"I don't think there's any Indians or Tories about here, and the Lord be thanked," remarked the settler, who found it about impossible to hold his tongue when it was once loosed; "but it will be well to act as if there was danger at every turn now. I advise you all to do like me--and that is, not to speak a word when on the way through the woods--for I tell you that it is the easiest thing in the world to let a whole tribe know your poking round--" "Be still!" struck in the Mohawk, evidently angered, where the others were only amused. "Talk too much!" This peremptory summons to put a check to his clatter was accepted in the most philosophic manner by the individual for whom the command was intended. "That's what I have always maintained," he said. "People are ever inclined to use their tongues more than they ought." "Is your gun loaded?" asked Lena-Wingo, in a more considerate manner. "Yes. I have got a double charge in her." Thereupon the Indian whispered to Ned Clinton and Jo Minturn to drop quietly behind, doing it in such a way that their disappearance would not be noticed by their vaunting leader. The hint was acted upon and within five minutes from the time it was given, Mr. Perkins was conducting only the red scout through the forest, while he supposed the three were directly in the rear of him, awed and speechless by the stunning observations he was continually making for their benefit. "As I was about to remark when you interrupted me," continued the loquacious settler, "there is no fault more frequent than that of using the tongue when it should be permitted to rest, and the Lord be thanked that weakness can never be laid to my charge. When Mrs. Perkins and me was a-coming to our retreat in the woods, she was so inclined to talk that I had to admonish her several times it was likely to get us into trouble. But law me! who ever heard of a handsome young lady that would take any advice about talking? Mrs. Perkins is very sensitive on that subject, and she chose to disregard what I said, and what was the consequence? Why, my friends--it wasn't five--certainly not ten--minutes after that, while we were picking our way along as best we could--What's that?" The settler paused in his walk and talk, like one who was suddenly apprised that he was on the brink of some peril. "What's that?" he repeated in a whisper, turning his head toward the Mohawk, who was dimly discernible in the gloom. "Iroquois Indian look for you." "Good heavens and earth! You don't think so, do you?" fairly gasped the man, trembling with affright. "He Indian--he hear you talk--he come look for you." "Oh, heaven! It won't do for me to stay here," whispered the poor fellow, beginning a cautious retreat that brought him into collision with the Mohawk, who was standing perfectly still, as if listening for something that would tell him what the real danger was. Lena-Wingo threw him off with such force that he stumbled forward upon his hands and knees.