"No," she answered. "I will go with you, I would rather."
They advanced together, Stane with his rifle ready for action, since a presence that avoided them might well prove to be an inimical one. He watched the bushes steadily as they advanced but saw nothing and when they reached them, thinking that the girl had been mistaken, he thrust his way through them. Then he stood quite still with an anxious look upon his face. There was no one behind the bushes, but there were the marks of moccasined feet in the snow. He looked down at them, then followed the direction of them with his eyes, and stared into the forest, and as he did so, in its dim recesses, thought he saw the figure of a man slip behind a tree. He still waited and watched, but the figure did not re-appear, then Helen who had walked round the bushes spoke.
"There was some one here!"
"Yes," he answered, "and whoever it was did not wish to encounter us. He has made his way into the wood."
"What do you think it means?"
"I do not know," he answered, "but I am afraid that there are hostile Indians about us."
"You think they are watching the cabin—watching us, for a chance to attack?"
"It has that appearance," answered Stane quietly.
The girl was silent for a moment, then she gave a little laugh that had in it a ring of courage. "I am not afraid, but I wish we had another rifle."
Stane flashed at her a glance of admiration, then gave another long look into the silent wood which now seemed full of menace.