Full well did Kingdom realize how very correct John’s observation probably was. He was confident that it was the crow which occasioned the moving about among the hiding Indians,—the flitting shadows both he and John had seen. He made no answer to his friend’s remark at once, but turned over again in his mind a plan which he had been considering all day. It seemed wise. He could think of nothing better.
“John,” said Ree at last, “if they stay away till it’s dark enough to do it, how would you like to slip away and go up among the rocky ledges for a few days?”
“Hide?” Jerome demanded rather contemptuously.
“Why, no! There’s no need to call it hiding,” Kingdom answered tactfully. “Just stay away from the cabin for awhile and give me a chance to find out what killed Big Buffalo and get the witch idea out of these crazy Delawares’ minds.”
“But, don’t you—”
“I know what you’re going to say. It is, don’t I think that the fact of your being away will make the Indians all the more certain about this witchcraft business—make them think you’ve skedaddled! We can’t help what they think. We do know, though, that they’re after you and either we’ve got to pack up and light out, or get this witch idea out of their heads. Now I think I can do it, in spite of Gentle Maiden’s discouraging talk; if I only have a chance.”
On one point, as the discussion continued, hardly above a whisper, both boys agreed. It was that some time during the night the Indians would visit the cabin. They might come as if in a friendly way just to learn whether Little Paleface was there; or they might make a determined attack. The redskins’ supposition that Ree was alone, confirmed by all that they had seen during the day, however, would probably suggest to them an apparently friendly, but in reality spying, visit.
In whatever way the lads viewed their situation they found so much of uncertainty surrounding them that at best they must take a chance.
Often and often was it this way in pioneer days. Every important movement was encompassed by more or less danger. If a settler needed but to go to mill, or to some frontier trading place for supplies, he confronted many uncertainties and often left his family in danger, too. Danger was always present, and although only the foolhardy were disregardful entirely, even the most prudent came by constant association to take it as a matter of course.
The latter was the feeling of the two boys from Connecticut. If they had been less accustomed to the alarms of the wilderness, they would, in the pinch in which they now found themselves, most probably have sought safety at once at Fort Pitt or perhaps at some of the Ohio river settlements. If they had done so their story would have been a very different one.