“Younger ones still have had to do it,” said Shif'less Sol gravely, “an' them that couldn't-well, the tomahawk.”
The trail was leading them toward the Seneca country, and they had no doubt that the Indians were Senecas, who had been more numerous than any others of the Six Nations at the Wyoming battle. They came that afternoon to a camp fire beside which the warriors and captives had slept the night before.
“They ate bar meat an' wild turkey,” said Long Jim, looking at some bones on the ground.
“An' here,” said Tom Ross, “on this pile uv bushes is whar the women an' children slept, an' on the other side uv the fire is whar the warriors lay anywhars. You can still see how the bodies uv some uv 'cm crushed down the grass an' little bushes.”
“An' I'm thinkin',” said Shif'less Sol, as he looked at the trail that led away from the camp fire, “that some o' them little ones wuz gittin' pow'ful tired. Look how these here little trails are wobblin' about.”
“Hope we kin come up afore the Injuns begin to draw thar tomahawks,” said Tom Ross.
The others were silent, but they knew the dreadful significance of Tom's remark, and Henry glanced at them all, one by one.
“It's the greatest danger to be feared,” he said, “and we must overtake them in the night when they are not suspecting. If we attack by day they will tomahawk the captives the very first thing.”
“Shorely,', said the shiftless one.
“Then,” said Henry, “we don't need to hurry. We'll go on until about midnight, and then sleep until sunrise.”