Maude shuddered, and Bart returned to where the Beaver was at the opening, watching the place where the enemy had been plundering the waggon, and had afterwards stirred up the camp fire and were seated round.
“Joses was glad that he had put away the powder,” thought Bart, as he saw the glare of the fire. “I begin to wish it had been left.”
Chapter Eighteen.
Two Horrors.
Morning at last, and from their hiding-place the fugitives could see that the Indians were in great numbers, and whilst some were with their horses, others were gathered together in a crowd about the post-like tree-trunk half-way between the gate of the mountains, as Bart called it, and the camp.
The greatest caution was needed to keep themselves from the keen sight of the Indians, who had apparently seen nothing of the horses’ trail; and as far as Bart could tell, Joses was so far safe. Still it was like this:— If the Indians should begin to examine the face of the rock, they must find both entries, and then it was a question of brave defence, though it seemed impossible but that numbers must gain the mastery in the end.
“Poor Joses!” thought Bart, and the tears rose to his eyes. “I’d give anything to be by his side, to fight with him and defend the horses.”
Then he began to wonder how many charges of powder he would have, and how long he could hold out.