he said. "Each man about thirty yards from the next. Then we can beat up the timber thoroughly. Don't fire until you're sure of what you are doing, for to kill a friendly Indian just now would be the worst thing we could do. General Johnson would never forgive you for it. He had hard enough work to make 'em come over to us."
It fell to Henry's lot to skirt the shore of the lake, with Barringford next to him. The way was easy where the trail ran close to the water, but at other points was exceedingly difficult, for big stones and thick brushwood frequently blocked his progress.
"Phew! but this is no child's play!" he muttered to himself, as he came out on a point of the shore where the sun blazed down fiercely. "A fellow couldn't feel any hotter plowing corn or turning hay. I'd rather go swimming than hunt up Indians, I must confess."
His soliloquy was broken by the flitting of something from one tree to another, some distance ahead. The movement was so rapid, and the distance so great, that he could not settle in his mind what the object had been.
"Was that an Indian, or some big wild bird?" he asked himself. Drawing back into the shelter of some bushes he held his gun ready for use, and gazed ahead with much interest.
