“I don’t know,” was the reply, and Perry gazed hard at the two guides, who were stooping about the fire. “Yes, I do; they’re putting on more wood.”
“Then, as soon as they come toward us, we must run round and try to get our guns.”
They stood in the darkness watching for some moments, while the guides still busied themselves about the fire, wandering here and there, as if busy about something; though, after seeing the flames rise, on the first portion of wood being added, their object appeared vague.
All at once the rustling toward the clearing recommenced, and the boys looked sharply in that direction, fully expecting that the first attack would come from there; but the sound grew fainter, and they knew that the Indians must be going back, apparently satisfied with their scrutiny. This meant the danger lessened for the moment by one half; and Cyril now gripped his companion’s shoulder more tightly.
“Now, then,” he said, “let’s get round by the trees to the other side.”
“Too late,” said Perry; “they are coming here.”
Cyril glanced toward the fire, but no one was visible. In the brief moments during which their backs were turned, the guides had disappeared, and all was silent; not a sound suggested the spot from which the enemy would advance.
“We must chance it,” whispered Cyril. “Quick; come along this way. Quiet.”
They started away to their right, so as to get round to the back of the fire; but as fate had it, they went right into the arms of those whom they were seeking to avoid. Not forty steps had been taken cautiously through the dark shadows beneath the trees, before Perry uttered a cry as the two guides sprang up in their path.
“This way, Cil; run,” he whispered.