Uncle Jeff having thus spoken, mounted to a window commanding the road by which the enemy were likely to approach; and there, after snatching a hasty meal, I quickly joined him. I first, however, took a glance out of another window, opening to the southward, as it was possible that some of the Indians might make their way over the hills so as to take us on the flank.
To each man was given his particular post, at which he was to remain until summoned elsewhere.
The time now seemed to go by very slowly.
“I do not think they will come, after all,” I observed to Uncle Jeff; “more than an hour has passed since Bartle returned.”
He looked at his watch. “It is not one o’clock yet,” he observed; “and Bartle does not often make a mistake.”
Just as he spoke, I saw the plumes of a chief’s head-dress rising over a point of rocky ground round which the road passed, and shortly afterwards a band of painted warriors came into view. They approached very cautiously, and gazed about them, as if expecting at any moment to encounter an enemy. Finding, however, that none of us were visible, they began to advance at a more rapid rate. Immediately afterwards I saw another and a much larger party coming over the hill, who, as they drew near, scattered themselves in every direction, so as to be able to get under shelter behind the intervening rocks and shrubs.
“Tell the men to be ready,” cried Uncle Jeff; “and charge them not to fire until I give the word,—they must not throw a shot away.”
I ran hastily round the building, and ascertained that every man was at his post, prepared for whatever might happen. I then returned to Uncle Jeff for further orders.
Presently an Indian belonging to the party which had descended the hill advanced towards the house with a white handkerchief on a pole.
“The fellows have some pretensions to civilisation,” said Uncle Jeff when he saw it; “perhaps their white friends have put them up to that.”