e had of conducting his own business.

As the party had secured a meal, the next thing was to find the canoe
with which to cross the Susquehanna, a proceeding that had been delayed
so long that more than one of the little company began to feel a
superstitious fear that it might be they were doomed to stay forever on
this side. This was a duty which, as a matter of course, belonged to the
Mohawk, and, after his usual admonition to his friends about keeping
silent during his absence, he went off again. As there was no telling
how long the red scout would be gone, it remained for the three friends
to content themselves as best they could until his return. This was a
comparatively easy matter, or would have been, but for the memory of
that single rifle shot heard but a short time before reaching this spot.

"I think the best thing we can do," said Ned Clinton, "is to let this
fire go out, or leave it altogether. We are too conspicuous here, and,
as the night is quite warm, we can stay in one part as well as another."

"I would rather do it than not," replied Jo, "if we had only asked Red
Jack before he went away; but it seems to be always an unlucky thing for
us when we disregard his instructions."

"What do you think of it?" asked Ned, turning to Rosa, who, up to this
time, had held her peace.

"I suppose Lena-Wingo would not be likely to make any objection, and if
he did, I don't see why we should stay here and expose ourselves to
danger on his account."

"Very well, I agree to that--"

To the amazement of all, a second report, apparently of the same gun,
broke in upon their startled ears.

By a common instinct, they sprang to their feet, and started off in the
gloom, expecting to learn the cause of the strange firing. The sound of
some one hurrying rapidly over the leaves was heard by all, and Ned
Clinton whispered to the rest:

"Quick! Back, out of the way!"

While the words were still in his mouth, the three retreated into the
darkness of the woods beyond the light of the camp fire, and paused,
waiting, watching and listening. The rustling of the leaves, which had
alarmed them so much a short time before, was heard no more, and the
same oppressive, because suggestive, silence held reign. Who had fired
the gun? At whom was it pointed? Was the marksman a white or red man?
Were there more of the Iroquois in the immediate vicinity, and were they
stealing up to this camp where the little party of fugitives had ta