The women safe placed, Castor turned and whispered to his comrades. Wilson was already over the log, and Stevens speedily followed his example. Then they sought the new refuge, where they knelt down with senses upon the keen alert, and rifles ready for use.
"You wimmen keep cluss," continued Castor. "Them pesky reds is mighty keerless, sometimes, an' one o' thar bullits mought chaince to hit ye. Hurt, too, they would; bet yer life they do!"
"What do you think they will do now?" anxiously queried Wilson.
"Don't know. Tell you better a'ter a bit. But then you'll know jest as soon's I will, come to think o' it. Hist! jes' lis'en to thet!"
This exclamation was drawn forth by a series of sounds that suddenly broke the stillness of the forest. They seemed to come from every point of the compass, forming a terribly-significant concert, when the listeners so well knew the true performers.
The faint howling as of wolves; the whistle of the night-hawk; the chirp of the tree-toad or ground squirrel; the mournful cry of the rain-crow—with still other sounds, came from the forest depths, telling the fugitives that their foes were upon the alert—that they were surrounded by a cordon of bloodthirsty and cunning enemies, whose every power would be strenuously exerted to wreak a fearful vengeance upon the slayers of their fallen comrades.
The fire blazed higher and more brightly, casting a flood of light over all surrounding objects, plainly revealing the long log, behind which crouched the fugitives. But still, not a trace of the savages could be seen, though keen and practiced eyes swept every foot of the ground revealed.
Then the signals abruptly ceased, and even the fire appeared to burn without noise. A stillness as of death swept over the forest. The moment of action was evidently nigh at hand.
"Keep your eyes peeled, boys," muttered Tobe Castor, as his teeth clenched and his eyes glittered with a strange glow. "They know jest about whar we be, an' 'll show thar hands 'fore long. Plug the fust varmint as you kin draw a bead on, but don't waste 'ary shot."
It was evident that the savages had determined upon the position of the fugitives, but then a wide stretch was given them, for the log was some fifty or sixty feet in length, the entire body of it fringed with bushes, any point along it sufficiently dense for the fugitives to hide in. This fact alone kept the Indians from making a desperate onset at once.