One fact gave Wharton a thrill of gratitude and hope; Larry was not with the group of Indians, and, therefore, could not be a prisoner.
Young Edwards had been under the impression that there were about a score of Shawanoes with which he and Larry Murphy had collided, but counting those that had fallen by the way, there were less.
The absence of the youth from the camp could not be a guarantee of his weal, for he might have been stricken down in the woods, but the sign had been so favorable that Wharton felt more hopeful than at any time since their separation.
He was quick, however, to notice a significant fact: Blazing Arrow was also absent.
"I would give anything to know where he is and what he is doing," thought the youth. "It may be that he is leaning against the tree and still studying over the yarn that is to prevent the rest knowing I outran him, but it is more likely he is prowling through the woods after Larry and me."
The answer to this conjecture came suddenly and startlingly. Wharton, not forgetting his caution, kept well back in the gloom, with his body screened behind the trunk of a tree. He was attentively watching the group around the camp-fire, when something moved between him and the light, partly eclipsing it.
A second look showed the form of the twelfth Shawanoe, walking silently toward the blaze; and, as he joined the others, and stood so the firelight revealed his features, Wharton Edwards recognized him as Blazing Arrow.
"He has struck it," muttered the youth. "He has got the yarn in shape at last. I wish I could hear it, and find what sort of a fancy he has."
The great runner was without any gun, and it was evident that he must have wrenched his inventive powers to straighten out matters so as to retain his prestige among these warlike people. His position as a great warrior and the real leader of the party could not fail to help in the test to which he was subjected.
The arrival of the dusky desperado caused a sensation. Every face was turned, and those who were seated on the tree rose to greet him. The silence in the wood allowed Wharton to hear their gruff, jerky sentences, but since he did not understand a word of Shawanoe, his ears were of no service.