All this conversation passed in an instant, for there was no time to waste, or, rather, there was risk in prolonging the discussion.
All halted their horses, and almost simultaneously they were surrounded by the Indians.
The chief made a signal for them to dismount. Lycurgus Spooner was the first to obey. It was not his first experience of Indian captivity, and he knew that prompt obedience would be wise.
His example was followed by Peter Brush and Tom, who with much apprehension and anxious hearts leaped to the ground, to find themselves hemmed in by savage forms, and faces grave but void of expression, but even in their self-repression inspiring fear.
At a signal three warriors led off the horses. Tom fancied that the Indian who led Dr. Spooner’s horse regarded the thin, bony beast with contempt, but he might have been mistaken.
Dr. Spooner, Peter Brush and Tom were ranged in line, and conducted toward the camp-fire, preceded and followed by an Indian guard.
It must not be supposed that they were allowed to retain their fire-arms. Their rifles were taken from them, and the acquisition of these arms appeared to yield their captors considerable satisfaction. They had learned to value these articles, which were to them of practical value.
Who shall say what thoughts surged up in the heart of our young hero, as he found himself in the power of a people of whom he had read so much? He remembered a thin, paper-covered novel, which he had read only the previous summer in the security of home, in which had been described the captivity of a boy of his own age. Little did he dream at that time that he himself would ever be the hero of a similar adventure. It was romantic, certainly, but Tom would readily have surrendered all the romance of the situation for a quiet seat in his humble home far away.