“Go sleep now,” said Jerry, after they had done. “Me watch one hour.”
Gladly Cameron availed himself of the opportunity to catch up his sleep, in which he was many hours behind. He stretched himself on the ground and in a moment's time lay as completely unconscious as if dead. But before half of his allotted time was gone he was awakened by Jerry's hand pressing steadily upon his arm.
“Indian come,” whispered the half-breed. Instantly Cameron was wide-awake and fully alert.
“How many, Jerry?” he asked, lying with his ear to the ground.
“Dunno. T'ree—four mebbe.”
They had not long to wait. Almost as Jerry was speaking the figure of an Indian came into view, running with that tireless trot that can wear out any wild animal that roams the woods.
“Copperhead!” whispered Cameron, tightening his belt and making as if to rise.
“Wait!” replied Jerry. “One more.”
Following Copperhead, and running not close upon him but at some distance behind, came another Indian, then another, till three had passed their hiding-place.
“Four against two, Jerry,” said Cameron. “That is all right. They have their knives, I see, but only one gun. We have no guns and only one knife. But Jerry, we can go in and kill them with our bare hands.”