It did not escape the notice of Henry Ware. Now he saw a sharp, red
nose appear, and then the shaggy head behind it.
The nose remained--projected and lifted in the air, a-sniff to catch the
fleeting scent of an enemy. Fancy could readily paint the ugly head of the
lank body behind it. But Henry Ware was not deceived for an instant. The
muzzle of the rifle that had been thrust forward, was raised now, and
taking swift aim, he fired.
A wild and terrible cry swelled through the forest. An Indian warrior
sprang to his feet, casting off his guise of a wolfskin, stood perfectly
still for a moment, and then fell headlong among the wet bushes. The cry
came back in many real echoes, the shouts of the warriors who knew now
that there was to be no surprise for them. Their battle cry swelled in
volume, fierce with anger, but Henry, Shif'less Sol, and Tom Ross were
already running back upon the camp, sounding the alarm, and the men,
roused from sleep, were springing to arms.
CHAPTER XIX
THE BATTLE OF THE BANK
"What is it? what is it?" cried Adam Colfax, as the three sentinels, who
were worth all the others combined, dashed into the camp.
"An Indian army!" replied Henry Ware. "We do not yet know how strong, but
we have seen their scouts! hark to them!"
The fierce war whoop rose and swelled through all the forest, died away,
then swelled and died again.
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