Crusoe took it up at once, darted off at full speed with the bundle in his mouth, down the shore of the lake towards the ford of the river, and was soon lost to view. In this way, little by little, the goods were conveyed by the faithful dog to the willow bluff and left there, while the stuffed pack still remained in safe keeping in the chiefs tent. 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." "Stop! stop! my knife, my couteau. Ah, here I be! Now, boy." The three set off as usual, strolling carelessly to the outskirts of the camp; then they quickened their pace, and, gaining the lake, pushed off in a small canoe. At the same moment Mahtawa stepped from the bushes, leaped into another canoe, and followed them. "Ha! he must die," muttered Henri. "Not at all," said Joe; "we'll manage him without that." The chief landed and strode boldly up to them, for he knew well that whatever their purpose might be they would not venture to use their rifles within sound of the camp at that hour of the night. As for their knives, he could trust to his own active limbs and the woods to escape and give the alarm if need be. "The Pale-faces hunt very late," he said, with a malicious grin. "Do they love the dark better than the sunshine?" "Not so," replied Joe, coolly; "but we love to walk by the light of the moon. It will be up in less than an hour, and we mean to take a long ramble to-night." "The Pawnee chief loves to walk by the moon, too; he will go with the Pale-faces." "Good!" ejaculated Joe. "Come along, then." The party immediately set forward, although the savage was a little taken by surprise at the indifferent way in which Joe received his proposal to accompany them. He walked on to the edge of the prairie, however, and then stopped. "The Pale-faces must go alone," said he; "Mahtawa will return to his tent."