"Easier nor I expected," was the old frontiersman's answer. "As soon as it was settled the post should be attacked there was some confusion, and the guard left the wigwam. I yanked and pulled with all my might and at last the stake came out of the ground. Then I rolled to the back of the wigwam and slipped under the skins to some bushes. As soon as I was that far, I got on my feet and legged it for all I knew how. I ran along the river for about a mile, because I didn't know how to get across with my hands tied. At last I got the rawhides loose and slipped 'em, and then I came over at a shallow spot where I didn't have to swim but a few yards. I ran as fast as I could, for I didn't know how soon the attack would start." "Something has gone wrong, or they would be here by this time," put in Sanderson. Glotte viewed the coming of Sam Barringford with great astonishment. "How you geet avay?" he asked. "That is my business, Glotte," answered the old frontiersman. "I reckon you thought I couldn't do it, eh?" And he chuckled to himself. "Zat fellow ees a sharp one," was the Frenchman's comment. "He ees like ze flea to slip avay, _oui!_" Throughout the remainder of the night the guard remained as watchful as ever. But it was labor lost, for neither French nor Indians showed themselves. At daybreak White Buffalo said he would go out on another scouting tour, taking with him two of his braves. They moved off by the way of the river bank and then made a large semicircle, returning to the post from a diametrically opposite direction. "Wanderers and bad Frenchmen all gone," announced the chief, on coming back. "They came, but did not fight." "Do you mean to say that they have been here?" cried James Morris. White Buffalo nodded several times. "Five canoes come down the river, land by the four big trees. The trail is in the mud and the wet grass--so many Frenchmen"--he held up five fingers--"and so many Indians"--holding up both hands twice and then four fingers, a total of twenty-four. "Where did they go to?" asked Henry. "Go into the woods and stand. Two walk around to the hill--one canoe land on other side of river and Indians go up past the post--then come back. Then all gone once more. Afraid to fight! The Frenchmen and the Wanderers are cowards!" And the face of the Delaware showed his deep disdain. "It must be true," put in Sanderson. "They most likely met the Indian who came here first, and then the fellow with Glotte, and both told 'em it would be of no use--that we were too strong for them." "Well, if they are gone, I hope they don't come back again," said Dave, and a number standing around echoed the sentiment. CHAPTER XXII THE ROCK BY THE RIVER The Indians did not return, and in forty-eight hours the scare was over, and the hunters and trappers sallied forth from the trading-post as before, confident that Sanderson had been right,--that the enemy had thought the little garrison too strong for them.