"That is gospel truth, Tuscarora, if the Mingoes didn't know that
they are near soldiers; but soldiers commonly think more of their
dinner at a halt than of their wisdom and danger. No, no; let the
boy pile on his logs, and smoke them well too; it will all be laid
to the stupidity of some Scotch or Irish blunderer, who is thinking
more of his oatmeal or his potatoes than of Indian sarcumventions
or Indian rifles."

"And yet I should think, from all we have heard in the towns, that
the soldiers on this frontier are used to the artifices of their
enemies," said Mabel, "and become almost as wily as the red men
themselves."

"Not they. Experience makes them but little wiser; and they wheel,
and platoon, and battalion it about, here in the forest, just as
they did in their parks at home, of which they are all so fond of
talking. One red-skin has more cunning in his natur' than a whole
regiment from the other side of the water; that is, what I call
cunning of the woods. But there is smoke enough, of all conscience,
and we had better drop into another cover. The lad has thrown
the river on his fire, and there is danger that the Mingoes will
believe a whole regiment is out."

While speaking, the Pathfinder permitted his canoe to drift away
from the bush by which it had been retained, and in a couple of
minutes the bend in the river concealed the smoke and the tree.
Fortunately a small indentation in the shore presented itself,
within a few yards of the point they had just passed; and the two
canoes glided into it, under the impulsion of the paddles.