Robert
concentrated his gaze upon it, thankful that he had not made the black
bear the original cause of things, and presently he saw the feathered
head of an Indian appear among the leaves. It was only a glimpse, he did
not see the body or even the face of the warrior, but it was enough.
Where one warrior was another was likely to be in those northern
marches, the most dangerous kind of neutral ground.
He began to slide away, keeping the big tree trunk between him and the
thicket, using all the arts of the forest trailer that he had learned by
natural aptitude and long practice. He went back slowly, but the grass
stems moved only a little as he went, and he was confident that he not
only had not been seen, but would not be seen. Yet he scarcely dared to
breathe--until he reached the bushes inclosing the opening in which his
comrades lay.
He paused a few moments before waking the others and filled his lungs
with air. He was surprised to find that the hands holding his rifle were
damp with perspiration, and he realized then how great the brief strain
had been.
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