“I’m glad you are here, uncle,” whispered Norman.
“Can you see any of them, Tim? Your eyes are younger than mine.”
“No, uncle,” came after a pause.
“They must be crawling up, so as to hurl their spears from close by.”
“Coo-ee!” came again from very near now. “Not suspicious, then?” said the captain, wonderingly.
“I can see one now, uncle,” whispered Tim. “He’s high up.”
“In a tree?”
“No: moving; coming nearer; he’s on horseback.”
“Nonsense! Black fellows don’t ride horses out in the scrub.”
“But he is mounted, uncle. I can see plainly now.”