[CHAPTER XII.]
A RUSE DE GUERRE.
After his strange proposal to the hunters, the leader of the pirates retook, at his best speed, the road to his den.
But he was too much accustomed to the life of the prairies not to suspect that several of his enemies would follow his track at a distance. Therefore, he had put in practice, to mislead them, all the tricks which his inventive mind could furnish with him, making détours without number, retracing incessantly his steps, or, as it is vulgarly said, going back ten yards to advance one.
These numerous precautions had excessively retarded his journey.
When he arrived on the banks of the river whose waters bathed the entrance to the cavern, he cast a last look around him, to make certain that no busy eye was watching his movements.
Everything was calm, nothing suspicious appeared, and he was about to launch into the stream the raft concealed beneath the leaves, when a slight noise in the bushes attracted his attention.
The pirate started; promptly drawing a pistol from his belt, he cocked it, and advanced boldly towards the spot whence this alarming noise proceeded.