The three in the grass peered anxiously at the hazy group about the strange camp fire.
"Me go back," said their Indian companion, suddenly. "Tell Telca enemy here. White boy get canoe. Good-bye."
He held out a dark hand to Fritz and Dick, and squeezed each of their hands.
"Tell Telca good-bye," said Dick. "White boys never forget Indian's friendship."
The Indian nodded, and turning, crawled off through the grass toward the shelter of the woods beyond the trail. The firing had grown more brisk from the rear, and although they were so far away, the boys could hear the loud roll of the British firing line, and the occasional barks of the Redskins' rifles.
Suddenly out of the mist near them, the new Indian party emerged, running warily toward the sound of the fight. Dick and Fritz ducked down into the grass just in time to save discovery. The ten Redskins filed past toward the trail, and when they were almost out of sight the two patriots began to move cautiously toward the deserted camp. The fire was smoking and smouldering, and on the shore were five canoes, all of bark, drawn up clear of the water and inverted to keep them dry inside.
"Fine," ejaculated Dick. "There doesn't seem to be any difference in these canoes, Fritz. Grab hold of that end and we'll slide her into the stream."
"You such a robber are I vill pe afraid to stay py you again," said Fritz.
"All's fair in war, you know," replied Dick.
"Couldn't ve py any possibility take all five mit us?" asked Fritz.