"I've no doubt it was a stump, a real stump," one of the older men said.
A deep flush overspread Phil's face.
"I saw a Comanche with long black hair rise from the water," he said.
The man who had spoken grinned a little, but the expression of his face showed that doubt had solidified into certainty.
"A case of nerves," he said, "but I don't blame you so much, bein' only a boy."
Phil felt his blood grow hot, but he tried to restrain his temper.
"I certainly saw a Comanche," he said, "and there were others behind him!"
"Then what's become of all this terrible attack?"! asked the man ironically.
"Come! Come!" said Woodfall. "We can't have such talk. The boy may have made a mistake, but the incident showed that he was watching well, just what we want our sentinels to do."
Phil flushed again. Woodfall's tone was kindly, but he was hurt by the implication of possible doubt and mistake. Yet Woodfall and the others had ample excuse for such doubts. There was not the remotest sign of an enemy. Could he really have been mistaken? Could it have been something like a waking dream? Could his nerves have been so upset that they made his eyes see that which was not? He stared for a full minute at the empty face of the river, and then a voice called: