CHAPTER XLIII.
Gravity Gimp and Lieutenant Fred Godfrey were in high spirits, for each had been highly favored by fortune. They were beyond sight of the camp-fire and had thrown the pursuing Iroquois off the track, so that, with ordinary care, they were out of personal danger.
But this elation could not last. Could they forget that within a stone's throw their friends were in peril, and unless soon rescued would be beyond all help?
"We have only one gun between us," said Fred, "and I don't see any prospect of getting another."
"I thinked maybe we mought find one, somewhar in de woods," said Gimp, "but I guess dere ain't much show for dat. You am de best shot, so I'll be wery much obleeged if you'll take charge ob dis rifle."
Fred accepted the weapon, feeling that before any great harm could befall those in the Indian camp, the bullet nestling in the barrel would be heard from.
"We will steal up as near as we dare," said he, "and watch our chances."
"I doesn't see dat I can assist you, to a wery alarming extent," said Gimp, "so if you doesn't object, I'll go on a scout."
"Go on a scout? What do you mean by that?"
"Ise an ijee; I'll take a look around, and when I want you I'll just whistle this way, and you'll understand."