en they'll march to
a place called Tioga. The white men an' I hear that's to be a lot uv
'em-will join 'em thar or sooner. They've sent chiefs all the way to our
Congress at Philydelphy, pretendin' peace, an' then, when they git our
people to thinkin' peace, they'll jump on our settlements, the whole
ragin' army uv 'em, with tomahawk an' knife. A white man named John
Butler is to command 'em."

Paul shuddered.

"I've heard of him," he said. "They called him 'Indian' Butler at
Pittsburgh. He helped lead the Indians in that terrible battle of the
Oriskany last year. And they say he's got a son, Walter Butler, who is
as bad as he is, and there are other white leaders of the Indians, the
Johnsons and Claus."

"'Pears ez ef we would be needed," said Tom Ross.

"I don't think we ought to hurry," said Henry. "The more we know about
the Indian plans the better it will be for the Wyoming people. We've a
safe and comfortable hiding place here, and we can stay and watch the
Indian movements."

"Suits me," drawled Shif'less Sol. "My legs an' arms are still stiff
from them deerskin thongs an' ez Long Jim is here now to wait on me I
guess I'll take a rest from travelin."

"You'll do all your own waitin' on yourself," rejoined Long Jim; "an' I'm
afraid you won't be waited on so Pow'ful well, either, but a good deal
better than you deserve."

They lay on the islet several days, meanwhile keeping a close watch
on the Indian camp. They really had little to fear except from hunting
parties, as the region was far from any settled portion of the country,
and the Indians were not likely to suspect their continued presence.
But the hunters were numerous, and all the squaws in the camp were busy
jerking meat. It was obvious that the Indians were preparing for a great
campaign, but that they would take their own time. Most of the scouting
was done by Henry and Sol, and several times they lay in the thick
brushwood and watched, by the light of the fires, what was passing in
the Indian camp.

On the fifth night after the rescue of Long Jim, Henry and Shif'less Sol
lay in the covert. It was nearly midnight, but the fires still burned
in the Indian camp, warriors were polishing their weapons, and the women
were cutting up or jerking meat. While they were watching they heard
from a point to the north the sound of a voice rising and failing in a
kind of chant.

"Another war party comin'," whispered Shif'less Sol, "an' singin' about
the v