Almost unconsciously, they had been making their way southward and now another figure rose up in the fog before them—that of Frank. He was about to speak, when once more the wailing cry rose, and this time it came from two quarters, from the river and from farther inland. The three stood, silent, speechless, and in that moment, while the echoes of the cries still rang in their heads, Farnum and Art materialized out of the fog.
“Good, there you all are,” said Farnum, in a low, tense voice. “Follow me to camp.”
And without a word of explanation he started at right angles away from the river, for they had taken their stations in such fashion that Frank, holding the middle position, would be directly opposite the camp. This was in order to enable them to reach it without losing their way in the fog.
“What is it, Art?” asked Jack, his voice matching Farnum’s.
“Indians,” answered Art, tersely. “Stick close together and don’t make no noise.”
It was a situation to tax the nerve of the bravest, and the three boys hurrying along in the wake of Farnum and Art could not be accused of cowardice for experiencing a chill premonition of trouble ahead. Often had Farnum spoken of the cruelty of these far northern Indians. Bitter had been their experiences with Lupo’s half-breeds, in whose veins flowed the blood of the Indians of the north.
As they hurried along, there flashed through their minds some of the stories Farnum had told. Had they gotten so far, so near the end of their quest for the “Lost Expedition” only to be wiped out by Indians, on the very eve of success? Such thoughts raced through the mind of each. But they were determined fellows, accustomed to confront danger, used to tight places. The first onrush of panic was swept aside, and, by the time they tumbled into the little hollow in which camp had been pitched, and where Mr. Hampton awaited them, each had himself well in hand.
Mr. Hampton looked at their determined faces, and a smile of grim approval was his greeting.
“Indians, boys,” he said. “Farnum told me. I suspected as much. Now, we have no trees here for bulwark, but this little hollow is good enough. Let us lie down and line the edge of the pit. We’ll be pretty close together, and if any Indians stumble on us they’ll get a warm reception. Listen.” He spoke in a low voice. “There goes that cry again. Does it sound closer? Yes,” as the other nodded, “I thought so. Quick. Take your positions. Jack, my boy, you stay beside me.”
There was a little tremor in his voice. That was all. But Jack understood. He clasped his father’s hand strongly, then threw himself prone beside him, while the others ranged themselves in a circle as commanded.