Having satisfied themselves that they could not have fallen upon a safer place, the boys came back to their camp, as it may be called, and sat down in front of the blaze. Their knapsacks were unstrapped from their backs and the blankets spread upon the leaves. There was some moisture in the thick cloth, but not enough to them from using them as couches. Their own clothing had become dry, and, under the warm glow of the fire, the blankets would soon be the same.  
In spite of the reconnoissance just made, both felt some uneasiness over their own situation. They were confident that no one further away than two or three rods would observe the fire, but the possibility remained that some enemy might pass within that space, brief as it was. Their experience since leaving Greville taught them that a large number of Winnebagos were in the , and, as Terry remarked, the nearer they approached camp, the more did they seem to become.
 
It was this feeling which caused them to let the fire sink to half its first size and led them to keep far back within the circle of light thrown into the surrounding gloom. They talked in low voices, often listening and looking around, and were in any thing but a comfortable frame of mind. The feeling with them was that if any enemy should happen to be in the vicinity, every possible advantage would be on his side.
 
"I feel, Terry, as though all this is wasted time. I know it is more than likely that the Winnebagos are doing the same as we, that is, nothing at all; but that makes me more anxious to push on."
 
"I've an idaa," remarked the Irish lad, who was stretched out in a lazy , with his cap in hand, while, as was his custom, he scratched his with the other; "I'm thinkin' why couldn't we aich take a torch in hand and walk along over the path with the same?"
 
Fred was half inclined to try the experiment, but fear prevented. They had learned that the Winnebagos were not only in the rear but in front. No more target can be given than that of a person carrying a lighted torch: it was the same as when a man with a candle in his hand starts out to explore his house for burglars. So that plan was not adopted.
 
Terry was about to speak to his companion, when the latter saw him start, and, rising quickly to the sitting position, stare at a point beyond Fred. He had seen something that terrified him.
 
With his big round eyes still on the gloom behind young Linden, Terry stealthily reached for his gun, which lay on the leaves close by, and softly drew back the flint. Fred, as may be supposed, was alarmed, and starting half to his feet, glanced around.
 
He saw nothing.
 
"What's the matter?" he asked in an undertone, as he also laid his hand upon his weapon.
 
"Whin I was lookin' at ye," said Terry in a husky whisper, "I obsarved one of the spalpeens standin' right behind ye and close enough to touch ye with his hand. Before I could spake, he slipped out of sight like a shadder."
 
Fred did not ask his companion whether he was sure of what he said, for he knew he was not mistaken.
 
"That shows we shouldn't have started the fire; it has caught the eye of some of the Indians, who will be here in a few minutes; let's slip back in the darkness and get as far off as we can; it don't make much difference what course we take, but it will never do to stay here."
 
Fred Linden had no more than completed his guarded remark, when he too caught sight of a on the very edge of the circle of light and looking straight at him. The view of the dusky intruder was faint but unmistakable.
 
The outlines and figure received enough of the firelight to cause him to look like a dim painting against a dark background. He was holding a rifle in one hand and appeared to be368 the lads, as if seeking to learn their identity before he advanced or performed some action.
 
"Sh! don't stir," whispered Fred, softly raising the hammer of his gun, "I see him,—I'll drop him!"
 
With the utmost caution he brought the gun around in front until it was almost to his breast. Then as quickly as he could he raised it to his shoulder and aimed at the daring redskin.
 
But the latter was invisible, he had vanished like the picture on the slide of a magic lantern.
 
As you may suppose, the boys began to feel queer. There was something so about this business that, as Terry expressed it, he was "crawly all over." What they might have done can only be guessed, for before they could move away from the fire, Deerfoot the Shawanoe, who had been having a little amusement at their expense, advanced from the gloom and addressed them.
 
"The heart of Deerfoot is glad when he sees his brothers do not sleep; he has watched them, but their eyes are open."
 
"Wal, be the powers!" muttered Terry Clark, hastily rising to his feet, as did Fred; "the spalpeen that plays that trick on me has got to fight it out."
 
And he began taking off his coat and spitting on his hands, to show that the matter could only be settled by a at fisticuffs. Deerfoot had extended his hand to Fred and he smiled at the Irish lad, who put up his fists and began dancing about him in the most fashion.
 
"Give him a trial," whispered Fred, with a laugh.
 
"Deerfoot loves his brothers; he can not hurt them."
 
"If ye can git the bist of mesilf," said Terry, who was still sawing the air and about as though the ground had become hot; "I'll think more of ye than iver before, bein' that I think more of ye now than I ever can, and I defy ye to sit your gun aside and git the bist of me in any way."
............