Thus far, nothing had been seen or heard of the savages, and a number of the emigrants half-believed that the old guide had been deceived, and that the party of red-skins had been peaceable ones, who had no designs upon the train.
The sky was clear and unclouded, and the full moon had already arisen. Whether this last fact was a blessing or otherwise, was an open question to the emigrants, for if it served to betray the enemy in case they attempted a surprise, it would likewise furnish sufficient light by which the death-dealing bullet, or the scarcely less to be dreaded arrow, could be directed with almost the certainty of one at midday.
As an off-set to the error in corraling the wagons upon the river-bank, there were no trees or bushes within short gunshot of the encampment, while the plain was level and smooth almost as a floor, so that, for over an hundred yards, the savages would be forced to advance right in the teeth of their enemy.
Old Tom Maxwell was regarded by all as a sort of leader, and each word he spoke was earnestly listened to, and every hint or direction promptly obeyed, without a murmur or a protest.
It was some two hours or more, after the moon had arisen, that the first sign of the enemy’s presence was observed, and only the well-trained eye of the old guide could at first discern the suspicious object. He quickly glided from man to man, whispering to each:
“Thar’s a red out yon’, snoopin’ ’round, to diskiver ef so be we’re on the look-out. Now don’t spile it all, but take it cool an’ do jest as I say. Ef he on’y keeps to the outside, why let ’im go, but ef he a’tempts to enter, then wipe him out as quickly as you know how. Don’t make no n’ise, nor don’t let him make none, nyther.”
As he returned to his post, old Tom saw that the spy had drawn considerably nearer, until the paint-bedaubed face could be distinctly seen, as the moon’s bright rays streamed full upon the cautiously uplifted head.
The eyes of the veteran scout began to glisten, and his hands nervously clutched at his rifle, as though eager to put a final period to the night-prowling of the painted demon, but then his habitual coolness returned, and he calmly awaited the denouement.
The spy gradually drew nearer to the double row of wagons, and paused close beside the outer line, just in front of Maxwell. He uttered a low grunt as of disgust, as he found that the beds were almost upon a level with the ground, and that he could not pass beneath them, as he evidently intended.
Then he turned aside and slowly began skirting the corral. Although it was a trying ordeal, the emigrants obeyed their leader’s orders to the very letter, even suspending their breath as the spy gently stole along the line.