The Sioux seemed highly elated by his acceptance of their proffered friendship, and as night drew on, they began to secrete themselves in the woods surrounding the point of rendezvous.
Old Tumult and Town., for the first time, had the opportunity of seeing a party of savages ambushing themselves for an unsuspecting enemy.
Half crouching, they glided here and there like so many shadows, their eyes flashing with an evil, cunning light. They burrowed themselves beneath the old leaves and grass like moles; they pressed themselves into holes and crevices where it seemed a serpent could not hide. In five minutes’ time, Old Tumult and Town. stood alone in the solitude of the great forest. It seemed almost impossible that they stood within a circle of three score blood-thirsty savages.
Night came on apace. There was a moon, but it would not be up till two hours after dark.
Our friends seated themselves in the path leading to the head of the Devil’s Staircase. They started when the sound of horse’s hoofs told them that some one was approaching from the east.
It was the ranger beyond a doubt.
Suddenly the tramp of the hoofs ceased, and a voice called out:
“Hallo, Tumult!”
“Ay, Rollo; so you’ve come,” responded the old scout.
They arose from their seat and approached the ranger, of whom they could catch a faint outline in the darkness.