The sick man had to be carried on a stretcher, and the men took turns at the task. As soon as breakfast was had, the expedition moved, three frontiersmen well to the front, on the watch for the first sign of the enemy. Thus a mile had been covered, and they were approaching a spot where their route lay between a cliff and a hill, when an interruption came from the rear. The expedition halted, and a minute later Sam Barringford came up on a run, and well-nigh exhausted. “I war afraid ye’d move afore I got back,” panted the old frontiersman. “Ye hadn’t ought to have done it. You be a-walkin’ right into a hornets’ nest.” “Where have you been?” questioned Dave. “Been follerin’ them Injuns. They are a bad crowd under Eagle Nose, an’ they mean to wipe us out, if they kin do it. They held a grand pow-wow last night, and they have moved forward to the cliff and the hill thet’s ahead. When we go through below they reckoned to shoot us down with bullets an’ arrows, an’ roll some big rocks down on us. I waited to learn jest what they war up to an’ thet kept me from gittin’ back to camp afore.” Sam Barringford, after that, related his night’s adventures in detail. At no time had the Indians seen him or suspected his presence, and he had been so close that he had even stolen a gun belonging to one of them, a weapon of ancient French make, which he now had with him. Having no desire to run into the “hornets’ nest” which the old frontiersman had described, Joseph Morris determined to move onward by another route. This suited Barringford, but he was of a mind to attack the Indians because of the plot they had concocted. “We must teach ’em a lesson,” he said. “If we don’t, it won’t be safe travelin’ for us at any time.” This was considered sound advice by many present, and in the end it was decided that six men should climb the hill ahead, coming out above the Indians if possible. The rest of the expedition, in the meantime, was to move onward around the cliff, making a wide detour, to avoid all possible contact with the enemy. “I want to go with Sam,” said Henry to his father, and was at last permitted to accompany the old frontiersman. Dave had to remain with the others, to help take care of the horses and the sick man. Sam Barringford knew exactly where he was going, having traveled the ground several times in the past. He was a natural-born woodsman, and never forgot a locality once he had visited it. To him trees and rocks were the same as signboards to a dweller in the city. The only time he got lost was when a territory was entirely new to him. The way was by no means an easy one and, when the top of the hill was reached, the tramp through the snow had taken the wind out of more than one of the detachment. The men and Henry rested for a few minutes, and then, cautioned by Barringford, moved slowly and cautiously over the hilltop in the direction of the trail far below.