Willet and Tayoga were crouched near him, their rifles thrust forward
a little, and just beyond them was Captain Colden who had drawn a
small sword, more as an evidence of command than as a weapon. The
men, city bred, were silent, but the faces of some of them still
expressed amazement and incredulity. Robert's quick and powerful
imagination instantly projected itself into their minds, and he saw as
they saw. To them the cry of a wolf was the cry of a real wolf, the
forest was dark, lonely and uncomfortable, but it was empty of any
foe, and the four who had come to them were merely trying to create a
sense of their own importance. They began to move restlessly, and it
required Captain Colden's whispered but sharp command to still them
again.
The cry of the wolf, used much by both the Indians and the borderers
as a signal, came now from the east, and after the lapse of a minute
it was repeated from the west. Call and answer were a relief to
Robert, whose faculties were attuned to such a high degree that any
relief to the strain, though it brought the certainty of attack, was
welcome.
"You're sure those cries were made by our enemies?" said young Colden.
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