"
The hurried consultation over, Silvertip tied Joe's horse and dog to
the trees, and once more led the way; this time he avoided the open
forest and kept on low ground. For a long time he traveled in the
bed of the brook, wading when the water was shallow, and always
stepping where there was the least possibility of leaving a
footprint. Not a word was spoken. If either of the brothers made the
lightest splash in the water, or tumbled a stone into the brook, the
Indian behind rapped him on the head with a tomahawk handle.
At certain places, indicated by the care which Silvertip exercised
in walking, the Indian in front of the captives turned and pointed
where they were to step. They were hiding the trail. Silvertip
hurried them over the stony places; went more slowly through the
water, and picked his way carefully over the soft ground it became
necessary to cross. At times he stopped, remaining motionless many
seconds.
This vigilance continued all the afternoon. The sun sank; twilight
spread its gray mantle, and soon black night enveloped the forest.
The Indians halted, but made no fire; they sat close together on a
stony ridge, silent and watchful.
Joe pondered deeply over this behavior. Did the Shawnees fear
pursuit? What had that Indian chief told Silvertip? To Joe it seemed
that they acted as if believing foes were on all sides.
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