CHAPTER XX.
THE LONGEST WAY HOME.
The little party of fugitives occupied the position on the margin of the grain-field for an hour or so longer, discussing the past and arranging their plans for the immediate future. As they had the time, the Mohawk took pains to explain some of his movements made on the other side of the river, and also when they were engaged in stealing across, which movements none of the party understood at the time. It was necessary at this stage of the proceedings for all to comprehend as fully as possible the plans that were now to be followed in the game, where the stakes were life itself.
Lena-Wingo assured them that with the coming of daylight the Iroquois would use every exertion to capture them, as it had also become a matter of pride on their part to outwit the Mohawk, with whom they were really making the fight. Some of them would hunt and follow the trail of the party, and every approach to the Wilkesbarre fortifications would be guarded by their best warriors. Such being the case, Ned and Jo were more convinced than ever that their plan of giving up this method was wise, but they said nothing, for they knew it was useless.
While they were talking the growing light in the eastern horizon apprised them that day was near, and that it was unsafe to wait longer. All instantly rose to their feet, looking upon the face of the warrior for direction as to what they were to do. Before he could speak, the sound of a rifle was heard, causing a start of alarm on the part of his companions. The latter noticed that the direction of the report was from the river, and, as it seemed, from the very spot where they had left it.
"What is the meaning of that?" asked Ned. "Can it have—"
Bang! bang! bang! came several other reports in quick succession, showing that something serious was going on. Every voice was hushed, and they looked in each other's faces, and then stared at the Mohawk as if they would read the explanation in his painted countenance. At the first glance there was nothing that could give them a clue on those bronzed features, as seen in the early light of the morning. The Indian was also listening and waiting till he could hear and learn more before saying anything. The firing lasted until it sounded as if a skirmish was going on close at hand. Could it be that a party of fugitive patriots was engaged in a fight with a lot of Tories and Indians?
When the firing had continued in a desultory way for several minutes, the whites caught the sound of whoops, showing that the redmen had a part in the trouble. The instant these cries fell on the ears of the Mohawk, his dark face lit up with a gleam of satisfaction, the expression of delight being noticed by all.
"What is it, Lena-Wingo?" asked Rosa. "Are they Iroquois and white folks that are fighting?"
"No, not that."