Still Kingdom remained sitting on the bundle of fodder. He was thinking of John Jerome and the camp in the gully near the river. The more he reflected, the more inclined he was to believe that it was not John’s camp that he had discovered. How could John have brought salt from the “lick?” He had not had time enough to make any. That he had obtained it of some one whom he found there was possible, but hardly likely. But, on the other hand, if the camp was not John Jerome’s, whose in the world was it? Who was spreading salt to dry in the depths of the Ohio wilderness?
CHAPTER XIII—THE SENECA OUTWITTED
So long as he believed Lone-Elk to be near the clearing, Ree was little better than a prisoner, so far as going to find John Jerome was concerned; and as he realized that the Seneca might prolong his stay indefinitely, he turned his thoughts to some plan by which he might be rid of the fellow. He had no intention of letting Lone-Elk suspect what was in his mind, however. On the contrary, he would endure a great deal rather than give the Indian the satisfaction of knowing how greatly he desired to be alone.
Sauntering leisurely to the cabin, Kingdom sat in the doorway to eat and drink, for he was still warm with the vigorous exercise of the forenoon. Then he fed the horses and for a time busied himself about the stable. Constantly was he alert to discover whether Lone-Elk was still in the vicinity, and as he watched through a crack from inside the barn, he several times saw the Indian. The unyielding savage was moving uneasily from point to point, but his eyes were turned always in the direction of the cabin, and his manner seemed to express a determination to look nowhere else for a long time to come.
Surely it was enough to bring despair to anyone, Kingdom told himself. Then the thought came to him that maybe Lone-Elk was despairing quite as much as he. He recalled a rule that good old Captain Bowen had once laid down for him when he and John were planning their first trip west—“Don’t give up. When you are just about done for and you think you can’t hold out a second longer, just keep your hold the stronger; for you can depend on it that the other fellow is more or less winded if you are, and you don’t know but he is more.”
Gaining encouragement in such reflections, Kingdom set his teeth and a smile which was not pleasant to see came to his lips. Very quietly and naturally, however, he carried a bucket of fresh water up from the river and went into the cabin and sat down. If he could do nothing else, he would slip through the barn and get into the woods in the darkness. He could lie by in some secluded place until morning and for Lone-Elk to find him, after he had obtained such a start, would be more than even that determined redskin was likely to undertake.
The shadows lengthened. With the thought of slipping away in the darkness in mind, Kingdom let the fire die down and from loopholes constantly watched the clearing to make certain the Seneca did not approach the buildings and so be able to prevent his leaving.
Slowly the gathering darkness deepened. It closed around the little log house and stump-dotted open space in the forest’s fastnesses. It closed around Lone-Elk, the Seneca, unrelenting and vigilant. But it closed around another, too, who watched the cabin on the bluff with patience and with perseverance quite equal to the Indian’s.
When John Jerome awoke from the deep sleep into which he fell beside the log that protected him not only from the night wind but from sight as well, if by any chance Indians or others should be passing, he stirred uneasily and at last sat up. A yelp and a sudden rustling of the leaves accompanied his movement. More startled than frightened, John leaped to his feet. Two pairs of eyes shone yellowish-green in the darkness, and a hungry growl came from the same direction.
“Scatter, you varmints!” cried the boy, and clubbing his gun, sprang toward the creatures.