fatigue than anyone, excepting the Delaware child. The latter and
Alice walked most of the time side by side, and generally with
clasped hands. There was no use of their trying to keep their
tongues still, but they were wise enough to speak in whispers and
such soft undertones that no one else could tell what they said,
and therefore nothing was to be feared on that account from any
enemies in the neighborhood.

"Why not he make sign?" was the startling question of Linna, pointing
at Ben, before the party had gone far after their brief rest.

"What do you mean?" asked the puzzled Mrs. Ripley; "he isn't to
make any sign to us till he sees or hears something wrong."

"People off dere!" replied Linna, pointing ahead and to the right
of their course. "Me hear dem speak."

It was true. The keen ears of the child had discovered a peril that
no one else suspected. She alone had caught the sound of voices
that escaped all other ears.

CHAPTER SEVEN: JABEZ ZITNER

At this moment Ben Ripley was about a hundred feet in advance of
the party and ascending a ridge in the woods, which were so open
that he was in plain sight of the others.

Mrs. Ripley, on hearing the alarming words of the little Delaware
girl, came to a stop. It seemed strange that Linna should have
caught the sounds noticed by no one else, and that, too, while she