The horses in particular are both hobbled and picketed, and
sentries are posted all round the camp. Yet, in spite of these
precautions, hostile Indians manage to elude the sentries and creep
into the camp. When a thief thus succeeds in effecting an entrance,
his chief danger is past. He rises boldly to his feet, and wrapping
his blanket or buffalo robe round him, he walks up and down as if he
were a member of the tribe. At the same time he dexterously cuts the
lariats of such horses as he observes are not hobbled. He dare not
stoop to cut the hobbles, as the action would be observed, and
suspicion would be instantly aroused. He then leaps on the best horse
he can find, and uttering a terrific war-whoop darts away into the
plains, driving the loosened horses before him.
No such dark thieves were supposed to be near the camp under the
birch-tree, however, so Joe, and Dick, and Henri ate their supper in
comfort, and let their horses browse at will on the rich pasturage.
A bright ruddy fire was soon kindled, which created, as it were, a
little ball of light in the midst of surrounding darkness for the
special use of our hardy hunters.
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