeping, all unconscious of the faithful guardianship which was kept over her. Here he leaned against the heavy rear wheel, and gave himself up to cogitation.
The young hunter, toward the middle of the night, made a circuit of the encampment; and, as he came back, observed the figure of the man leaning against the wagon, and concluded to test the extreme watchfulness of which he had boasted. Walking rather lightly, therefore, he approached him from behind, and, finding he attracted no attention, he stepped more heavily until he was making more than usual noise. Still the vigilant sentinel did not turn his head, and Fred noticed that he was muttering something to himself.
“No doubt she’ll be just the ticket, I swan if she won’t; but to wake her now, or to wait till morning is the question. I’d have a better chance to talk it over with her, and by jingo! I’ve a good notion to give the wagon a rattle so as to wake her up——Injins! Injins!”
At that instant, the heavy hand of the young hunter grasped the Yankee’s shoulder, and, fully assured that he was in the power of the dreaded Cherouka, he sprang several feet from the ground, and shouted at the top of his voice; but, confronting Wainwright, and immediately comprehending his mistake, added in fully as loud a tone,
“No Injins! No Injins! I was mistaken! Jingo! what’s the use of scaring a fellow that way?” he demanded, still shivering from the shock he had received.
“I didn’t know you were so easily frightened.”