“Now, then, out with your knife and off with the claws for the little woman at home with the black eyes,” said Arkal, wiping the perspiration from his brow, “and be quick about it, so as to have it done before the troops come up.”
The little man was not long in accomplishing the job, and he had just put the claws in his pouch, and was standing up to wipe his knife, when the captain suddenly grasped his arm and drew him behind the trunk of a tree, from which point of vantage he cautiously gazed with an anxious expression and a dark frown.
Chapter Twenty Eight.
Enemies, Friends, Scouts, Skirmishes, and Councils of War.
Arkal’s attention had been arrested by the figure of a man who suddenly appeared from behind a cliff not four hundred yards distant from the scene of their recent exploit. The stealthy manner in which the man moved among the bushes, and the earnest gaze which he directed from time to time in one particular direction, showed clearly that he was watching the movements of something—it might be a deer or an enemy.
“Evidently he has not seen us,” whispered Maikar.
“Clear enough that, for he is not looking this way,” returned Arkal. “He presents his back to us in a careless way, which he would hardly do if he knew that two crack bowmen were a hundred yards astern of him.”
“Shall I shoot him?” whispered Maikar, preparing his weapons.