"Shall I ever forget it? I thought every moment would be my last when the broadsides opened upon us."
"Hush! What was that?"
The hoot of an owl was distinctly heard twice, and a moment afterwards it was answered by the call of the night-raven. The first call seemed to come from the depth of the forest on the other side of the river.
Scarcely had the last sound died away when the two Indians who remained in the camp, though apparently fast asleep, sprang to their feet, seized their rifles and disappeared into the thicket. Several of the men half raised themselves, looked around, and then lay down once more.
For a moment the boys listened in silence, their faces turned first to the deep gloom of the forest shades, half expecting to hear from thence the deadly whoop of the fierce Iroquois, and to see the rush of savage warriors upon the sleeping camp, then they looked suspiciously across the stream that flowed at their feet.
Overhead the stars shone brightly, and the placid stream reflected their fiery points on its broad bosom. Now and again its mirrored surface was broken by the splash of the salmon and the large river-trout.
"'Twas only a bird after all, Jack. Let us go to sleep. See, the men are sleeping peacefully."
"If 'twas only a bird, then why did the Indians leave to join the scouts?"
"I can't say. Perhaps 'twas only a private call for extra scouts. You know the call to arms is the howl of the coyote, repeated twice. Besides, 'tisn't likely that the enemy will get through the scouts without being seen. An Indian is all eyes, even in the dark."
The boys laid down again, but though Jamie was soon asleep Jack remained awake, gazing up at those bright twinkling points, and listening acutely for any sound that might come. Once or twice he raised himself and looked around.