d betray their presence. They took turns in watching the river
and in moving about, so in this manner they were able to keep fairly
warm.
During the morning Dane made a trip to a hill some distance inland,
where from the upper branches of a large tree he obtained an excellent
view of the upper stretch of the Wedneebak. He wished to learn if any
of the rebels had already arrived for the council. From this elevated
position his eyes scanned the shore, and soon detected several wreaths
of smoke curling up into the air. How many men were there he could not
tell, as the crowding trees hid them from view. He wondered if the
pow-wow had already begun, or were the men waiting for others to
arrive? He longed to go down to the shore, creep up close, and spy
upon the rebels. This, however, he knew would be foolish, as it would
be impossible in broad daylight to approach near enough to learn
anything of importance. No, he must wait until night.
Pete was much pleased when Dane returned and told of the discovery he
had made.
"Good, good," he said. "Plenty canoe come bimeby."
"But perhaps they are all there now," Dane suggested.
"No, more come bimeby. See 'm soon."
And in this the Indian was right, for as the day wore away, and
darkness once more began to steal over the land, the canoes began to
arrive. There were a dozen in all, and each contained a number of men,
some of whom were Indians. They all came down river, entered the
narrow channel, and sped up the Wedneebak.
As the last canoe disappeared around a bend, Dane and Pete slipped away
from their place of watching. They moved rapidly through the forest,
and hardly a sound did they make as they advanced. Their ears and eyes
were keenly alert, for they were well aware that the critical time had
now arrived, and that much depended upon their caution.
The darkness had now deepened, and no trail guided their steps. But to
them this mattered little. The forest was their home, and their course
was as unerring as birds in their flight or beasts in search of prey.
A life-long training to one, and years to the other had developed the
sense of instinct which always served when sight and hearing were of
little or no avail.
And this stood them in good stead now, for when others would have
detected nothing, they suddenly stopped dead in their tracks, dropped
upon their hands and knees, and crept cautiously forward. Never did
panthers move more warily than
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