Chap would have been very glad while leading this expedition to carry a weapon of some kind; but as there was no weapon for him, he resolved to cut a club as soon as he found a suitable limb or sapling.
If he could get a whack at the two fellows who pushed him out of the boat, he felt that it would do him a great deal of good.
The newly-arrived Indians having made a hasty meal, there was no time lost in starting. Chap placed himself at the head of the party, but he had not gone far before he felt obliged to relinquish that position.
The path along which he had come, and which stretched out westwardly through the forest, was a path worn by persons walking from a landing-place on the tributary river to the spot on the main stream where our friends had made their camp of the night before, which was also a frequently used landing-place.
But the woods now before our party were closely overgrown, and it required eyes better accustomed to the business than those of Chap’s to readily find the path.
This passage through the woods was, when the size of the bend of the tributary river was considered, a short cut between the landing-places on the two streams; but it was, for all that, a long walk, and it was late in the afternoon when The Talker announced to Chap that they were approaching the bank of the other river.
“How do we know that we are going to strike the river at the right place to meet the rascals?” asked Chap. “They may land on the opposite bank, and then we can’t get at them.”
“Only one landin’-place ’long here,” said the Indian; “but just where we are goin’ to go. Ketch ’em there. You see. Just wait.”
The Indians now called a halt, and after a few words among themselves, The Talker informed Chap that they had determined to remain where they were until after nightfall, because, if the men on the boat caught sight of any of them, they would suspect something, and would not land at all.
“Sit down; rest,” said The Talker. “I’ll go see if boat has come along yit.”