anced
bride and the perilous nature of the enterprise in hand, he kept
puzzling his inquiring brain with such difficulties as the absolute
dependence of man on the will and leading of God, coupled with the fact
of his being required to go into vigorous, decisive, and apparently
independent action, trusting entirely to his own resources.
"Mystery," thought the red man, as he and his friend walked swiftly
along, taking advantage of the shelter afforded by every glade, thicket,
or eminence; "all is mystery!"
But Whitewing was wrong, as many men in all ages have been on first
bending their minds to the consideration of spiritual things. All is
_not_ mystery. In the dealings of God with man, much, very much, is
mysterious, and by us in this life apparently insoluble; but many
things--especially those things that are of vital importance to the
soul--are as clear as the sun at noonday. However, our red man was at
this time only beginning to run the spiritual race, and, like many
others, he was puzzled.
But no sign did he show of what was going on within, as he glided along,
bending his keen eyes intently on the Blackfoot trail.
At last they came to the immediate neighbourhood of the spot where it
was rightly conjectured the enemy lay concealed. Here, as Tim had
foretold, they went upon their knees, and advanced with the utmost
caution. Coming to a grassy eminence they lay flat down and worked
their way slowly and painfully to the top.
Well was it for them that a few clouds shrouded the moon at that time,
for one of the Blackfoot sentinels had been stationed on that grassy
eminence, and if Whitewing and the trapper had been less expert in the
arts of savage war, they must certainly have been discovered. As it
was, they were able to draw off in time and reach another part of the
mound where a thick bush effectually concealed them from view.
From this point, when the clouds cleared away, the camp could be clearly
seen in the vale below. Even the forms of the women and children were
distinguishable, but not their faces.
"It won't be easy to get at them by surprise," whispered the trapper.
"Their position is strong, and they keep a bright lookout; besides, the
moon won't be down for some hours yet--not much before daybreak."
"Whitewing will take the prey from under their very noses," returned the
Indian.
"That won't be easy, but I've no doubt you'll try, an' sure, Little
Tim's the man to back ye, anyhow."
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