"Stand still, Sandy!" said Bob in a low tone, fearing that his impulsive brother was about to take desperate chances in leaping at the four French trappers; "all may not yet be lost. Hold hard for just another minute, I beg of you!"
Something in Bob's tone gave Sandy a new lease of life. It was as though he had made a discovery that meant hope. And this was, indeed, what had happened, for, just five seconds before, Bob had seen a head suddenly raised above the surrounding bushes; and even in the dull light of the dying fire he believed that he had recognized the well known features of Pat O'Mara!
CHAPTER XXII
THE TABLES TURNED
Fortunately Bob understood what part he ought to take in the turning of the tables on the quartette of Frenchmen. If he could only hold their attention for a brief time, Pat O'Mara might creep up close enough to spring his surprise.
That one glimpse which Bob had taken had shown him another thing; the Irish frontiersman was not alone! In several other places the bushes were waving slightly, proclaiming that others must also be advancing cautiously toward the council oak.
He knew not whom they might be, and, beyond the possibility of Blue Jacket constituting one of the number, could not even guess who were Pat's comrades. But it was positive that they must be friends, else they would not be up here along the border of the Great Lakes, spying upon the grand council of the tribes in league with that trouble-maker, Pontiac.
And so wise Bob immediately set to work to hold the attention of Larue and his three companions. Seconds would count just then, since their friends were crawling closer and closer all the time.
"Wait for a minute, please, gentlemen all!" he cried, holding up a hand, as he saw Armand take a step forward, doubtless eager to bind with deerskin thongs the lads he hated so bitterly.