Then the three passed out of Ross’s hearing. He smiled grimly as he whispered to himself:
“So they would kill Duke to eat—and kill me to keep me from eating. And that comely Delaware squaw remembers me. I wonder how many others in the camp know me—and how many would befriend me, if I should appeal to them. And I used to live among such beings; they were my associates, my friends. Bright Wing and a few others alone remain true to me. By the way, I wonder where that Wyandot and Joe Farley are. Are they grieving over my strange disappearance? How excited the savages are. I will act upon the idea that occurred to me a little while ago. Oh! to regain my liberty—to see Amy once again——”
His soliloquy ended in a long-drawn sigh. Softly whistling to the hound, he set off toward the upper end of the camp. Apparently the Indians gave no heed to him, as he made his way among them. Soon he had left them behind and was at the eastern limit of the camp—and alone.
At this point a shallow ravine sloped into the creek from the south. Its bed was half-filled with logs and brush, and its sides were covered with a dense growth of tall bushes.
On reaching this natural barrier to his further progress, Douglas stopped and hurriedly cast a glance behind him. He was several hundred yards from the nearest group of savages. What was to hinder him from wriggling through the tangled growth that lined both sides of the ravine, gaining the open forest on the other side, and making his escape? The Indians, busy with their own affairs, would not notice his absence for some time—hours, perhaps. True, he had no arms with which to protect himself from wild men and wild beasts, or with which to procure game; but he could hide during the daytime, travel at night, and live upon bark and roots until he reached a settlement. He resolved to make the venture. Hope rose high in his breast. He whirled to take a final look at the camp. As he did so, his heart sank into his moccasins. Unperceived by him, three warriors had crept along under the shelter of the creek bank, and now stood a few yards from him, closely eyeing his movements and grinning broadly.
Mentally cursing his ill-luck, Ross turned to retrace his steps toward camp. At that moment Duke rubbed against his leg and whined softly.
“What is it, old fellow?” the master asked, stooping and patting the dog’s head.
Again the hound whined plaintively, and rolled his great eyes toward the ravine a feet away.