The others nodded assent and Tom hurried away after Paul, while Henry and Sol continued to watch the oncoming boats. They crept down the slope to the very fringe of the trees and lay close there, although they had little fear of discovery, unless it was caused by their own lack of caution.
The boats reached the inlet, and, for a few moments, they were hidden from the two watchers, by the bushes and rocks, but they heard the Indians talking, and Henry was confirmed in his opinion that they did not dream of any presence besides their own on the island. At length they emerged into view again, the prisoner walking between two warriors in front, and Henry gave a start of horror.
"Sol," he said in a whisper, "don't you recognize that gray head?"
"I think I do."
"Don't you know that tall, slender figure?"
"I'm shore I do."
"Tom, that can be nobody but Mr. Silas Pennypacker, to whom Paul and I went to school in Kentucky."
"It's the teacher, ez shore ez you're born."
Henry's thrill of horror came again. Mr. Pennypacker lived at Wareville, the home of his own family and Paul's. What had happened? There was the expedition of the harelipped Bird with his powerful force and with cannon! Could it be possible that he had swept Wareville away and that the teacher had been given to the Indians for sacrifice? A terrible anger seized him and Shif'less Sol, by his side, was swayed by the same emotion.
"It is he, Sol! It is he!" he whispered in intense excitement.