But before going far they sank down in a dense thicket, and lay quite still.

Then they saw the Miami band pass--fifteen or sixteen warriors, led by Yellow Panther, with Braxton Wyatt trailing at the rear.

"The renegade!" said Shif'less Sol savagely, under his breath.
The band passed on, but the three borderers did not stir.

They knew that the trail would be lost presently, and some, at least, of the warriors would come back seeking it.
Fifteen minutes, a half hour, passed, and then they heard distant footsteps.

Henry Ware, peering above the bushes, saw a face that belonged to a white youth, and suddenly a daring project formed itself in his mind.
Braxton Wyatt was alone! Other members of the Miami band must be near, but they were not in sight, and, above all, Braxton Wyatt was for the present alone! Only a few minutes were needed! "Watch what I do!" whispered Henry Ware to his comrades--he knew that their keen minds would need no other hint.
Braxton Wyatt came back, looking on the ground, his rifle lying loosely across his shoulder.