t to you if somethin' of the kind don't seem reasonable,"
the old man replied, grimly, and then he set about making a dinner from
the supply of provisions we had found in the ravine.

After that I made no more effort to keep up a conversation, and tried very
hard to force from my mind any speculations regarding Jacob and his
father, but with poor success. It seemed as if every subject had some
bearing upon the matter, and so disagreeable was the constant harking back
to what was beyond my control, that I really felt glad when the shadows of
night began to lengthen, for almost any kind of action was better than
remaining there in hiding, eating one's heart out.

Sergeant Corney gave no sign that he realized night had come, until I
called his attention to the fact, and then he said:

"Ay, lad, the time is drawin' nigh; but I reckon that we'll be wise to
hold on as we are a spell longer."

Then he lay back as if bent on going to sleep, and I held my peace,
determined to say no more even though he remained there until sunrise.

It must have been ten o'clock before he showed signs of life, and then he
rose to his feet as he said:

"I allow that we'd better be movin', though there ain't any great need of
hurryin'. We'll be able to cover three miles in an hour, an' even then be
a bit early for good work."

"How will you set about findin' Jacob?" I asked, giving words to the
question which had been in my mind ever since we came to a halt.

"Our only chance is to keep movin' nearabout Thayendanega's camp, an'
trustin' to accident for comin' across him."

Sergeant Corney strapped his rifle on his back, as if believing he would
have no use for it; but he made certain his knife was loose in its sheath,
and I understood that if we had trouble it would be at close quarters.

At last we were ready, and this time the sergeant did not propose that I
lead the way.

He strode off in advance, with never a glance backward to see if I was
following, and in silence we went on toward the danger-point at a swift
pace, until the old man halted to say, in a whisper:

"There should be sentinels nearabout, unless Thayendanega believes he has
killed all the decent men in the Mohawk Valley; so have your wits about
you, lad, for a mistake now will cost us dearly."

Chapter IX.

The Indian Camp

I claim that it is nothing to my discredit when I say that there was a
great fear in my heart while we advanced at a snail's pace, a