CHAPTER IV

THE DARING ATTEMPT


Willet knew from their paint that the faces looking down were those of
Huron warriors, but he was quite sure they had not seen anything,
and that the men would soon pass on. It was impossible even for the
sharpest eyes to pick out the three behind the evergreen screen.
Nevertheless he put his rifle forward, ready for an instant shot, if
needed, but remained absolutely still, waiting for them to make the
next move.

His sensitive hearing brought down the faint voices again and once
or twice the light crush of footsteps. Evidently, the warriors were
moving slowly along the edge of the cliff, talking as they went,
and the hunter surmised that the three were the subject of their
attention. He imagined their chagrin at the way in which the chase had
vanished, and he laughed softly to think that he and the lads lay so
near their enemies, but invisible and so well hidden.

The voices became fainter and died away, the soft crush of footsteps
came no more, and the world returned to all the seeming of peace,
without any trace of cruelty in it; but Willet was not lured by such
an easy promise into any rash act. He knew the savages would come
again, and that unbroken vigilance was the price of life. Once more he
settled himself into the easiest position and watched. He had all the
patience of the Indians themselves, to whom time mattered little, and
since sitting there was the best thing to be done he was content to
sit there.