We dozed peacefully in the green shade, and smoked our pipes, waiting
for the return of our envoys. They came towards sundown, slipping among
us like ghosts.
Ringan signalled to me, and we put our coats over the horses' heads to
prevent their whinnying. He stamped out the last few ashes of the fire,
and Shalah motioned us all flat on our faces. Then I crawled to the
edge of the ridge, and looked down through a tangle of vines on the
little valley.
Our precautions had been none too soon, for a host was passing below,
as stealthily as if it had been an army of the sheeted dead. Most were
mounted, and it was marvellous to see the way in which they managed
their horses, so that the beasts seemed part of the riders, and partook
of their vigilance. Some were on foot, and moved with the long, loping,
in-toed Indian stride. I guessed their number at three hundred, but
what awed me was their array. This was no ordinary raid, but an
invading army. My sight, as I think I have said, is as keen as a
hawk's, and I could see that most of them carried muskets as well as
knives and tomahawks. The war-paint glistened on each breast and
forehead, and in the oiled hair stood the crested feathers, dyed
scarlet for battle. My spirits sank as I reflected that now we were cut
off from the Tidewater.
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