"We can't go after them cannon now," said Long Jim. "We've got to stay an' git revenge fur poor old Sol."
"An' that's shore," said Tom Ross.
Henry and Paul were silent. It was the most terrible irony to stand there and see the savages rejoicing over the cruel fate of their comrade, and, as the water rose in their eyes, there came at the same time out of the depths of the forest the long lone howl of the wolf, now a deep thrilling note, something like a chord.
"It's Shif'less Sol! he's safe!" cried Long Jim. "It's jest a trick they're workin', tryin' to beat down our sperrits, an' good old Sol is tellin' us so!"
"It's shorely time," said Silent Tom, "an' that's an old scalp they're whirlin'."
They had never before known the cry of a wolf to have such a deep and thrilling quality, but it came again as full and resounding as before, and they were satisfied. Not a doubt remained in the heart of any one of them. The shiftless one was safe and he had twice told them so. How could they ever have thought that he would allow himself to be trapped so easily? The savages might dance on and sing on as much as they pleased, but it did not matter now.
"After lookin' at them gyrations," said Long Jim, "I needs refreshment. A dancin' an' singin' party always makes me hungry. Will you j'in me in a ven'son an' water banquet, me noble luds?"
"Go ahead the rest o' you," said Tom Ross, "I'll watch."
They drank from the rill, lay down on their couches and ate the deer meat with splendid appetites. The revulsion was so great that anything would have been good to them.
"That wuz a purty smart trick, after all," said Long Jim. "Ef they'd made us think they'd got Shif'less Sol's scalp they'd make us think, too, that they'd git our own soon. An' they reckoned then, mebbe, that we'd be so weak-sperrited we'd come out an' surrender."