With
a bound of returning sense I looked for Weldon. He had fallen asleep on
the bank above, his body dropped across the trunk of the oak. I leaped
on the trunk and made my way along it, stepping over him, until I
reached and hid myself in the great roots of the tree on the bank above.
The cold shiver of the dawn was in my body as I waited and listened.
Should I wake Tom? The vast forest was silent, and yet in its shadowy
depths my imagination drew moving forms. I hesitated.

The light grew: the boles of the trees came out, one by one, through the
purple. The tangled mass down the creek took on a shade of green, and
a faint breath came from the southward. The sorrel mare sniffed it, and
stamped. Then silence again,--a long silence. Could it be that the cane
moved in the thicket? Or had my eyes deceived me? I stared so hard that
it seemed to rustle all over. Perhaps some deer were feeding there,
for it was no unusual thing, when we rose in the morning, to hear the
whistle of a startled doe near our camping ground. I was thoroughly
frightened now,--and yet I had the speculative Scotch mind. The thicket
was some one hundred and fifty yards above, and on the flooded lands
at a bend. If there were Indians in it, they could not see the sleeping
forms of our party under me because of a bend in the stream. They might
have seen me, though I had kept very still in the twisted roots of the
oak, and now I was cramped. If Indians were there, they could determine
our position well enough by the occasional stamping and snorting of the
horses. And this made my fear more probable, for I had heard that horses
and cattle often warned pioneers of the presence of redskins.

Another thing: if they were a small party, they would probably seek to
surprise us by coming out of the cane into the creek bed above the
bend, and stalk down the creek. If a large band, they would surround and
overpower us. I drew the conclusion that it must be a small party--if a
party at all. And I would have given a shot in the arm to be able to see
over the banks of the creek. Finally I decided to awake Tom.

It was no easy matter to get down to where he was without being seen
by eyes in the cane. I clung to the under branches of the oak, finally
reached the shelving bank, and slid down slowly. I touched him on the
shoulder. He awoke with a start, and by instinct seized the rifle lying
beside him.

"What is it, Davy?" he whispered.

I told what had happened an