“Come, now, walks right behind me, and if you sees—­dunder and blixen! dere comes an Injin!”

The girl had caught a glimpse of two shadowy figures, and without thought, she did the wisest possible thing for her to do under the circumstances.  Springing back within the lodge, she reseated herself beyond the form of her prostrate sentinel, and waited for them to pass.

“How do you do, brother?” asked one of them, in the Shawnee tongue, as they halted.  “How gets along our prisoner?”

“Pretty good; she is in de lodge.”

“She is safe in the hands of Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock, but I will look in.”  The savage stepped to the entrance and merely glanced inside.  The darkness was so great that he saw nothing but the figure of the squaw before him, and he and his companion passed on.  The captive waited until she was sure they were beyond sight and hearing, and then she stepped forth again.

“Let us hurry,” said she, eagerly.  “There may be others near.”

“Yaw, but don’t push me over on mine nose.”

“Oh! if she awakes, or we are seen!”

“She won’t do dat.  She shleeps till morning, and bimeby I shleeps too, and won’t wake up afore she does.”

“Be careful, be careful, my good friend, and do not linger so,” said the girl, nearly beside herself with excitement, “and let us stop talking.”

“Yaw, I bees careful!  I ain’t talking.  It bees you all de time dat is making de noise.  I knows better dan for to make noise, when dey might hear.  Doesn’t you fink I does?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

“I’m glad dat you t’inks so.  I knowed a gal once; she was a good ’eal like you; Annie Stanton was her name; she had a feller dat was a good ’eal like de Lieutenant, and dey didn’t t’ink I knowed much, but dey found dey was mistaken.  Don’t you b’lieve dey did?”

“Yes, yes—­but you are talking all the while.”

“Dat ish so—­I doesn’t talk no more.”

Finally, the impression reached the brain of Hans Vanderbum that he was making rather more noise than was prudent, and he resolutely sealed his lips—­so resolutely that, being compelled to breathe through his nostrils, Miss Prescott feared that the noise thus made was more dangerous than had been his indulgence in conversation.  She endeavored to warn him, but he firmly refused to hear, waddling ahead, his huge form stumbling and lumbering forward like a young elephant just learning to walk.  The moon being directly before them, his massive shoulders were clearly outlined against the sky, when the woods were open enough to permit an unobstructed entrance to its light.  A dozen yards from the wigwam, and the two were clear of the Shawnee village, their only danger being from any wandering Indian whom they might chance to meet.  They had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile, when the captive’s heart nearly stopped beating as she saw the hand of a savage outlined against the sky.  As she observed that he was steadily approaching, she halted and was debating whether or not to dart off in the woods, and depend upon herself for safety, when Hans spoke: