CHAPTER IV.

BETWEEN TWO FIRES.

Two hours from the time of starting, Old Ruff and Harry Northend were within a hundred yards of the Blackfoot camp.

Fortunately for them, they halted in the midst of a dense growth of pines, where they had plenty of opportunity to maneuver and keep themselves invisible.

They were so close to the camp that the voices of the red-skins could be heard, and Harry even caught the smell of burning meat, proving that, as the trapper had said, they had come ashore for the purpose of preparing their meal. Such being the case, they were not likely to remain in camp for a very long time.

Robsart had brought the boy closer to this congregation of red-skins than was prudent, and he expressed regret at doing so, but the young fellow was so brave and eager that it was hard to refuse him such a request. But he was determined that he should not advance another step.

“Stay right here where you are,” he added, in an impressive whisper, “and keep mighty shady.”

It may be supposed that the lad scarcely needed these instructions, as his own sense would have taught him their importance.

Although he felt equal to the task of reconnoitering the camp himself, yet he dare not propose such a wild scheme to the old hunter, whose especial province it was to attend to such perilous enterprises himself.

Leaving the latter to carry out the dangerous reconnoissance upon which he had started, we must take the space to describe the strange adventure that befell the lad, who, it would seem, was placed in much the lesser peril.

His situation was interesting and exciting from its proximity to camp, as he could hear the jingle and mumble and guttural hum of the Blackfeet, as they gathered around the fire, eating and smoking in the very _abandon_ of enjoyment.

“I don’t think there is much chance of Little Rifle being there,” mused Harry, when he found himself alone. “If she were among them we would have seen something of her with the telescope, but Old Ruff sees a chance or he wouldn’t have undertaken it.”

It was comparatively an easy matter for Harry to content himself for a short time, lying down among the bushes, listening to the noise of the red-skins; but, when a half-hour had passed, and the noise decreased, and he saw nothing of old Robsart, he began to feel impatient. He could not understand why it was that the old hunter should remain away so long, when he seemed to accomplish nothing thereby. It seemed to him that the red-skins had all gone asleep or taken their departure, and he and his friend were wasting valuable time.

But the half-hour was doubled and trebled, and then the lad made the exceedingly imprudent resolution to steal a little ways toward the camp—just far enough to get the slightest glimpse, and find out for himself the meaning of this strange silence and delay. He deemed it necessary only to crawl forward a short distance, confident that he could detect the presence of danger in time to withdraw, if indeed there was any possibility of encountering any such thing.

It was with some twitchings and misgivings that Harry began creeping forward, knowing that it was in direct violation of the commands of the old hunter, who would not be apt to look lightly upon such an offense should he discover it.

This caused him to hesitate a few minutes, but hearing and seeing nothing more, he began stealing forward on his hands and knees, advancing inch by inch, frequently pausing and listening, and peering round in the undergrowth, so as to guard against any danger stealing upon him from any direction.

Two or three times he was on the eve of retreating, and he looked furtively back over the course he had come—but the continued silence, and his impatience prevented, and he pressed on, until he judged that he had passed fully one-half the distance that intervened between him and his starting-point.

Thus far he had carried his rifle with him, and it had proved no little impediment, besides incurring the constant danger of being discharged from the hammer catching in some of the bushes and undergrowth.

The lad had now reached a point perilously near the Blackfoot camp, and although he could no longer hear any sounds of the savages, he felt that a dozen feet further must reveal them to him, and in all probability solve the question as to the delay of Robsart.

“I will lay my gun down,” he reflected, “so that I can crawl a few steps further, in perfect quiet, and with that much less risk of being discovered.”

Harry was not the simpleton to separate himself voluntarily from his weapon, when he believed there was the remotest possibility of his needing it, nor, were the circumstances all in his favor, would he leave it beyond his reach.

But, it will be remembered that it was a heavy gun, and that it seriously interfered with his progress; so he laid it carefully down, pointing the muzzle a little to the right, so that, in case of accident, no harm could come to him.

Satisfied, then, that he had done no imprudent thing, he resumed his progress upon his hands and knees, moving slowly, cautiously and stealthily, eyes and ears on the alert for the slightest indication of danger.

All was still—nothing being heard but the soft flow of the river, and softly drawing the undergrowth aside, he crept onward, until he was fully a dozen feet from where his gun lay.

Still he was unable to catch the coveted glimpse of the camp, and he paused, thinking that there was already too great a distance between him and his weapon, and resolved to return and bring it back and place it nearer to him.

But the path which he had made in his panther-like progress was clear and open, and he could dart backward in an instant and seize it; and so, hesitating but a few seconds, he resumed his advance, with the determination that, at the most, he should not go more than a yard further—just enough to pass through an unusually matted mass of vegetation, that feebly barred in his progress.

One step further, and both hands sunk into a cavity in the ground, a couple of feet in depth—so suddenly and unexpectedly that he pitched head-foremost, making a terrible breaking and threshing of the shrubbery.

Harry was not hurt in the least, but he was almost paralyzed with terror; for he was certain that the whole camp must be alarmed, and the Blackfeet would be swarming around his head before he could rise or make any attempt to retreat.

He did not seek to do so, but lay still, listening with a throbbing heart, and conjuring all manner of dreadful consequences that were sure to follow this mishap upon his part. As a matter of course he lamented his rashness, with the most bitter feelings, but it was all useless now, and he lay still, with a grim resolve to take the punishment unflinchingly.

A few seconds only had passed, when he heard footsteps, but to his surprise, instead of being in front, they were in the rear. Some one was approaching from that direction!

Like a flash he thought of his gun, and of the supremely silly thing he had done in placing it beyond his reach. As he was about to scramble forth in an attempt to reach it before his enemy, it occurred to him that it might be Old Ruff, who was searching for him. He would have preferred almost to have seen a Blackfoot, rather than be caught in this dilemma by the trapper, for the latter, discovering his foolhardiness this early in the business, would be certain to lose all patience with him, and send him on to the fort, while he continued the hunt alone.

The poor lad was in a sad predicament, not daring to move from where he was, in either direction; for to retreat would only bring him face to face with the Blackfoot, if such he were, and to advance would be to throw himself into the hands of the whole party.

“And if he catches me here,” he reflected, in the intensity of his chagrin, “he will find me without any weapon except the knife and telescope,” and he added, with something of his natural drollery, “there is no need of my looking through the glass to bring the danger any nearer, or to make it appear any bigger; for it is too near and too big already.”

The extreme slowness of the party approaching him satisfied Harry that it must be an Indian scout, who may have been on the look-out for just such interlopers as he.

At the same time he thought the red-skin was making an unusual racket, for such a proceeding. He could hear the motion of the feet—soft and heavy—and the bending and breaking of the shrubbery beneath his passage, as though he was taking no pains to hide his approach.

“What’s the use of it?” he reflected; “he knows he’s got a sure thing of it.”

By this time he gave up all hope or fear of its being old Robsart, and was certain that it was one of the dreaded Indians, who, knowing that there was no escape for the lad, was toying and trifling with him, as a cat toys with a mouse before devouring it.

In the intensity of his fear in this direction, Harry forgot all about the camp in front, and had no time to wonder at the continued silence in that direction, a circumstance which would have struck him as very strange, under the circumstances.

The crackling and treading of the undergrowth continued, and the suspense soon became greater than the actual coming of the danger itself would be.

“As I don’t see any way out of the scrape,” he thought, “I may as well end it one way or the other, and so I will meet it.”

He had a faint hope, too, that by stealing along on the ground, he might secure his rifle in time to make a fight for his life.

Accordingly he started with the same care and caution that had marked his approach to the camp.

A half-dozen feet were passed in this manner, and then he paused, stupefied with wonder, amazement and absolute terror!

For of all the strange sights and experiences that he had encountered in this country, of all that had been his during his past life, he never had seen any thing that could compare with that which now greeted his vision!