"'Pears to me," said Long Jim, "that we've come knowin' it, plum' into a big hornet's nest, but we ain't stung yet."
"An' we ain't goin' to be," said the shiftless one confidently.
Thus did the knights of the forest discuss their chances, and they were as truly knights as any that ever tilted lance for his lady, or, clothed in mail, fought the Saracen in the Holy Land, and, buried in the vast forest, their dangers were greater, they so few against so many.
Knowing now that they had no need to hurry and that to hurry was dangerous, they lay a long time in the woods, and some of them slept a little, while the others watched. But those who slept awoke when they heard the haunting cry of the owl. The five sat up as another owl far to the left hooted in answer. Not one of them was deceived for an instant, as the signals were exchanged three times. Indian, they knew, was talking to Indian.
"What do you think it means, Henry?" asked the shiftless one.
"I've a notion that a small band has struck our trail and that it's signaling to a bigger one."
"So am I, because it will put the great band on guard against us. Our best weapon would have been the ignorance of the Indians that we were near."
"Ef troubles git in our way we kin shoot 'em out uv it," said Long Jim philosophically.
"So we can," said Henry, "but there goes one of the owls again, and it's much nearer to us than it was before."