"And you think there is no way of making our way out?" Harold asked.
"It's a mighty poor chance, if there's one at all," the hunter replied. "I should say by the fire there must be nigh a hundred of 'em now, and it's likely that, by nightfall, there'll be three times as many. As soon as it gets dusk they'll creep out from the woods and form a circle round the house and gradually work up to it. Now let's cook some vittles; we've had nothing to eat this morning yet, and it must be nigh eleven o'clock. I don't see why we should be starved, even if we have got to be killed to-night."
One of the party was left on watch on each side of the house, and the others gathered in the room below, where a fire was lit and the strips of dried deer flesh which they carried were soon frying over it. Harold admired the air of indifference with which his companions set about preparing the meat. Everyone was aware of the desperate nature of the position, but no allusion was made to it. The negro had caught the spirit of his companions, but his natural loquacity prevented his imitating their habitual silence.
"Dis bad affair, Massa Harold," he said. "We jess like so many coons up in tree, wid a whole pack ob dogs round us, and de hunters in de distance coming up wid de guns. Dis chile reckon dat some ob dem hunters will get hit hard before dey get us. Jake don't care one bit for himself, massa, but he bery sorry to see you in such a fix."
"It can't be helped, Jake," Harold said as cheerfully as he could. "It was my firing that shot which got us into it, and yet I cannot blame myself. We could not stand by and see those ruffians murder a woman and child."
"Dat's so, Massa Harold; dere was no possinbility of seeing dat. I reckon dat when dose rascals come to climb de stairs dey'll find it are bery hard work."
"I don't think they will try, Jake. They are more likely to heap brushwood against the door and windows and set it alight, and then shoot us down as we rush out. This hut is not like the one I had to defend against the Iroquois. That was built to repel Indians' attacks; this is a mere squatter's hut."
After the meal was over Peter and the Seneca chief went upstairs, looked through the loop-holes, and talked long and earnestly together; then they rejoined the party below.
"The chief and I are of opinion," Peter said to Harold, "that it are of no manner of use our waiting to be attacked here. They'd burn us out to a sartinty; we should have no show of a fight at all. Anything's better than that. Now, what we propose is that, directly it gets fairly dark, we'll all creep out and make for the lake. Even if they have formed their circle round us, they aint likely to be as thick there as they are on the other side. What they'll try to do, in course, is to prevent our taking to the forest; and there'll be such a grist of 'em that I don't believe one of us would get through alive if we tried it. Now they'll not be so strong toward the lake, and we might break through to the water. I don't say as there's much chance of our getting away, for I tell you fairly that I don't believe that there's any chance at all; but the chief, here, and his braves don't want their sculps to hang in the wigwams of the Chippewas, and I myself, ef I had the choice, would rather be drownded than shot down. It don't make much difference; but, of the two, I had rather. Ef we can reach the lake, we can swim out of gunshot range. I know you can swim like a fish, and so can Jake, and the Indians swim as a matter of course. Ef we dive at first we may get off; it'll be so dark they won't see us with any sartainty beyond fifty yards. When we're once fairly out in the lake we can take our chance."
"And is there a chance, Peter? Although, if there is none, I quite agree with you that I would rather be drowned than shot down. If one were sure of being killed by the first shot that would be the easiest death; but if we were only wounded they would probably hang us in the morning."