friend
should want to find him and Rosa again. The day was passing and it
seemed that they were trifling away the time which was so valuable to
all the fugitives. There was something, too, in the continued absence of
their guide, Lena-Wingo, that caused them uneasiness. They recalled that
he had promised a speedy return, and it was rarely that the Mohawk made
them a promise which was not fulfilled in spirit and letter.

CHAPTER XXIX.

A STARTLING CHECK.

Ned and Jo had said nothing to each other about the continued absence of
the Mohawk, for whatever they might utter would necessarily be
conjecture, and would only excite the alarm of Rosa without
accomplishing any good. But it was in the thoughts of both, and when Ned
bade the two good-bye for a season, it occupied more of his speculations
than did the movements of the man who had played them false.

"One can never lose faith in Lena-Wingo, and yet the pitcher may go to
the fountain once too often," he mused, as he picked his way with the
greatest care. "And that great scout is likely to fall at any time. A
single rifle ball may do it, and he cannot tell whether there is not
more than one of his own race in hiding, waiting patiently till he shall
come that way and receive his death. He has escaped so often that he
must become careless of his own safety, and will pay the penalty one of
these days."

Ned had fixed the route so clearly in his own mind that he found no
difficulty in retracing the steps taken when he was following the
leadership of Worrell. He was apprehensive that he would meet him on his
return, probably with a number of Indians. He therefore picked his way
with all the care and stealth of which he was master. He imitated the
actions of Lena-Wingo under similar circumstances. Frequently pausing
and listening for sounds of his enemies, he used his eyes as keenly as
he could for the detection of the first sign of approaching danger. This
kind of progress was not of the most rapid order, but it was the wisest
that could have been adopted, and he continued it for half an hour. At
the end of that time, he reached the base of the tree from the branches
of which he fired the shot that brought Worrell from behind the rock.

"Here is where we met him," he said to himself, "and I have a feeling
that he isn't very far away now. What a wise girl Rosa is!" he added,
with a blush, as if fearful she had heard the complimentary words. "She
mistrusted that v