Then he realized the
futility of such action. As the moccasined feet drew near Alan
could read death in each approaching sound. But at the edge of the
trees there was another pause, and then he knew that the Indians had
scattered.
Straining every muscle in an effort to breathe naturally, like one
asleep, the boy counted the seconds while he waited for the clutch
of a savage hand. And as the moment passed and the attack did not
come he tried to speculate on what the strangers were doing. A
guttural half exclamation soon allowed him a quick breath of
temporary relief. The Indians were only after their supplies.
The savages had found the half-concealed packs of the two boys.
Alan knew this by the location of the sounds that now came to him,
and then, as the prowlers withdrew again into the open and the faint
moonlight, it could be seen that they were bearing all the
belongings of the two lads. For perhaps ten minutes Alan lay
without moving and watched the Indians. He could make out that they
were hastily looking over the packs and dividing what yet remained
among themselves.
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