When the trapper opened his eyes he did not stir a limba way into
which he had got during his long experience on the frontiers. He
merely moved his head from side to side, so as to see anything that
was to be seen.
The first object that met his eye was the boy Brainerd, sound asleep.
Apprehensive then that something had occurred, he turned his startled
gaze in different directions, scanning everything as well as it could
be done in the pale moonlight.
When he caught sight of the wall stretched across the valley, he
rubbed his eyes, and looked at it again and again, scarcely able to
credit his senses. He was sure it was not there a few hours before,
and he could not comprehend what it could mean; but it was a verity,
and his experience told him that it could be the work of no one except
the Indians, who had outwitted him at last.
His first feeling was that of indignation toward the boy who had
permitted this to take place while he was asleep, but his mind quickly
turned upon the more important matter of meeting the peril, which,
beyond all doubt, was of the most serious character.
As yet he had not stirred his body, and looking toward the prison
wall, he caught a glimpse of the phantom-like figures, as they
occasionally flitted about, securing the best possible position,
before the whites should awake.
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