Not a word was spoken during this tedious journey, which took upwards of an hour, lest a solitary sentinel should discover their approach. Once, indeed, they passed within a hundred feet of a scout, without even raising his suspicions. At length they paused for a moment to rest at the bottom of a little densely-wooded hillock, scarce an arrow-flight from the camp. They were entirely hidden in the thick shrub, and were so close to the enemy that they could hear the voices of the Indians, and see the blue smoke curling up from their fire, though the fire itself they could not see, because of the little brow or hillock that intervened.
Then they crawled from their hiding-place, through the brush to the top of the brow, and looked down upon the encampment. They doffed their beaver caps, and only permitted their eyes to peep for an instant at the scene below, lest the sharp glance of a warrior should chance to see them, but what a thrill came to Jamie's heart!
Thirty or forty braves were standing or lying about, some of them in little groups occasionally pointing to the forest. Others were examining their rifles and knives, as though expecting to be attacked. A few were hanging over the remains of a feast, the remnants of a deer. But what remained longest in Jamie's memory, during that brief glance, and excited his feelings most, was the sight of his two comrades bound to a huge tree near the middle of the camp. Whether they had already suffered torture or not, or were merely waiting helplessly until such time as pleased their captors to commence their vile and fiendish practices, he knew not; but his own feelings were roused to such a pitch of fury by the sight that it needed all his strength of will to command his feelings, and to restrain his desire to rush forward and liberate the prisoners.
Just at that moment a hand was placed upon his shoulder, and a voice whispered--
"Come!"
He turned and followed the trapper quietly until they were once more ensconced in their late hiding-place.
They were not a moment too soon, for scarcely had they hidden themselves when a scout came along, peering amongst the trees and bushes, as though expecting to find an enemy behind every cover. Suddenly he stopped almost opposite to them, and looked suspiciously at the ground.
Something unusual had evidently attracted his attention. What was it? He was within a few feet of their trail. Had he discovered it? It was a critical moment for the two palefaces. A single movement, however slight, would betray them. It was dangerous to breathe even, or to stir an inch, for the crackling of a twig would have been fatal. Their very lives hung on a slender thread.
CHAPTER XVII
A BROKEN SCALPING-KNIFE