It was shortly after half past eight o’clock when he started, and all wished him good luck.
“Injun be back by noon to-morrow. No get caught,” he said, as he slipped out the back door.
“Pray God he may get through safely,” Bob murmured, as he put the bar back in its place.
Sicum had whined to go with his master, but on being ordered to stay he seemed to understand, and made no further protest.
The Indian had been gone not more than ten minutes when a shot rang out in the forest back of the cabin. The four looked at each other and a look of terror was on every face. For a moment no one spoke, then Jack gasped.
“They’ve got him.”
“Let’s hope not,” Bob said in a low tone.
For a long time they listened hardly daring to breathe, but no more shots were heard and no sound from outside, save the creaking of the boughs as they rubbed in the light breeze, came to their ears.
“Suppose I sneak out and do a little scouting,” Jack proposed.
“I suppose you won’t,” Bob shook his head. “If they got him you could do him no good, and the chances are that they’d get you. No, our best bet is to stick close to the cabin and play it safe.”