Muro saw the commotion, and sprang to the tree. “Kurabus,” was all he said.
This startling announcement was received in astonishment. Had Stut’s mission failed? It was now the sixth day of his departure. It is true that they might easily have trailed the route the wagon had made, but why should they openly and boldly march down into a country belonging to another tribe?
“Either this is debatable ground, and the Kurabus are at war with the two tribes in our front, or they are after us.”
“What course would you advise?” asked Blakely.
“It is entirely out of the question for me to visit the Osagas now. I see no other remedy but to fight, and we might as well give them the lesson of their lives. This is the time to be the aggressors. I do not mean that we shall needlessly expose ourselves, but we must shoot to kill, and not hesitate in the slightest.”
The boys knew what that meant, and it pleased them. The Kurabus came in sight so the tree was not needed to distinguish their movements. The wagon had been put in such a position that it was shielded from their foes on the south, but to the north it was exposed.
“Here, quick, boys, cut down branches of trees and put them up on the north side of the wagon to hide the light-colored top,” was John’s first order.
The nearest bushes were selected, and a fairly good imitation of a bush was prepared in haste, and they awaited the attack. To their surprise they saw several warriors in the lead, as scouts.
“They are getting very wise, in employing the scouting tactics, and this shows they are after some game, whether it is the other tribe’s or some one else.” John cautioned silence, and then continued:
“Their scouts will, of course, discover us before the main body comes up. We must not fire on the advance parties. Wait until they attempt a rush, so we can get enough of them in reach to make it count.”