How long he had slept, David could not have determined. He was suddenly awakened by that ever-present instinct which warns the trained forester of danger.
It was not the moon which had lifted the weight from his eyelids. Something of life and motion had been the means of arousing him. Instead of starting quickly up, he remained perfectly silent. The moon was not yet sufficiently above the horizon to lighten the forest to any considerable degree. Still, the acute vision of the scout at once enabled him to define his disturber.
Bending over him, and peering intently down upon the spot where he lay, was the dusky form and burning eyes of a savage! David could see more than this. Grasped in the right hand of the Indian, ready for instant use, was a heavy tomahawk, clearly defined against the pale sky above him.
The savage form bending above him, and the careless tramp of many feet around him, revealed but too plainly to the startled scout that the invaders were upon him—even between himself and the friends he would have warned.
The warrior, in carelessly passing the sleeping scout, had struck his foot against the prostrate form, and, being sensible that something unusual was in his path, grasped his weapon, and peered cautiously down upon the object beneath him. Observing the slight start of Barring, the unsuspicious Indian bent still closer, bringing his head within a foot of the scout’s face. That was the moment for action.
With a motion like lightning, and a grasp like steel, the scout clutched the savage by the throat, and, before the astonished barbarian could collect himself, he was thrown violently to the earth. The quickness of the motion hurled the tomahawk many yards away, while the supple white threw himself full upon his gasping victim. Exerting all his fearful strength, David compressed his grasp, until it seemed the very fingers would meet through the neck of the writhing savage.
The utmost efforts of the strangling Indian proved insufficient to warn his fellows, and thus summon assistance. Finding it impossible to effect this, he adopted another method. Ceasing to struggle, he lay gasping and immovable. But the wary scout was not thrown from his guard. Tightening his hold with the left hand, he cautiously moved his right to where the haft of his knife protruded from his belt. In another moment the blade had done its work. There was one convulsive effort of the tawny frame, then a deep, long shudder, and the scout rose from the still form of his dead adversary.
A moment’s close observation gave Barring a clear perception of his surroundings. Fortunately, he was not in the direct path of the savage horde, who were sweeping past him to the northward and eastward. He perceived that it was a large party—perhaps, indeed, the main body of the warriors.
The savages were marching in the direct line toward the cabin of the Hinton family; hence it was a matter of doubt if the scout could reach the place before it was too late. But he was not the man to hesitate, and he set forth at once.
The distance to the cabin was nearly passed, yet the anxious man had not succeeded in outstripping his foes. The cautious and circuitous route he had of necessity pursued, and neutralized his superior speed and skill. Suddenly the horde paused, and, dividing into separate parties, moved rapidly to the right and left. Too well the scout knew the meaning of this movement, and the clenched hand and compressed lips showed the stern thoughts which moved him.