CHAPTER XIV
HOLDING THE FORD
The five lay down in the thicket, completely hidden themselves, but commanding a splendid view of the deep, clear stream and the gorge by which the red army must approach. They were calm in manner, nevertheless their hearts were beating high. The sunshine was so brilliant that every object was distinct far up the gorge, and Henry felt sure the Indian army would come into sight, while it was yet beyond rifle shot. Nor were the leaders likely to send forward scouts and skirmishers, as they apprehended no danger in front. It was on their flank or rear that they expected the five to hang.
The five did not speak and the silence was complete, save for the usual noises of the forest. Birds chattered overhead. Little animals rustled now and then in the thickets, fish leaped in the river, but there was no sound to indicate that man was near. They were not nervous nor restless. Inured to danger, waiting had become almost a mechanical act, and they were able to lie perfectly still, however long the time might be.
They saw the column of smoke fade, and then go quite away. There was not a fleck on the sky of blazing blue, and Henry knew that the red army had broken up its camp, and was on the march. He had a sudden fear that they might send ahead scouts and skirmishers, but reflection brought him back to his original belief that they would not do so, as they would not foresee the transference of the five to their front.
The hours passed and Shif'less Sol, who had been lying flat upon the ground, raised his head.
"I hear wheels," he said laconically.
Henry put his own ear to the ground.
"So do I," he said.