“Yes. Take your piece, Master George,” said Morgan, “and don’t shout aloud. Let’s have a good look round first.”
It was good advice, and we made our rowers take the boat up a couple of hundred yards past the landing-place, and then let her drift back. But all was still. There were two or three busy squirrels, and some birds, but no sign of lurking enemy.
“It’s quite safe, I think,” I said.
“Yes, sir, safe enough. No Indian here, or we should have had an arrow at us before now.”
“We may fasten the boat there, and leave it?” I said.
Morgan hesitated.
“Well, yes,” he said; “we had better keep all together. It would not be fair to leave those two alone to mind her in case the Indians did come.”
“If they do,” I said, “we must retreat overland if we can’t get to the boat.”
“Or they get it first,” said Morgan, grimly.
So we landed at the familiar place, the boat was made fast, and with Hannibal carrying one of the guns, we started for the old home, all eager and excited except Pomp, whose brow puckered up, and I knew the reason why—he had no gun to carry.