"We must first creep near the sentinels, and when the nine o'clock relief is marched out, we can listen, and gain possession of the countersign. This will be of some assistance to us in case of challenge."
"No—no! White brother stay here! Indian go—creep—softly!" said Fall-leaf.
"No, my brother, you are suffering too severely with your wounds. We cannot permit you to do this, while we remain inactive."
"Look out for the pickets. There is one of their fires," said Margrave, as they approached the oak grove. The party verged their course, and, in a few moments, were within a hundred yards of the camp, concealed almost entirely by the thick wood through which they were passing. Here they paused.
"The darkness favors us!" remarked Margrave. "The moon which was shining so brightly last night, is now entirely obscured by thick clouds. We must wait until after tattoo, and then enter the camp in different directions."
"No—me alone!" replied Fall-leaf. "You—you—me, go—all get kill—no help Alibamo! Me go now! I get kill—you go. You get kill, you go. I no get kill, come back. I no come back, you go!"
"The Indian means to express himself to the effect, that it is more safe for one to go alone, and if he should get killed or taken, another could go the next night, and another the next? or, that, if two of us should be killed, the third could return and procure more assistance for Alibamo, when he had learned their final destination. We will let the Indian go first. I will write a few words upon a bit of paper, and he may get an opportunity to give it to my sister."
The drums had beat the tattoo, and the relief had passed its rounds. The party listened attentively, but failed to get the countersign, which was given in a whisper. The camp became quiet, and the lights were mostly extinguished.
"Me go now! softly—softly," said the Indian.
"Fall-leaf, give this paper to my sister if you can get an opportunity. If you are discovered, and compelled to fly, we will all meet at yonder rock."