ken
supper? Were the friends being drawn into a skilfully laid ambush? Such
were some of the questions they asked themselves as they stood in the
darkness of the forest, waiting for the cause of all this apprehension
to come forth and show himself.

Suddenly the same soft rustling of the leaves was detected and whoever
was the cause thereof was plainly approaching the camp fire. Then a form
issued into view and paused. It was Lena-Wingo, the Mohawk. His friends
instantly gathered about him to learn the success of his errand, and the
explanation of the report of the rifle.

"You hear gun?" asked the red scout.

"Of course we did," answered Ned, "and what did it mean?"

The old grin came back to the face of the Mohawk as he replied: "That
gun fired by white man. He aim at Lena-Wingo!" was the astounding
information he gave his companions.

CHAPTER VIII.

MR. ISAAC PERKINS.

Grinning in his imperturbable fashion, the Mohawk turned part way round,
and made a signal, evidently for some one invisible to all. Be that as
it may, it was instantly responded to by the coming forward of a man in
the ordinary dress of a farmer settler of the valley. He had an honest
countenance, and was about forty years old. As he came into full view,
so that the firelight fell full upon his face, he was recognized as an
old acquaintance, named Perkins, who lived but a short distance from
where the camp fire was burning.

"Wall, how are ye all?" he asked in a drawling voice and an accent that
betrayed the fact that he was one of the descendants of the Connecticut
pioneers that built Forty Fort, not a great many years before. "I say,
how are ye all?" he continued, as he began shaking hands round. "I'll be
shot if I expected to see any one of ye folks round here. I say, how
are ye all agin?"

"Well, Ike," replied Ned Clinton, who was well acquainted with him, and
felt authorized to answer, "we are all right, as you can see for
yourself, and you seem to be equally fortunate."

"Wall, I s'pose I am," was the hesitating answer, "the main trouble
being that we have been suffering for the last few days from a dreadful
scare; but then we hain't been injured in any way, thanks be to the Lord
for it all."

"Then you aren't alone--"

"Yes, I am," interrupted the farmer; "that is, when I'm abroad."

The precise meaning of this was not clear to the listeners, but Ned
continued without noticing it:

"I did not see you in the battle, Mr