The hours grew as we sat by the fire, and, presently, I noticed that Simon’s head was fallen forward, and he slept. I had hard work to fight off the slumber, as I had not closed my eyes for two nights, and was weary with my journey. I knew I dared not sleep, for, though I did not fear Simon, nor hardly an attack from the wolves, while the fire burned, yet there was a feeling of vague uneasiness with me, a dread that some nameless thing was abroad in the forest, and I could not shake it off.
Simon stirred uneasily, and then I heard a faint, far-off sound, as of some one walking cautiously through the underbrush. Could it be Indians? Our fire was not brilliant now, but, fearful that even its faint glow would betray us, I scooped up a handful of earth, and dashed it on the embers, extinguishing them.
Nearer and nearer came the sound until it was almost upon us. I reached over and touched Simon, who awoke with a start. Then he heard the sound and looked about in alarm. I took up my flint-lock and gave Simon one of the two pistols I had, at the same time motioning him to make no noise.
“Indians,” he whispered, and I nodded.
The next moment we saw through an opening between the trees not fifty feet away dim shadows in the night; a line of figures which we made out to be the red men of the woods. One behind the other they marched, silent, almost, as spirits, save for a little rustle of the leaves as they brushed by them.
Each warrior had a gun, and they wore their war feathers. I counted six score ere the last one passed and I knew there would be no peace in the land for a time.
It was the beginning of the Indian uprising of which I had heard when near New York, and, with that savage band abroad our lives were scarce worth a flint.
Simon and I cowered in silence until we saw no more shadows, and then we breathed[we breathed], it seemed for the first time since the Indians had come into view. The sailor spoke no word, but he handed the pistol back to me, like a man who was glad he had had no use for it.
With the savages on the war path it was little chance that Elizabeth would escape an attack.
Should we then push on there? I tried to think of a better plan, but there seemed none. We would be as much exposed to attack in retracing our steps, as in going on. If we could reach the town the block house might afford us protection until help came. Once in Elizabeth, too, Simon and I could aid the settlers in defending the place from the Indian attack. There was nothing to do but go on as soon as it was light.