When half an hour had passed the firing broke out again, not in volleys, but with a shot at intervals of ten or fifteen seconds, and then we all fancied screams of pain and exultation could be heard.
"The savages have succeeded!" Kenton said curtly. "Whoever blundered this way has already paid for the mistake, or will before the sun rises again."
Mother, her mind once more in the past, turned pale as death and I trembled like one with an ague, for it seemed at the moment as if this was a token of what our fate would be.
The breakfast which mother had been preparing was neglected until some time later, when Simon Kenton said with an evident effort at cheerfulness:
"We're playin' the fool to stand here as if waitin' for the painted scoundrels to do their will. We have no reason to despair because they have captured some unfortunate; but should be all the more determined to worst them."
Then he deftly finished the work mother had begun, and insisted upon our sharing in the meal, for, according to his belief, there was no reason why we need stand close guard now that the sun had risen.
Under such circumstances it was difficult to eat, at least I found it so; food well-nigh choked me, but I forced it down because of his stern command, and we made at least the semblance of eating breakfast, with as much zest as you can fancy people display under the shadow of the gallows.
When the pretense of a meal had come to an end, Kenton got up from the table and stood at the loophole in the door an instant, giving vent to a low exclamation of surprise or dismay as he peered forth.
In a twinkling I was by his side, and there saw that which caused the cold chill of fear to run down my back.
Directly in front of the cabin, toward the river, beyond range of our rifles, stood a man and a boy, each bound hand and foot to a tree trunk.