Willet shook his head.
"If we get a fire started well," he said, "the snow will seem to feed
it rather than put it out. It's going to help us in more ways than
one, too. I'd expected that we'd have to use flint and steel to touch
off our blaze, but as they're likely to leave their own fire and seek
shelter, maybe we can get a torch there. Now, you two boys keep close
to me and we'll approach that fire, or the place where it was."
They continued a cautious advance, their moccasins making no sound in
the soft snow, all objects invisible at a distance of twelve or
fifteen feet. Yet they saw one Indian warrior on watch, although he
did not see or hear them. He was under the boughs of a small tree and
was crouched against the trunk, protecting himself as well as he could
from the tumbling flakes. He was a Huron, a capable warrior with his
five senses developed well, and in normal times he was ambitious and
eager for distinction in his wilderness world, but just now he did not
dream that any one from the fort could be near. So the three passed
him, unsuspected, and drew close to the fire, which now showed as a
white glow through the dusk, sufficient proof that it was still
burning.
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