A single warrior would have had no trouble in creeping undiscovered to a point from which he could have sent a bullet through the unconscious forms of Hank Hazletine and Fred Greenwood.

This probability never occurred to Jack until he started on his return to the fire, from whose immediate vicinity he should never have allowed himself to have been tempted.
Even then his strange remissness would not have impressed itself upon him but for a startling discovery.

The fire was beginning to smoulder once more, but enough of its glare penetrated the wood for him to note the black, column-like trunks of the trees between it and him.

With his gaze upon the central point, he saw a figure moving in the path of light and coming toward him.

It looked as if stamped in ink against the yellow background, and, like the former intruder, was advancing without noise.
An awful fear thrilled Jack Dudley as he abruptly halted and partly raised his Winchester.
"While I have been busy with one Indian, another has entered the camp and slain Fred and Hank! He is now after me! There will be no hesitation _this_ time in my shooting!" Before he could secure anything like an aim, the other stepped behind one of the trunks on his right.