"What is it?" questioned Stacy apprehensively.
"They will be here half of the day at least. I know a little about Indians, having been captured by them once. The difference is that my Indians were in a hurry to get somewhere. These fellows seem to have all the time in the world. They're waiting—killing time for some reason. You'll see, after they finish their dinner, that they will smoke some more, then lie down for a catnap."
"And—and what'll we be doing?"
"We'll be hiding on the top of this rock, Chunky."
"Wish I had my rifle."
"Lucky for both of us that you haven't."
The lads had been talking in whispers, but the words fairly froze in their mouths, when, upon glancing down they saw the eyes of a savage fixed upon them.
"On your life, don't move a muscle, Chunky," whispered Tad, as soon as he had recovered his wits.
Tad was not sure that the Indian saw them, yet there could be no doubt that the savage eyes were burning into their very own.
Soon, however, the Indian dropped his glances to his pipe bowl and the boys breathed a sigh of relief.