The action of the Indians gave Wharton a suspicion of the truth. They had crossed the torrent with the intention of hiding somewhere along the path leading to the block-house, so as to cut off the flight of one or both of the boys in that direction. This, seemingly, was an easy thing to do, provided the fugitives were unsuspicious of what was going on.

Young Edwards saw no way of breaking through the maze of perplexity that had closed around him. He had done his utmost without learning where his friend was. More than that, although he was hopeful, he could feel no certainty that he was really alive.

The occasion justified another appeal to the peculiar dove signal, and he now made it.

CHAPTER XV.

A HAIL AND AN ANSWER.

Meanwhile Larry Murphy was not idle. He had never received a more terrifying shock than that caused by the discovery that the signal which he was confident was made by Wharton Edwards came from the lips of Blazing Arrow.

On the first thought there was but one explanation of this: his friend had called to him and had been overheard by the Shawanoe, who instantly caught it up, well knowing its significance, and had deceived Wharton by his clever imitation.

This supposition, as the reader knows, was correct; but when Larry went further, and decided that his comrade had fallen a victim to the treacherous red man, the reader also knows he made a mistake.

Firm in the terrible belief for the time, he was so overcome that he sat down on a bowlder, too faint and weak to stand, until several minutes had passed.

"This is a bad go, is this same," he mused with a deep sigh. "If the Indians had to take one, why didn't they take mesilf? They're likely to do the same--it's little I care if they do."

So extreme was his dejection, that had he known that a half dozen Shawanoes were stealing upon him at that moment he would not have stirred from his position or attempted to defend himself.

This intense depression, however, could not last. All strong, rugged natures are quick to rebound from such pressure and soon reassert themselves. By and by he felt a grain of hope. The rifle lying across his knees was clasped more firmly; he raised his head and listened; had he discovered the approach of a foe he would now have defended himself.

"I wish that Blazing Arrow would walk out in front of me and dare me to tackle him," he muttered, gnashing his teeth. "I wonder where he is?"

He rose to his feet and peeped around in the gloom. A while before he had shunned the chief, and counted himself fortunate because he was able to escape a meeting. Now he would have felt doubly fortunate could he have gained a chance to attack him.

When the Shawanoe was wanted he was somewhere else.

"I wonder," continued Larry, as hope grew stronger within him, "whether Whart wasn't sharp enough to play the trick on Blazing Arrow that he did on mesilf? He must have heard the call, to larn how to make the same; but Whart may have give him the slip."

It was a faint hope, but it did the lad good. He had hunted so much in the company of his friend that they had not only acquired a good deal of woodcraft, but were familiar with each other's ways.

Larry recalled that he had heard no gun fired since the discharge of his weapon. It was fair to believe, therefore, that whatever the fate of young Edwards might be, he had not been shot. There were other methods of putting him out of the way, but the belief to which his friend was rapidly bringing himself was that the one for whom he was concerned was a prisoner of the Shawanoes.

The way to find out was to discover the camp of the red men, which must be pitched somewhere in the neighborhood. It will thus be seen that the lads were reasoning along the same lines, to the same conclusion.

Larry had risen from the bowlder on which he had seated himself, and decided to move farther back in the woods in search of the camp-fire that he knew was burning there. In making the search he would have to go it blind, since there was no means of finding guidance.

But, as in more than one previous instance, he fortunately discovered that others were near him before he was observed. He stood motionless, peering and listening under the trees, where the gloom was so intense that he might have brushed by a man without either seeing the other.

They were there, however, and a moment later were seen more plainly in the moonlight, across which they passed to reach the torrent whither they were making their way.

Larry was surprised when he saw two Indians walking with their light, noiseless tread over the rocks. He had supposed there was but a solitary warrior.

"I'm hoping that one of them is Blazing Arrow," was his thought.

He was resentful to that degree toward this particular Shawanoe that, despite the danger from his companion, he would have shot him down; and there can be little question that in doing so he would have rendered a service to humanity.

But he could not identify either of the red men in the moonlight, with their faces turned away from him. He saw them walk to the edge of the torrent, where the tree lay, and then one followed the other across.

"I'd like to know the meaning of that; they must be hunting for Whart or mesilf. I'm pretty sure they won't find mesilf there, and I don't know about Whart. If they haven't got him already, it may take more than them to find him."

As yet he could not know whether the war party were on this or the other side of the stream. It looked as if the couple were returning to camp.

If this was so, the youth must follow them to obtain the information he wanted.

He had reached this conclusion and was about to venture out in the moonlight, when he was thrilled by the sound of the signal which he feared he was never to hear again.

He paused and listened, afraid to reply and yet on the point of doing so.

At the proper interval the call was repeated, and then, so certain that everything was right was he that, instead of making the proper answer, he called in a guarded undertone:

"Is that yersilf, Whart?"

"It is," was the reply of the delighted friend, and the next minute they were together.

It was a joyous reunion, even though the shadow of great danger rested upon the two youths. Wharton Edwards and Larry Murphy had been separated, seemingly, with slight prospect of ever seeing each other again; they had gone through many perils during the preceding few hours, and at the moment when despair had almost taken possession of both, they clasped hands and stood side by side.

"Are ye sure it's yersilf, Whart?" asked the elder, squeezing the fingers of his friend, who fully reciprocated the warmth of feeling.

"I'm as sure, Larry, as you are that it's you."

"Then we'll consider it settled; and how are ye?" he asked, shaking again the hand which he had not yet released.

"I was never better, and thankful and happy to find you alive when I feared it was all over with you."

"The same to yersilf; and have ye suffered no harrum?"

"None at all, though matters kept moving; I dodged up the trail, and the only Shawanoe who followed me was Blazing Arrow."

"And did he catch ye?"

"Not that I am aware of. You remember the natural clearing, a little way out toward the block-house?"

"That I do."

"Well, when I struck that, Blazing Arrow was not far behind me. He had my gun and I hadn't any, so that all I could do was to run, and there he and I had the race that we missed at the settlement."

"Tell me about it," eagerly asked Larry.

"There isn't much to tell, except that I did my best, and I suppose he did the same, Larry; I beat him badly; I must have gained fifty yards on him."

"And is that the honest truth now, Whart?"

"It is."