The Scouts of the Valley by Joseph A. Altsheler (best ebook reader .TXT) 📕

happened to him. Henry had vague theories, but nothing definite, and he kept them to himself. Yet they must make a change in their plans. To go on and leave Long Jim to whatever fate might be his was unthinkable. No task could interfere with the duty of the five to one another.

“We are in one of the most dangerous of all the Indian countries,” said Henry. “We are on the fringe of the region over which the Six Nations roam, and we know that Timmendiquas and a band of the Wyandots are here also. Perhaps Miamis and Shawnees have come, too.”

“We've got to find Long Jim,” said Silent Tom briefly.

They went about their task in five minutes. Breakfast consisted of cold venison and a drink from a brook. Then they began to search the forest. They felt sure that such woodsmen as they, with the daylight to help them, would find some trace of Long Jim, but they saw none at all, although they constantly widened their circle, and again tried all their signals. Half the forenoon passed in the vain search, and then they held a council.

“I think we'd better scatter,” said Shif'less Sol, “an' meet here again when the sun marks noon.”

It was agreed, and they took careful note of the place, a little hill crowned with a thick cluster of black oaks, a landmark easy to remember. Henry turned toward the south, and the forest was so dense that in two minutes all his comrades were lost to sight. He went several miles, and his search was most rigid. He was amazed to find that the sense of mystery and danger that he attributed to the darkness of the night did not disappear wholly in the bright daylight. His spirit, usually so optimistic, was oppressed by it, and he had no belief that they would find Long Jim.

At the set time he returned to the little hill crowned with the black oaks, and as he approached it from one side he saw Shif'less Sol coming from another. The shiftless one walked despondently. His gait was loose and shambling-a rare thing with him, and Henry knew that he, too, had failed. He realized now that he had not expected anything else. Shif'less Sol shook his head, sat down on a root and said nothing. Henry sat down, also, and the two exchanged a look of discouragement.

“The others will be here directly,” said Henry, “and perhaps Long Jim will be with one of them.”

But in his heart he knew that it would not be so, and the shiftless one knew that he had no confidence in his own words.

“If not,” said Henry, resolved to see the better side, “we'll stay anyhow until we find him. We can't spare good old Long Jim.”

Shif'less Sol did not reply, nor did Henry speak again, until lie saw the bushes moving slightly three or four hundred yards away.

“There comes Tom,” he said, after a single comprehensive glance, “and he's alone.”

Tom Ross was also a dejected figure. He looked at the two on the hill, and, seeing that the man for whom they were searching was not with them, became more dejected than before.

“Paul's our last chance,” he said, as he joined them. “He's gen'rally a lucky boy, an' mebbe it will be so with him to-day.”

“I hope so,” said Henry fervently. “He ought to be along in a few minutes.”

They waited patiently, although they really had no belief that Paul would bring in the missing man, but Paul was late. The noon hour was well past. Henry took a glance at the sun. Noon was gone at least a half hour, and he stirred uneasily.

“Paul couldn't get lost in broad daylight,” he said.

“No,” said Shif'less Sol, “he couldn't get lost!”

Henry noticed his emphasis on the word “lost,” and a sudden fear sprang up in his heart. Some power had taken away Long Jim; could the same power have seized Paul? It was a premonition, and he paled under his brown, turning away lest the others see his face. All three now examined the whole circle of the horizon for a sight of moving bushes that would tell of the boy's coming.

The forest told nothing. The sun blazed brightly over everything, and Paul, like Long Jim, did not come. He was an hour past due, and the three, oppressed already by Long jim's disappearance, were convinced that he would not return. But they gave him a half hour longer. Then Henry said:

“We must hunt for him, but we must not separate. Whatever happens we three must stay together.”

“I'm not hankerin' to roam 'roun jest now all by myself,” said the shiftless one, with an uneasy laugh.

The three hunted all that afternoon for Paul. Once they saw trace of footsteps, apparently his, in some soft earth, but they were quickly, lost on hard ground, and after that there was nothing. They stopped shortly before sunset at the edge of a narrow but deep creek.

“What do you think of it, Henry?” asked Shif'less Sol.

“I don't know what to think,” replied the youth, “but it seems to me that whatever took away Jim has taken away Paul, also.”

“Looks like it,” said Sol, “an' I guess it follers that we're in the same kind o' danger.”

“We three of us could put up a good fight,” said Henry, “and I propose that we don't go back to that camp, but spend the night here.”

“Yes, an' watch good,” said Tom Ross.

Their new camp was made quickly in silence, merely the grass under the low boughs of a tree. Their supper was a little venison, and then they watched the coming of the darkness. It was a heavy hour for the three. Long Jim was gone, and then Paul-Paul, the youngest, and, in a way, the pet of the little band.

“Ef we could only know how it happened,” whispered Shif'less Sol, “then we might rise up an' fight the danger an' git Paul an' Jim back. But you can't shoot at somethin' you don't see or hear. In all them fights o' ours, on the Ohio an' Mississippi we knowed what wuz ag'inst us, but here we don't know nothin'.”

“It is true, Sol,” sighed Henry. “We were making such big plans, too, and before we can even start our force is cut nearly in half. To-morrow we'll begin the hunt again. We'll never desert Paul and Jim, so long as we don't know they're dead.”

“It's my watch,” said Tom. “You two sleep. We've got to keep our strength.”

Henry and the shiftless one acquiesced, and seeking the softest spots under the tree sat down. Tom Ross took his place about ten feet in front of them, sitting on the ground, with his hands clasped around his knees, and his rifle resting on his arm. Henry watched him idly for a little while, thinking all the time of his lost comrades. The night promised to be dark, a good thing for them, as the need of hiding was too evident.