stole forward, gun before him, and his eyes shifting from one dark object to another, on the lookout for a possible enemy.
Dave was in the midst of the next patch of timber,—some beautiful walnuts and chestnuts,—when he saw something glimmer through the darkness far to his left. He was immediately interested, wondering what the light could be. He came to a halt and gazed attentively in the direction.
"It must be an Indian camp-fire," he mused. "What a lot of the redskins there must be in this vicinity!"
He was about to move on, giving the fire a wide berth, when something prompted him to turn toward it, to make sure that it was not the encampment of friends. It might possibly be Barringford or some other trapper in the woods, and if so to pass him by would be far from wise, since such a person might be able to afford just the assistance needed.
Careful of every footstep taken, Dave gradually drew close to the camp-fire. There was a small, dry clearing, fringed by a series of low rocks, and behind these rocks the young hunter crouched. The sight that met his gaze held him spell-bound.
The camp-fire in the center of the clearing was divided into two parts, one to the east and the other to the west. That in the east was beset with sharp
