"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, after having
come to that point where we might reasonably expect the Indian sentinels
would be posted.

In the darkness, moving amidst the dense foliage, where it required the
utmost care to avoid betraying one's whereabouts, advancing blindly into
you knew not what peril, was well calculated to make even the most
courageous feel a bit timid.

At any moment we might literally stumble over a party of warriors in such
numbers that there could be no possibility of making our escape, and in
case we should come face to face with no more than four or five of the
enemy, it would be well-nigh useless to show fight, because of the
hundreds everywhere around who could be summoned to the assistance of
their comrades.