“Get ready, Joe,” said Glenn; “your redoubtable musket will do good service.”
“I’d rather not,” said Joe; “I’m hardly well enough to walk so far. I’ll take care of Miss Mary. I wonder what’s become of her? Mr. Roughgrove, Miss Mary hasn’t come back yet!”
“Yes she has,” replied the old ferryman; “I saw her bring this frozen flower up, while we were standing on the cliff, and she has only returned for the other pots, I hear her singing down the valley now,” he added, after stepping to the gate and listening a moment.
“Have you any gum fetid?” asked Boone, addressing Glenn.
“I’ve got lots of it,” interposed Joe, “that I brought along for the horses, because an old man at St. Louis told me they would never die so long as I kept a lump of it in the rack.”
“What use do you make of it?” asked Glenn.
“The scent of it will at any time collect the wolves,” said Boone, directing Joe to bring it along.
The party set out at a brisk pace, Joe with the rest, for it was necessary to station the men at as many points as possible. Boone, Roughgrove, and Glenn, when they reached the upper valley, descended to the river, while Sneak and Joe were directed to station themselves on the main-land opposite the upper and lower ends of the island. The party of three advanced towards the island on the ice, and Sneak and Joe pursued their way in a parallel direction through the narrow skirt of woods that bordered the range of bluffs.
Ere long the two on land descended from their high position and entered a densely-timbered bottom, the upper part of which (a half mile distant) was only separated from the island by a very narrow channel.
Here, for the first time that day, the thought that the island he was approaching was the haunted one of Glenn’s dream occurred to Joe, and he paused suddenly.