“They must suppose there are no men in the country,” he said thoughtfully; “or else this is only a stratagem to take us out of our way, and gain time.”
“They could scarcely have ridden farther than this,” said White; “and if they are not yonder, we are entirely off the trail.”
“They must be there,” Edgar replied, decidedly: even as experienced a ranger as he could not but believe what he wished.
The advance continued—not swiftly, but steadily; for they were now less than two miles from the light, and the tall trees of the grove could be distinguished like shadows against the northern sky. The fire was evidently built within the skirts of the wood, and was now burning brightly, as if replenished with fuel since they had discovered it. Occasionally, it was hid from view—when they descended a slope and entered a hollow; and, sometimes shadows passed across it, as if persons were moving about it.
“They are certainly there,” thought Edgar, “and they must have built the fire on Jane’s account. Nothing else could induce them to be so incautious.” Bitter as was his hatred of the savage, this idea rather softened him; and, in the fight which he expected, he resolved to spare as many of them as possible.
He had now advanced within half a mile of the grove; and—though the fire itself was not visible—he could plainly see the reflection on the branches of the trees above. It grew brighter while he gazed, and they could almost imagine that they heard the crackling of dry branches in the blaze. The captain drew his rein, and called a halt.
“There should be a little clump of trees near here,” he said, gazing about in the gloom.
“It lies here, to the right,” said one of the rangers—and, riding a few rods in that direction, they found a small grove of stunted oaks, where they again halted and dismounted. Here they tied their horses, and having examined their arms, marched out upon the open prairie. Edgar briefly explained his plan of attack, and the advance was resumed.
His men were deployed—or spread out—to the right and left, at intervals of twelve or fifteen paces; the captain himself remaining in the centre, and moving directly upon the fire. By this means, he covered a wide extent of ground, and yet kept his men within supporting distance of each other. The flanks were to move a little faster than the centre, gradually converging, when within the grove, but awaiting a signal from the captain, before opening the attack. Each, on making any discovery, was to communicate it to the next, and thus pass it up the line to the captain; and his orders were conveyed in the same way. His immediate object was to discover the Indians’ horses, and thus preclude the carrying off of their prisoner by a portion of the savages, during his fight with the remainder.
He could not have been more impatient to reach the point—on which he was advancing—had it been the rustic bower where he might expect to meet his mistress alone; yet the movement was as slow as the stealthy pace of the tiger, while he is yet too distant to spring upon his victim. And it had all the tiger’s deadliness: for even the keen senses of the Indian could not have detected his enemy’s approach—the first signal could be but the crack of the rifle, the fierce onset, and the gleaming knife.