The young Indian pointed. “Right there,” he said.
Dick’s heart nearly stood still. The canoe was farther up the bank than he had expected. The three men had carried it within thirty feet of the place where they had built their fire. Its graceful lines standing out sharply against the background of green brush—never had the boys looked upon anything they wanted so much and yet which seemed so unattainable. Even if Wolf Brennan and his two unprepossessing companions were sleeping soundly, how could they ever contrive to creep up there unheard, pick up the canoe and make their way back to the river?
It would be a terrible risk. Careful though they might be, it would be almost impossible to secure the prize without arousing the sleepers. Disheartened, the boys crouched down close to the bank.
“Guess we’ll have to give it up,” murmured Sandy, “We’ll lose our lives in the attempt.”
Dick groaned. “And when they wake up, they’ll start up the river again and we’ll probably never have another chance.”
As he spoke, he looked at Toma and noticed a sudden sparkle of determination in the young Indian’s eyes. Toma had become excited, restless. His hands moved along the edge of the bank nervously.
“Tell you what we do,” he proposed. “I have plan. Listen, Dick. You two fellows stay here. Keep down close to bank so they no see you. While you do that I circle round through the trees an’ come down on them from above, making loud noise. Pretty soon I wake ’em up. I try keep hid. By an’ by, them fellows think mebbe it’s a bear an’ come up an’ try find it. Soon they do that, you, Sandy run up quick, get canoe.”
“And leave you in the lurch,” protested Sandy. “I guess not. You’ll get a bullet for your pains.”
Toma shook his head. “No ’fraid of that. I keep plenty hid alla time. Pretty soon them fellows give up an’ go back to camp.”
“But what will you do?” inquired Dick.