He immediately ran to the camp and called Matthew who was just rolling away the blankets in which they had slept.
"Look, what I have found!" he said to the boy. "It's an Indian arrow!"
"Where was it?" Matthew asked.
"It was driven tightly into a tree, right next to where the Indian guide slept."
"And where is the guide?" Matthew asked, growing pale.
"I don't know," said Fred while his lips trembled.
"Let us look for him," Matthew suggested.
"No, let us go back to the camp, and get ready to leave," said Agnes.
"This looks dangerous to me. Something is wrong."
The children had traveled for six days without having been molested by any one. It was late in August, and all nature seemed bathed in peace. They had not met a single Indian, but found the villages deserted. This had somewhat surprised them, yet as nothing happened, they had not attached to it any importance.
Only the guide had been suspicious. He was a Mohican, and a man of middle age, who was well acquainted with the ways of the Pequots whom he hated thoroughly.