ng the absence of their leader.

As the Indian was not to be seen the three listened with the keenest
attention, hoping to gain something of the purpose of the Indian. But
the silence could not have been more profound had they been the only
living creatures within a thousand miles. They could detect the soft
flow of the Susquehanna, only a few yards from where they were hiding in
the undergrowth. Once, too, the sound of a rifle broke upon their ears,
but it seemed to be a full mile away, in the depths of the forest, and
gave them no alarm, its only effect being to make the solemn stillness
more solemn and impressive, and to inspire a feeling of loneliness that
was almost painful. Once or twice a ripple of the water was heard, such
as might be supposed to come from the movement of an enemy stealing
through the current, but each of the three knew it was not caused by
friend or foe. They had noticed the same thing many a time before, and
knew it was caused by a drooping branch or projecting root, acted upon
by the sluggish current which caused it to dip in and out of the stream.

And so that which might have excited apprehension in another caused no
alarm on the part of those whose experience in the woods had taught them
better. At the end of ten minutes, perhaps, Ned Clinton detected a
slight rustle at his side, and turning his head to learn the cause,
found that Lena-Wingo had returned.

CHAPTER XV.

A DELICATE AND DANGEROUS TASK.

Without using the broken language of the Mohawk scout, his mission may
be explained. While the conference between the Iroquois was under way,
he detected sounds that told him a canoe had arrived among
them--confirmed immediately after by the sound of the quarrel already
referred to. The instant he became aware of this, he resolved to obtain
possession of the boat and appropriate it to his own use. Every reason
urged him to do this. One of the most powerfully exciting causes was the
wish--natural to the white as well as the red man--to outwit his
enemies. To capture their canoe would be a brilliant winding up of the
shrewd escape he had made from the parties on the water and land.
Besides this, it had become plain that the only way to get across the
Susquehanna was by using a craft equal in every respect to those
employed by his enemies.

To venture out again in the scow would be to surrender to the Iroquois,
and, as sharp as was the Mohawk, he could not but wonder that they were