The further speech of the old hunter was abruptly cut short, by a series of thrilling sounds. Full well the little party knew the meaning of these, and each one shuddered convulsively at the dire visions conjured up before their mind's eye.
A rifle-shot, a shrill yell—other shots, followed by more cries and yells; then a wild uproar, as of deadly strife, at close quarters.
CHAPTER VII.
THE FOREST TRAGEDY.
We will now turn to and trace up the fortunes of the little party whom we left just quitting the "lodge by the rock," and entering the gloomy forest.
A longing, lingering look was cast back at the rude but loved structure, which had sheltered them for so long a time. But there was no retreating now.
Fred was probably the most anxious one of the party, for he knew, better far than they, the real extent of the peril that menaced. He knew that they would be fortunate indeed, were all members of both families alive and well at the next day-dawning.
He was not without some experience in Indian fighting, for before they removed to Minnesota, he had spent several winters trapping in the Blackfoot country, and with Tobe Castor, had, more than once, made his mark upon the persons of the dusky-skinned heathen. And since his residence here, Fred had kept his woodcraft brushed up, by long hunting excursions with the old scout.
So he cautioned his companions to step lightly and to avoid all conversation, while he glided on some yards in advance, trusting to discover any impending danger long enough beforehand to guard them from it. Their progress was necessarily slow, but the value of the young ranger's precautions was soon made apparent.