ward on the steamer was a group of heavily armed men who seemed to have no work to do. Papa Clair glared at them and played with a knife.
"There is Dillings," whispered Lander. "See anything of Prevost on board?"
Papa shook his head, murmuring:
"Sent two of his boatmen with the keelboat. He and the men went with the mules by land. Hah, behold! It is Tilton. Bah! The cowards! He did not dare come to your room that night. They won't risk their hides where they think we have a chance to fight back."
Now the mate called a halt and gave rapid orders. Deserting the wood-yard the men swarmed along the shore and began salvaging huge drift logs.
"Wood's just been cut. It's too green," whispered Papa Clair. "The logs burn best. They've been laying up here for hours. If they had had a fire going the smoke would have warned us. As it is we are lucky not to fall into their hands. Wood-yards are easy to get at here; but up-country the Indians hide near them and rush the men sent ashore. More than one scalp has been taken that way."
