Both men now understood that treachery was in the wind, and that a night attack was highly probable; and, of course, they felt desperately anxious to jump up and fly back to the camp to warn their comrades—for their only fear was a surprise. The half-breeds being far more numerous than the Indians, and well entrenched, there could be no fear for them if prepared.
Just then, as if to favour them, the moon retired behind a huge black cloud.
Without a moment’s hesitation Dan began to creep away back, closely followed by Fergus. They gave a wide berth of course to the sentinel, and soon regained the hollow where the horses had been left. Here they breathed more freely.
“Who would have thought this of Okématan?” muttered Dan, as he hastily tightened his saddle-girths.
“The rascal!” exclaimed Fergus, in deep tones of indignation.
“You must gallop back to camp at once, Fergus,” said Dan, as they mounted. “I will go on to Red River alone.”
“What! will you not be coming with me?” asked the Highlander, in some surprise.
“There is no need, for there will be no fighting,” returned the other. “Our fellows far outnumber the Red-skins, and when the latter find that we have been warned, and are on our guard, they won’t attack us, depend on it. But you’ll have to ride fast, for when such fellows make up their minds to strike they don’t usually waste time in delivering the blow. My business presses, I must go on.”
A minute later, and Dan Davidson was galloping towards the Settlement alone, while Fergus made the best of his way back to the camp of the buffalo runners.