They all went on, and came to a little stream. The sky had darkened, and the stars were out, and the forest was commencing to crack again.
“We will sleep here,” Gist said to the Indian. “Make us a little fire to sleep by. You were lost, and you fired your gun so that somebody would hear?”
“Fire my gun to clean him,” replied the Indian. “I know where my cabin is. Not far now. You come?”
“We will come in the morning,” Gist said. “Tonight we are too tired. You travel on, with this cake of bread; and in the morning we will follow your tracks, and we hope you will have some meat to give us, at your cabin.”
“That is good,” agreed the Indian. “Let my brothers rest by the fire. When they come to my cabin in the morning they will find deer meat to show them I am their friend.”
He went off, travelling fast among the trees.
“Be ready to leave at once when I’m back,” said Gist; and he, too, went off, trailing the Indian.
“That Indian meant to kill one of us, Hunter,” spoke Washington, as he sat with his feet to the fire.
“Yes,” Robert answered. “I hear bullet whistle. He French Injun. Now he goes to tell other French Injuns.”
“So I think myself,” said Washington. “We’ll have to clear out and keep ahead of them. Can you travel again in the dark?”