Then they stood a few moments
in the shadow of the hut and listened to the sounds of revelry,
the monotone of the story-tellers, and the chant of the singers.
"You don't know which huts they are in, do you?" asked Henry,
anxiously.
"No, I don't," replied tile shiftless one.
"Get back!" exclaimed Henry softly. "Don't you see who's passing
out there?"
"Braxton Wyatt," said Sol. "I'd like to get my hands on that
scoundrel. I've had to stand a lot from him."
"The score must wait. But first we'll provide you with weapons.
See, the Iroquois have stacked some of their rifles here while
they're at the feast."
A dozen good rifles had been left leaning against a hut near by,
and Henry, still watching lest he be observed, chose the best,
with its ammunition, for his comrade, who, owing to his
semi-civilized attire, still remained in the shadow of the other
hut.
"Why not take four?" whispered the shiftless one. "We'll need
them for the other boys."
Henry took four, giving two to his comrade, and then they hastily
slipped back to the other side of the hut. A Wyandot and a
Mohawk were passing, and they had eyes of hawks. Henry and Sol
waited until the formidable pair were gone, and then began to
examine the huts, trying to surmise in which their comrades lay.
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