The surrounding hills kept off the wind, and it was warm beneath the sheltering scrub.
But Charles sat up with his hands clasped round his knees, his eyes intently fixed upon the Indian village.

Beside him were a few of his chosen comrades amongst the Rangers--men older than the hardy youths who had organized the band--settlers like himself, who had suffered losses like his own, and in whose hearts there burned a steady fire of vengeful hate that could only be quenched in blood.
To them crept one of the guides who knew the district and the town of Kittanning.

With him were his son and another hardy lad.

He looked at Charles and made a sign.

The next moment some six or eight men were silently creeping through the sleeping soldiers, unnoticed even by the sharp eyes of the Colonel, who was stationed at some little distance.
Like human snakes these men wriggled themselves down the tortuous path, keeping always under cover of the bushes; and even when the open ground below was reached, they slipped so silently along beneath the cover of the hedges that not an eye saw them, not even the sharp ears of the Indians heard their insidious approach.
"Which is the house of Captain Jacobs ?" asked Charles in a whisper of the guide.
"It lies yonder," he answered, "in the centre of the village.