He did not rebuke me for such gross lack of discipline and respect—in fact, he seemed scarcely to heed at all what I said, but seated himself at the foot of a pine tree and lit his pipe. As I stood biting my lip and looking around at the woods encircling us, he beckoned two of his men, gave them some orders in a low voice, crossed one leg over the other, and continued to smoke the carved and painted Oneida pipe he carried in his shot-pouch.
I saw the two riflemen shoulder their long weapons and go forward in obedience to his orders; and when again I approached him he said:
"They will make plain to Sullivan what your Indians may garble in repeating—that I mean to await the army in this place and save my party these useless miles of travelling. Do you object?"
"Our men are not tired," I said, astonished, "and our advanced guard can not be very far away. Do you not think it more prudent for us to continue the movement toward our own people?"
"Very well—if you like," he said indifferently.
After a few minutes' inaction, he rose, sounded his whistle; the men got to their feet, fell in, and started, rifles a-trail. But we had proceeded scarcely a dozen rods into the big timber when we discovered our two riflemen, who had so recently left us, running back toward us and looking over their shoulders as they ran. When they saw us, they halted and shouted for us to hasten, as there were several Seneca Indians standing beside the trail ahead.
In a flash of intuition it came to me that here was a cleared runway to some trap.
"Don't leave the trail!" I said to Boyd. "Don't be drawn out of it now. For God's sake hold your men and don't give chase to those Indians."
"Press on!" said Boyd curtly; and our little column trotted forward.
Something crashed in a near thicket and went off like a deer. The men, greatly excited, strove to catch a glimpse of the running creature, but the bush was too dense.