"Doubtless that is the one I drove away," was his reflection. "He wants to call some of his brothers before I leave, so he can reward me as an Indian likes to reward one who shows him mercy. But, hello!"
Like a flash came the thought that the peculiar signals that had been going on for some minutes were not those of an Indian, but of his friend, Gravity Gimp.
"I do believe it is he, calling to me," said the lieutenant, as he stationed himself in the shadow of a tree, and, holding his weapon ready for use, cautiously answered the hail, which sounded clear and distinct on the still summer night.
Instantly came the reply, and then he replied in turn, so that communication was established, and whether the other was a friend or foe, it became evident that he was approaching.
The lieutenant did not feel free from fear, for he was aware of the subtlety of the foes against whom he was contending, and nothing was more natural than that they should resort to such a simple artifice to mislead him.
He therefore ceased answering the call when it came close, but held himself ready to fire and withdraw the instant he should detect the deception.
A figure was dimly seen in a small, moonlit space in front, advancing upon him in a crouching posture. Fred fastened his eyes on the shadowy outlines, and he grasped his gun with both hands.
Just then the half-bent man straightened up, and, with a relief that was delightful, Fred recognized the form of Gravity Gimp, who had been hunting and signaling so industriously for the last fifteen minutes.