"Men in the woods," he whispered, "creeping up from the South.
They saw no fire and prowled no nearer than panthers prowl when
they know a camp is awake."
"Senecas," I said briefly. "We make a night march of it. Remain
on guard here. The Grey-Feather will bring your pack to you when we
pick you up."
As I ascended the rocky pulpit, both the Grey-Feather and the
Stockbridge were standing erect and wide awake, packs strapped and
slung, rifles in hand.
"Senecas," I said. "Too many for us."
"Are we not to strike?" asked the Oneida wistfully, as the
Mohican came swiftly up the rock followed by the Wyandotte, who
seemed inclined to lag.
"Why did you quit your post?" I asked him bluntly.
"There was a better post and more to see on the rock," he said
simply.
"You made a mistake. You
