After a second or two spent in arranging the order of march, they also take it, Clancy now assuming command.
They proceed with caution greater than ever; more slowly too, because along a path, dark, narrow, unknown, shaggy with thorns. They have to grope every inch of their way; all the while in surprise at the Indians having chosen it. There must be a reason, though none of them can think what it is.
They are not long left to conjectures. A light before their eyes throws light upon the enigma that has been baffling their brains. There is a break in the timber, where the moonbeams fall free to the earth.
Gliding on, silently, with undiminished caution, they arrive on the edge of an opening, and there make stop, but inside the underwood that skirts it.
Clancy and Woodley stand side by side, crouchingly; and in this attitude interrogate the ground before them.
They see the great tree, with its white shroud above, and deep obscurity beneath—the moonlit ring around it. But at first nothing more, save the fire-flies scintillating in its shadow.
After a time, their eyes becoming accustomed to the cross light, they see something besides; a group of figures close in to the tree’s trunk, apparently composed of horses and men. They can make out but one of each, but they take it there are two, with two women as well. While scanning the group, they observe a light larger and redder than that emitted by the winged insects. Steadier too; for it moves not from its place. They might not know it to be the coal upon a tobacco pipe, but for the smell of the burning “weed” wafted their way.
Sniffing it, Sime says:
“That’s the lot, sure; tho’ thar appears but the half o’t. I kin only make out one hoss, an’ one man, wi’ suthin’ astreetch long the groun—one o’ the squaws in coorse. The skunk on his feet air smokin’. Strange they hain’t lit a fire! True ’tain’t needed ’ceptin’ for the cookin’ o’ thar supper. Maybe they’ve hed it, an’ only kim hyar to get a spell o’ sleep. But ef thet’s thar idee why shed yon ’un be stannin’ up. Wal; I guess, he’s doin’ sentry bizness, the which air allers needcessary out hyar. How shell we act, Charley? Rush right up an’ tackle ’em? That’s your way, I take it.”
“It is—why not?”