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Ned Preston was roused from these gloomy reflections by the discovery that something was going on in front of him, though for some time he could not divine its character.
The uncertain light of the moon annoyed him, and prevented his learning what would have been quickly detected by Jo Stinger.
When the moon shone with unobstructed light, Ned could follow the outlines of the Wyandot warrior stretched out in death on the clearing in front: when the clouds drifted over its face, everything was swallowed in darkness.
In the mood of young Preston, a person sometimes shows a singular disposition to observe trifling details and incidents. On almost any other occasion he would not have noticed that the body of the Wyandot lay in such a position that the head was within an arm's length of a stump, while the feet was about the same distance from another.
At the moment of deepest mental depression, the boy noted this, and he muttered to himself, during the succeeding minutes, until the moon came out again from behind the clouds. Just then he was looking toward the prostrate figure, and he observed that it had shifted its position.
The head was within a few inches of a stump, while the feet were correspondingly removed from the other. The difference was so marked that there was no room for self-deception in the matter.
"It must be he is alive!" was the thought of Ned, "and has been feigning death all these hours."
He was on the point of calling to his uncle, when he reflected that no mercy was likely to be shown the warrior, in case he was only wounded. Ned felt a sympathy for the poor wretch, and, though he had been his most merciless enemy, the boy resolved that he would do nothing to obstruct his final escape.
He now centered his gaze on the figure and watched it with deep interest. So long as the flood of moonlight rested on it, it remained as motionless as the stumps near it; but at the end of ten minutes a thick cloud sailed slowly by the orb, obscuring its light only a few minutes.
As soon as all was clear, Ned exclaimed
"He's moved again! "
"That's so, but he had help."
It was Jo Stinger who stood at the elbow of Ned, looking through the adjoining loophole. The boy turned to the scout, and said in an entreating voice
"Don't shoot him, Jo; give the poor fellow a chance!"
Jo laughed
"I don't waste ammunition on dead men: that varmint has been as dead as Julius Cæsar ever since he was shot."
"But how does he manage to move himself then?"
"Bless your soul, he doesn't do it: there's a Wyandot behind that stump at his head, and he's taking a hitch at him whenever the moon gives him a show."
Ned Preston was astonished, for the truth had never occurred to him. Jo added
"I've catched a glimpse of him once or twice, as he darted from one stump to another. He came from the river bank, and I could have picked him off, but I knowed what he's arter, and it's a principle with the Colonel and me, never to interfere with the varmints when they want to bury their dead."
Ned Preston was greatly relieved to hear this, but the two said nothing to the others, through fear that Megill or Turner would not be so considerate of the wishes of the Colonel, whose authority over them was more nominal than actual.
The Wyandot who had taken on himself the duty of carrying away the body of his fallen companion, seemed to acquire confidence from his success. While Ned and Stinger were watching his movements, and while the moon shone with unobstructed light, they saw the body drawn entirely behind the stump, where, after some maneuvering, the warrior partly straightened up, holding the burden over his shoulders and back.
Then he sped with surprising quickness for the river bank, down which he vanished with the load.
His work was done, and the deliverer doubtless believed he had outwitted the whites, who could have shot him without difficulty as he ran.
Colonel Preston, and indeed all the garrison, were constantly expecting the shower of burning arrows, and, because they were delayed, no one dared hope the Wyandots had given over the intention of burning them out of their refuge.
When
within the block-house looked intently at the stockade, they saw nothing but the wall of shadow and the outline of the sharp pickets above; but, as their vision flitted along the front, they caught the faint suggestions of the figures of men standing erect and doubtless intently watching the block-house, from which the rifles of the Kentuckians had flashed but a short time before.
Whenever the moon's light was obscured, nothing but blank darkness met the eye, the line of stockades themselves vanishing from sight. Once one of the warriors moved a few steps to the left, and Jo Stinger and Ned Preston detected it.
"Why not try another shot?" asked the Colonel, when the matter was referred to.
"It is too much guess-work: nobody can take any sort of aim, when it is so dark in the block-house."
"I wonder what their purpose can be," muttered the Colonel, speaking as much to himself as to those near him.