“Smilin’ as a May mornin’,” replied Nat. “What was it scart this fellar out of his seven senses? Injuns?”
“Wal,” said Vic, “I’ve a notion thar’s some ’bout, an’ has been for sev’ral days; but we didn’t see any thing only some tracks; an’ that, on top of a raisin’-ha’r story I’ve jist been gittin’ off, started him. Varmints! but he measured sile without wastin’ time!”
“I should rather think he did,” said Wild Nat, laughing. “Whar’s yer camp?”
“’Bout forty rods off,” was the reply; “let’s turn toes that way. Jist ’tween us, now, I shouldn’t wonder if we had a scrimmage ’fore mornin’. They’re round.”
“Seen any, Vic?” asked Kent.
“No hain’t seen any, but I’ve seen signs, which are all the same. I told the train they’d better be cautious, an’ not wander off fur, an’ keep track of the young ones. They are not fur off, an’ I know it.”
“I shouldn’t wonder ef it war the same ones thet sarved me thet ongentlemanly trick,” said Nat. “Ef it are, an’ I git at ’em, they’ll wish they’d not made my acquaintance.”
“Hark!”
It was the wild, piercing scream of a female, for help, and sounded in the direction of the emigrant-camp.
Twice it was repeated—each time more wild and despairing than before; then all was still.