CHAPTER XXVII.
WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?
As soon as Worrell found himself on the outside of the cavern, he walked rapidly for a hundred yards or so, taking a direction at right angles to that which he followed when conducting the fugitives to the retreat. His gait became almost a run until he reached an elevation, when he paused, as if to make a survey of a portion of the country spread out below him.
"The sun is almost overhead," he muttered, as he looked up to the sky with an impatient expression, "and I am all of an hour behind time, but this is one of them things that can't be fixed just as you want it, and I don't see why it should make any difference."
He was gazing at the section which lay spread out at his feet, and was between him and the Susquehanna. His eyes first roved in a quick, restless way over the broad stretch of woods and clearings, as if seeking for some object upon which to rest. At the end of a few minutes, his gaze became fixed upon a place where stood a small house in the middle of a clearing. It evidently belonged to one of the settlers in the Wyoming valley, who had been smitten with the panic which drove so many from their homes, and had fled without taking any of his stock with him, or destroying his property to prevent it falling into the hands of the enemy.
The manner of Worrell showed that he awaited some person or signal in connection with this house, but he was disappointed. The tomb itself could not have been more deserted and desolate, and he gazed until sure there was nothing on or about it which was intended for his eye.
"That's the way it always is," he muttered. "I have got everything fixed just as I promised, and now they turn up missing at the very time they ought to be on hand. I suppose I've got to hunt 'em up, and that may take me till dark, by which time that Mohawk will put in his oar."
He spent a few more minutes searching for something which did not appear. Then he advanced to a small tree that grew on the edge of the open space where he had halted, and drawing a large red handkerchief from his pocket, bent down a small sapling and tied the silk to it. As the little tree flew back to its upright position, there was enough breeze to make the signal rise and float in the wind. The man stood off a few paces, and watched it.