"Going to march some more," replied the chief. "Redcoat man too near."
Fritz gave a longing glance at his heap of pine boughs, where he had hoped to pass the rest of the night, shouldered his gun, and trudged off with a sigh after Dick.
CHAPTER XIII. THE CLIFF DROP.
Tom Dare and Tim returned somewhat slowly to the camp after the firing had ceased, and the Indians had retired from the attack.
"It's hard to see any man shot down before your eyes," said Tom, "but it's a good thing for you and I, Tim, that the trooper that heard Dick call us by name isn't here to tell the story."
"Sure, if he was, it's you and I, me bye, would now be chasin' the woods through trying to foind that brother of yours and his rid skinned frinds."
"Come along, we'll go report to the major, and see where we stand," said Tom.
"Good," replied Tim, "Do you know, Tom, it's a lucky thing for us, it is, thot with thot crazy Dootchman firin' at us we wern't kilt entirely."