In a very brief time all three had reached the first huge branches of the oak. Here a small platform had been built, consisting of only two or three planks, but they were so arranged that when the three fugitives lay down there was sufficient room for them all. These planks had been cunningly concealed by branches and moss, though naturally the boys did not know this in the darkness. It was about all they could do to make out the indistinct outlines of the nearby trees.
The description of their activities required more time than Deerfoot and his two companions consumed in their efforts to gain this place of refuge. In a very short time they were lying prone on the platform and peering eagerly down into the depths of the forest. They had moved cautiously and silently and well it was that they had made no noise. Scarcely were they settled in the place before shadowy forms began to flit past them in the dim light below.
No war whoops now were heard. The redmen were on the trail to avenge their dead comrade and the one who had been wounded, and now that night had fallen they had no desire to disclose their position. Joseph and Robert could not repress an involuntary shudder as they watched their pursuers speed past them. At the same time they had a feeling of satisfaction as they thought that they had thus far outwitted their foes and for the present at least were comparatively safe.—
Twenty-seven warriors passed beneath the platform in the old oak tree, according to Joseph’s count. Certainly there were enough of them to overcome any resistance the three fugitives could furnish. Night came on, but not for a moment was the vigilance of any one on the platform relaxed. Hour after hour dragged by and soon the dawn would appear. Robert understood as well as Joseph and Deerfoot, that when morning came their position would no longer be safe. With the coming of the morning light the hostile Indians would surely discover their trail and follow it to the base of the large oak tree. If they were to escape, now was the time to do so.
“Come,” said Deerfoot in a low voice.
He cautiously arose and started to make his way down the strange stairway. Joseph and Robert followed closely behind. Slowly and as quietly as possible they descended the tree and soon their feet were on solid ground once more. There they stood for a moment, and then, with Deerfoot in the lead, they started to retrace their course of the night before.
They had covered a hundred yards or more when suddenly from a bush almost directly in front of them came the sharp bark of a rifle. A bullet whistled over their heads.
CHAPTER III
A DEVASTATED HOME
All three immediately dropped on their hands and knees. Rifles in hand they scurried for the nearest shelter and awaited developments. A puff of smoke floated upward from the bush whence the shot had come, as the three fugitives stretched themselves prone behind the trunk of a large fallen tree. After many moments of waiting Deerfoot cautiously raised his head.
He dropped back again quickly, however, as a rifle ball splintered the bark scarcely ten inches from him. Evidently their enemy was keeping a sharp lookout. Apparently there was only one Indian in the bush, but neither of the two young pioneers nor their red ally cared to take any chances with him. For some moments there was absolute silence in that part of the forest where this little drama was being enacted.