Having reset the trap, Bob sat down to wait for the coming of Sandy, and, while sitting there, he drew something out of an inner pocket of his hunting tunic, which he examined with considerable interest, as well as with many shakes of the head, that told of bewilderment. The object was a soft and pliable piece of clean birch bark, upon the brown side of which were traced several rude drawings, such as a child might make. This had been done with some sharp instrument, possibly the point of a knife. Bob Armstrong knew well that these crude figures of men, campfires, streams and trails were not intended to express the idle whim of some white child, beginning to draw the things he saw around him. Bob had looked upon Indian picture-writing before now; indeed, a young Shawanee brave, named Blue Jacket, whose life he had once saved, and whose friendship the brothers prized very much, had shown them how to read these symbols, by means of which the red men communicated after their own fashion, just as the palefaces did by putting all those queer little signs in a line, and calling it writing. This was the second time that Bob had found a birch-bark letter left mysteriously at the cabin. No one knew whence they came; but, when the characters were deciphered, on each occasion it was found that some one was warning them against danger that hovered over their heads. On the first occasion, they read that two white men were hanging around near the settlement, and meant to do the Armstrong family harm. The careful mother's first thought was of Kate, her only daughter, a pretty girl, who had already been once carried away by a young chief of the Delawares, and rescued only after much trouble by her brothers, assisted by Simon Kenton and several of the young woodranger's comrades. That very night there had come the alarm of fire, with the greedy flames doing their best to devour the cabin where David Armstrong and his little brood lived. Only through the most valiant labor was the fire conquered before it could do much harm. And, now, Bob had found a second strange warning under the door of the cabin, on that very morning, he being the first to arise. He traced each symbol with his finger as he sat there and mused. There were the same two men again, whom he believed must stand for the ugly French trappers, because they wore hats, which no Indian ever was known to do; and their feet "toed-out," which was another sure sign. In addition, he could make out the cabins of the settlers, and the two bent figures appeared to be creeping toward them. Of course, word of the message had been carried to all the other men in the community, and doubtless there would be a strict watch kept that coming night. If Jacques Larue and his companion, Henri Lacroix, were discovered approaching the settlement, other than erect on their feet, the chances were that they would be given a very warm reception.