Then the outlaws seized the pliant paddles, and the two big boats moved rapidly down the current.
For the dusk that stretched before the voyagers seemed to breathe of a lurking foe.
Splitlog and his companions watched the boats until a bend in the river hid them from sight.
“Now,” said the chief, turning away, “the white man’s fort falls. The night is coming on, and the flames of the big timbers must light the sky.”
But other scenes than the taking of the block-house, were to demand the Wyandot’s attention before dawn.
CHAPTER X.
BAFFLED IN AMBUSH.
An hour after the departure of the exiles, night spread her pall over the earth, and two men scaled the stockade of Fort Strong and glided toward the hill lately tenanted by the foe.
The spies—for spies the couple undoubtedly were—boasted of white skins, and the moon, just rising and showering her light through the trees beside the river, proclaimed them Wolf-Cap and Mark Harmon.
“I can’t understand this silence,” remarked the old trapper to his companion. “Surely the demons hevn’t given over the attack.”
“Perhaps they have quarreled among themselves,” said young Harmon.