[1] Meaning he became sick from some cause or other.

CHAPTER VII.

THE PLAN FOR THE RESCUE.

  Oft did he stoop a listening ear,
    Sweep round an anxious eye,
  No bark or ax-blow could he hear,
    No human trace descry. 
  His sinuous path, by blazes, wound
  Among trunks grouped in myriads round;
    Through naked boughs, between
  Whose tangled architecture fraught
  With many a shape grotesquely wrought,
    The hemlock’s spire was seen.—­A.  B. STREET.

By this time, daylight was at hand.  A thin mist, rising from the river, was passing off through the woods; for the half-hour preceding the appearance of the sun, the darkness was more palpable than it had been at any time through the night.  The air, too, had a disagreeable chilliness in it, which, however little it affected the Huron, made the soldier, for the time being, exceedingly uncomfortable and impatient for the full light of day.

The Shawnee village was about a mile distant, on the same bank of the stream with that upon which our friends found themselves.  As there was not the least probability of Hans Vanderbum being astir for several hours yet, they proceeded at a moderate walk through the wood.  One of the peculiar effects of this chilly morning air was to keep Lieutenant Canfield constantly gaping; his movements were so languid and his mind listless even to antipathy for conversation.  He maintained his place in silence beside Oonomoo.  The Indian was as watchful and keen as ever.

As the young Lieutenant was yawning, and gazing around listlessly, he caught a glimpse of some body, as it threw itself prostrate behind a clump of bushes.  He looked at the Huron and was startled to observe upon his countenance no indication of having noticed this singular occurrence.

“Oonomoo,” he whispered, placing his hand upon his arm, “there’s a person behind the bush, and we are in danger.  I saw him this very minute.”

“Me see’d ’em,” said the Indian, walking straight toward the spot where he was concealed.

This was too much for the young man.  When he reflected that, in all probability a rifle-barrel was leveled through those bushes, ready to do its deadly work, he was not ashamed to halt and allow the Huron to proceed alone.  But, no fear seemed to enter the head of the Indian.  He strode straight forward, as if he had discovered something which he was about to pick, and, reaching the bushes, he parted and stepped among them.  The astonished soldier saw him stoop and lift some dark object, and then throw it down upon the ground again.

Lieutenant Canfield now came forward.  Great was his amazement to recognize, in this dark object, the negro, Cato!  He lay upon his face, as lax and motionless as a piece of inanimate matter.

“What is the matter with him?” asked the soldier.  “Is he dead?”