"Them fellers what has my gal will be mighty apt to meet with an adventure afore mornin', or my name ain't Jehiel Filkins. Gosh! but I wish I had the sweet critter in my arms this minnit! Wonder what Jemima Brown will say when she hears I am married to jest the prettiest little girl in America? Sartain, I hain't axed her yet, but I don't reckon she would refuse such a good-looking fellow as me."
He was thus soliloquizing as he reached the woods, and here he stopped. Finding a good place for his horse, he resumed his way on foot.
It was now nearly dark, and he was obliged to proceed cautiously, imagining that the Indians might have seen him following after them.
Leaving the beaten trail he carefully worked his way through the bushes, pausing occasionally to listen. No sound of falling hoofs was to be heard, and he again crept on.
Proceeding in this manner for about half a mile he discovered the glimmer of a camp-fire between the trees.
In the small opening three tired horses were leisurely feeding, while the Indians were busily engaged in building a fire and preparing their supper.
Snowdrop was sitting behind a tree with her hands and feet securely bound, and an expression of deep anxiety upon her face.
As Jehiel gazed at the group, he thought how easy it would be to shoot the two Indians, but he was not one to shed blood unnecessarily, and he determined to wait. He must contrive some way to let the girl know of his presence, but the question of how was a hard one to solve.
The trees surrounding the little camp were large, and the space open, so that he could advance no nearer without betraying his presence.
He solved the problem in his own quaint way. Depositing his rifle at the foot of the tree beside which he stood, he began to climb the tree. Once among the branches, the foliage of which he found dense enough for his purpose, he had no difficulty in making his way to the next nearest tree.