Joe did not at first like the idea of thus sneaking off from the camp,
and more than once made strong efforts to induce San-it-sa-rish to let
him go; but even that chief's countenance was not so favourable as it
had been. It was clear that he could not make up his mind to let slip
so good a chance of obtaining guns, powder and shot, horses, and
goods, without any trouble; so Joe made up his mind to give them the
slip at once.
A dark night was chosen for the attempt, and the Indian woman went off
with the horses to the place where firewood for the camp was usually
cut. Unfortunately, the suspicion of that wily savage Mahtawa had been
awakened, and he stuck close to the hunters all day--not knowing what
was going on, but feeling convinced that something was brewing which
he resolved to watch, without mentioning his suspicions to any one.
"I think that villain's away at last," whispered Joe to his comrades.
"It's time to go, lads; the moon won't be up for an hour. Come along."
"Have ye got the big powder-horn, Joe?"
"Ay, ay, all right.
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