Before we had advanced an hundred paces, I became convinced that it was
impossible we should be able to reconnoitre the camp and return to the
point from where we had set out without being killed, or, what was worse,
taken prisoner, and yet, had I known for a certainty that such fate
awaited us, I would not have let Sergeant Corney know of my unwillingness
to follow him.

Sorely did I blame Jacob for having forced us into such a position of
danger, when there was little hope any good could be effected by our
coming, and more than once I promised myself that, if by any fortunate
chance I succeeded in arriving at Cherry Valley again, no one could tempt
me to leave it.

It was useless, however, to mourn over what could not be cured. We had
come there voluntarily, and, unless both of us were willing to write
ourselves down as cowards, must perform the task.

It was well-nigh midnight before we heard anything of the enemy, and then
a faint hum of voices in the distance told that Sergeant Corney had led
the way truly and wonderfully well. Never again would I say that he was
not thoroughly versed in woodcraft.

The old soldier gripped my arm to make certain I understood that we had
come near to the enemy, and then inch by inch we moved forward, halting a
few moments every time we incautiously caused a rustling among the
foliage.

[Illustration: "Three or four hundred Indians were dancing wildly around a
huge fire"]