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of an insect。 Absolute silence prevailed。
Joe saw the Indian guard leaning against a tree； asleep。 Silvertip was gone。
The captive raised his head and looked around for the chief。 There were only
four Indians left； three on the ground and one against the tree。
He saw something shining near him。 He looked more closely； and made out the
object to be an eagle plume Silvertip had worn； in his head…dress。 It lay on
the ground near the tree。 Joe made some slight noise which awakened the guard。
The Indian never moved a muscle； but his eyes roved everywhere。 He； too；
noticed the absence of the chief。
At this moment from out of the depths of the woods came a swelling sigh； like
the moan of the night wind。 It rose and died away； leaving the silence
apparently all the deeper。
A shudder ran over Joe's frame。 Fascinated； he watched the guard。 The Indian
uttered a low gasp； his eyes started and glared wildly； he rose very slowly to
his full height and stood waiting； listening。 The dark hand which held the
tomahawk trembled so that little glints of moonlight glanced from the bright
steel。
From far back in the forest…deeps came that same low moaning：
〃Um…m…mm…woo…o…o…o！〃
It rose from a faint murmur and swelled to a deep moan； soft but clear； and
ended in a wail like that of a lost soul。
The break it made in that dead silence was awful。 Joe's blood seemed to have
curdled and frozen； a cold sweat oozed from his skin； and it was as if a
clammy hand clutched at his heart。 He tried to persuade himself that the fear
displayed by the savage was only superstition； and that that moan was but the
sigh of the night wind。
The Indian sentinel stood as if paralyzed an instant after that weird cry； and
then； swift as a flash； and as noiseless； he was gone Into the gloomy forest。
He had fled without awakening his companions。
Once more the moaning cry arose and swelled mournfully on the still night air。
It was close at hand！
〃The Wind of Death；〃 whispered Joe。
He was shaken and unnerved by the events of the past two days； and dazed from
his wound。 His strength deserted him； and he lost consciousness。
Chapter VI。
One evening； several day previous to the capture of the brothers； a solitary
hunter stopped before a deserted log cabin which stood on the bank of a stream
fifty miles or more inland from the Ohio River。 It was rapidly growing dark； a
fine； drizzling rain had set in； and a rising wind gave promise of a stormy
night。
Although the hunter seemed familiar with his surroundings； he moved
cautiously； and hesitated as if debating whether he should seek the protection
of this lonely hut； or remain all night under dripping trees。 Feeling of his
hunting frock； he found that it was damp and slippery。 This fact evidently
decided him in favor of the cabin； for he stooped his tall figure and went in。
It was pitch dark inside； but having been there before； the absence of a light
did not trouble him。 He readily found the ladder leading to the loft； ascended
it； and lay down to sleep。
During the night a noise awakened him。 For a moment he heard nothing except
the fall of the rain。 Then came the hum of voices； followed by the soft tread
of moccasined feet。 He knew there was an Indian town ten miles across the
country； and believed some warriors； belated on a hunting trip； had sought the
cabin for shelter。
The hunter lay perfectly quiet； awaiting developments。 If the Indians had
flint and steel； and struck a light； he was almost certain to be discovered。
He listened to their low conversation； and understood from the language that
they were Delawares。
A moment later he heard the rustling of leaves and twigs； accompanied by the
metallic click of steel against some hard substance。 The noise was repeated；
and then followed by a hissing sound； which he knew to be the burning of a
powder on a piece of dry wood； after which rays of light filtered through
cracks of the unstable floor of the loft。
The man placed his eye to one of these crevices； and counted eleven Indians；
all young braves； with the exception of the chief。 The Indians had been
hunting； they had haunches of deer and buffalo tongues； together with several
packs of hides。 Some of them busied themselves drying their weapons； others
sat down listlessly； plainly showing their weariness； and two worked over the
smouldering fire。 The damp leaves and twigs burned faintly； yet there was
enough to cause the hunter fear that he might be discovered。 He believed he
had not much to worry about from the young braves； but the hawk…eyed chief was
dangerous。
And he was right。 Presently the stalwart chief heard； or saw； a drop of water
fall from the loft。 It came from the hunter's wet coat。 Almost any one save an
Indian scout would have fancied this came from the roof。 As the chief's gaze
roamed everywhere over the interior of the cabin his expression was plainly
distrustful。 His eye searched the wet clay floor； but hardly could have
discovered anything there； because the hunter's moccasined tracks had been
obliterated by the footprints of the Indians。 The chief's suspicions seemed
to be allayed。
But in truth this chief； with the wonderful sagacity natural to Indians； had
observed matters which totally escaped the young braves； and； like a wily old
fox； he waited to see which cub would prove the keenest。 Not one of them；
however； noted anything unusual。 They sat around the fire； ate their meat and
parched corn； and chatted volubly。
The chief arose and； walking to the ladder； ran his hand along one of the
rungs。
〃Ugh！〃 he exclaimed。
Instantly he was surrounded by ten eager； bright…eyed braves。 He extended his
open palm； it was smeared with wet clay like that under his feet。
Simultaneously with their muttered exclamations the braves grasped their
weapons。 They knew there was a foe above them。 It was a paleface； for an
Indian would have revealed himself。
The hunter； seeing he was discovered； acted with the unerring judgment and
lightning…like rapidity of one long accustomed to perilous situations。
Drawing his tomahawk and noiselessly stepping to the hole in the loft； he
leaped into the midst of the astounded Indians。
Rising from the floor like the rebound of a rubber ball； his long arm with the
glittering hatchet made a wide sweep； and the young braves scattered like
frightened sheep。
He made a dash for the door and； incredible as it may seem； his movements were
so quick he would have escaped from their very midst without a scratch but for
one unforeseen circumstance。 The clay floor was wet and slippery； his feet
were hardly in motion before they slipped from under him and he fell headlong。
With loud yells of triumph the band jumped upon him。 There was a convulsive；
heaving motion of the struggling mass； one frightful cry of agony； and then
hoarse commands。 Three of the braves ran to their packs； from which they took
cords of buckskin。 So exceedingly powerful was the hunter that six Indians
were required to hold him while the others tied his hands and feet。 Then； with
grunts and chuckles of satisfaction； they threw him into a corner of the
cabin。
Two of the braves had been hurt in the brief struggle； one having a badly
wrenched shoulder and the other a broken arm。 So much for the hunter's power
in that single moment of action。
The loft was searched； and found to be empty。 Then the excitement died away；
and the braves settled themselves down for the night。 The injured ones bore
their hurts with characteristic stoicism； if they did not sleep； both remained
quiet and not a sigh escaped them。
The wind changed during the night； the storm abated； and when daylight came
the sky was cloudless。 The first rays of the sun shone in the open door；
lighting up the interior of the cabin。
A sleepy Indian who had acted as guard stretched his limbs and yawned。 He
looked for the prisoner； and saw him sitting up in the corner。 One arm was
free； and the other nearly so。 He had almost untied the thongs which bound
him； a few moments more and he would have been free。
〃Ugh！〃 exclaimed the young brave； awakening his chief and pointing to the
hunter。
The chief glanced at his prisoner； then looked more closely； and with one
spring was on his feet； a drawn tomahawk n his hand。 A short； shrill yell
issued from his lips。 Roused by that clarion call； the young braves jumped up；
trembling in eager excitement。 The chief's summons had been the sharp war…cry
of the Delawares。
He manifested as intense emotion as could possibly have been betrayed by a
matured； experienced chieftain； and pointing to the hunter； he spoke a single
word。
At noonday the Indians entered the fields of corn which marked the outskirts
of the Delaware encampment。
〃Kol…lookol…lookol…loo。〃
The long signal； heralding the return of the party