The Settler's Hut.
Before starting they stood for a minute or two looking over the forest which they were to traverse. To Harold's eyes all appeared quiet and still. Here and there were clearings where settlers had established themselves; but, with these exceptions, the forest stretched away like a green sea.

"Tarnation!" Peter exclaimed. "We'll have all our work to get through safely; eh, chief?"

The Seneca nodded.

"What makes you say so?" Harold asked in surprise. "I see nothing."

Peter looked at him reproachfully.

"I'm downright ashamed of ye, lad. You should have been long enough in the woods by this time to know smoke when you see it. Why, there it is curling up from the trees in a dozen--ay, in a score of places. There must be hundreds of men out scouting or camping in them woods."

Harold looked fixedly again at the forests, but even now he could not detect the signs which were so plain to the scout.

"You may call me as blind as a bat, Peter," he said with a laugh, "but I can see nothing. Looking hard I imagine I can see a light mist here and there, but I believe it is nothing but fancy."