“If I thought he had drugged the whisky, curse me if I wouldn’t—”
He paused suddenly, for Zigler was asleep!
“Zig, this won’t do!” he said, with a smile, shaking his companion’s shoulder lightly. “We’re in the frying-pan yet. Wake up!”
Zigler responded with a swinish grunt.
“Well, sleep then,” said Whalley, supplementing his words with an oath. “I’ll watch the Indian myself!”
He fastened his eyes upon the Wyandot; but soon the Indian faded into a bluish mist, as it were, and the watcher was asleep, like his comrade!
Spagano looked at the sleepers, and glanced from them to the flask hanging at his waist. The glance was fraught with triumph, and breathed of the red-man’s proverbial treachery to the white.
He watched the guards for several minutes and then approached. The scrutiny pleased him, and he crawled from the camp and disappeared in the forest. He moved down the trail which the Night-Hawks had lately traversed, and thirty yards from the camp paused and put his ear to the ground.
All at once he started to his feet, and sprung toward the camp.
Excitement burned in his swarthy face; but he was calm withal, and when on the edge of the light of the dying fire, he dropped to the ground, and after listening a moment with head turned toward the wood, crawled forward to Huldah Armstrong’s cot.