In a short time the Indians got near enough to us to hail. “What are they saying?” I asked of Obed.
“Why, Dick, as far as I can make out, that they are friends,” he answered; “but, you know, these red-skin varmints are so treacherous, that we mustn’t trust them on no account. They may be old White Dog’s friends, or they may be some of the Flintheads. If they are the last, they’ll scalp us in another minute, or maybe they’ll try and get into the camp, and then play us some scurvy trick.”
These surmises were not pleasant. Still, we could not hope to cope with twelve well-armed Indians, with any chance of success, and we must therefore, we saw, attempt only pacific measures. In another minute they were up with us. They held out their hands in a friendly manner, and we observed that their general appearance was very similar to that of old White Dog. In a friendly manner, therefore, we proceeded towards the camp. When we got near, we made signs that we would go and prepare our friends for their reception. They made no objection to this, but, letting us go, squatted down on the snow about two hundred yards from the camp. Immediately we got in, we told Noggin, who interpreted our report to White Dog.
“Tell him not to show himself,” said Laban.
The old chief was, however, far too wide awake to do that. Covering himself up with one of our cloaks, so that even the sharp eyes of an Indian could not discover him, he crept to the north of the hut, and looked through the stockade. Noggin accompanied him.
“Flintheads,” whispered Noggin. “He says they are not his people. They are up to some deep treachery. They, of course, don’t know that old White Dog is here, and that we are warned of their intentions. What is to be done? I wish Short and the rest were here.”
Laban, after Noggin had spoken, stood for a minute or two in an attitude of reflection. I believe that if a great gun had been let off at his ear he would not have heard it just then. At length he said— “Wait till they come, and then we will let the red-skins enter the encampment. As they do so we must seize every mother’s son of them, and bind them all to the posts of the huts. We won’t brain them, as they would have brained us, and maybe the lesson we thus give them will teach them that the religion of the white-faces is better than that of the red-skins.”
We eagerly looked out for the return of the other scouts, for we were afraid that they might have been picked off by some prowling bands of Flintheads. Soon after daylight, however, they came in, without having seen any one. Our arrangements were speedily made. The women were to keep out of the way, and to pretend to be nursing the children. As we far outnumbered the Indians, two of us were told off to take charge of one of them, the rest were to act as a party of reserve to seize any who might escape. The instant they entered the camp they were to be seized, as, seeing us prepared to move, of course their suspicions would be aroused. Noggin, who best knew their ways, undertook to tell them that they might come in.
“The varmints, knowing their own treacherous ways, are so suspicious, that if we show that we are too willing to let them come, they’ll fancy that we’ve some plot in hand, and will be off to their friends.”
The gate of our stockade being opened, Noggin carelessly sauntered out and squatted himself down before the Indians, as if prepared for a regular palaver. Not to lose time, the rest of us got our breakfasts, harnessed the horses, and prepared for an immediate start. I must say I never bolted my food at such a rate as I did that morning. At last Noggin got up, and he and the Indians came towards the stockade. My heart beat in a curious way. We watched Noggin. He looked glum, and made no signal that we were to alter our tactics. The Indians all trooped in one after the other, looking sedate and quiet enough, but their dark eyes rolled furtively about, and there was a scowl on their brows, which showed that they were not altogether at their ease.