“Don’t know,” Joe answered, with an expressive shake of the head. “But I know what will become o’ him, if he goes nosin’ ’round the camp.”
“What?”
“Some o’ the sentries ’ll take him fer a prowlin’ redskin from the town over yander, an’ put an ounce o’ lead into him—that’s what.”
“That’s ’bout so,” growled one of the militiamen from under his blanket.
“You are right,” Ross admitted. “I’ll make a circuit of the camp and try to find him.”
“An’ while you’re gone, kill that Kaintuckian ’r have the officer o’ the guard buck an’ gag him,” Farley snarled as he again threw himself upon the ground.
Douglas failed to find his red comrade and returned to his place by the fire.
“See anything o’ the Injin?” Joe sleepily inquired.
“No,” was the monosyllabic reply.