“They will if they have noticed how few we are,” replied the young borderer. “And if they cross the river, our tracks will tell them that.” After about an hour’s hard riding they slackened their pace, and then at the top of a knoll they halted. They had emerged from the forest some time ago, and from where they were they had a clear view of the surrounding country for miles around. Away swept the green of the early autumn, all rippling in the breeze and shining in the sunlight. Here and there a splotch of yellow or red marked where the fall had already set its hand. The sky was cloudless and the air very clear. “It’s the sort of a day when we can see great distances,” said Frank. “I don’t think I remember ever seeing a finer.” “Well, and just because of that,” said Jack Davis, with the caution of experience, “we’d better not stand here in such full view. If there are any reds on our trail, they’ll mark us, even if they’re still miles away.” “Ugh!” agreed Running Elk, in prompt approval. “Creek have good eyes. See far!” So they drew back below the shoulder of the knoll, dismounted and gave the horses a breathing space. Frank, as he watched his friend, saw that his face was serious and that his looks in the direction of the waving green forest which they had left behind were intense. Running Elk also kept his keen black eyes upon the distant woods; as he stood watching, with barbaric composure, he had the appearance of a splendidly wrought bronze, meant to typify vigilance and grace. Suddenly Jack spoke. “There they are,” said he, pointing. “There’s a big band of them, and they are following in our tracks like hounds.” From out the green of the woods came a full score of Creeks. Some were mounted and some were afoot. They carried shields and spears and bows and arrows; and here and there the metal of a rifle barrel glistened as the sun’s rays struck it. “They seem to come on boldly, and without much thought of concealment,” said Frank, after he had watched them for a moment. “And that is not at all the way I thought Indians made war.” “Um, Creek no care who see,” stated Running Elk. “Got hill, with ring around him.” “What’s that?” said Frank, only partly catching the Cherokee’s meaning. “He means that they’ve got us surrounded,” said Jack Davis. “And he’s right. Just throw a look around.” Startled, Frank did so; his heart gave a leap and began to beat swifter; from all directions, closing in upon the knoll, were bands of armed savages. CHAPTER V THE FIGHT ON THE KNOLL For a moment or two Frank Lawrence was too startled to speak; but when he could collect his wits his first action was to throw his rifle around in position for use; his second was to look at Jack Davis and the Cherokee hunter. “Well,” said he, quietly enough, “we seem to be in for it, don’t we?” “There’s a good hundred of them, all told,” spoke Jack. “I wonder where they all sprang from.”