"I am waiting only for to-morrow night. At that time Price will suppose I have just returned from Warsaw. Then I will go with you!" replied Johnson.
"I shall go to-night!" answered William. "But I shall enter the camp by stealth, crawl from tent to tent, listen to all conversations, and perhaps in this manner may get important information, both for our friends, and of my father and sister."
"It is a desperate hazard, William!"
"I am resolved!"
"I shall go with you!" replied Johnson.
"No, or at least, not within the camp. If you were seen before the expected time, it would create suspicion. You will conceal yourself before you reach the outer pickets. But I must find Fall-leaf. I will go to the point where I heard the rifle report. He may be wounded—perhaps dead."
Night was fast approaching as the friends took their course down the mountain, and toward the rebel camp. The fires could be distinctly seen, and the shrill notes of the fife, and the rattle of the drum, echoed across the mountain, and from hill to hill. As they reached the river, William exclaimed:
"It is nine o'clock. They are beating the tattoo in camp. In an hour all will be quiet. But let us now search for Fall-leaf. The moon is shining brightly, which will favor our search!"
The friends sprang into a small skiff which Johnson drew from its concealment in a clump of under brush, and in a moment were upon the opposite bank. Without further words, William led the way, and soon arrived on the spot where Fall-leaf had been wounded. He examined the ground carefully, and at last exclaimed:
"Here are traces of blood, and the grass is trodden down, plainly showing that a great struggle has occurred, or that a large party have passed over this place."