His hand leaped to his revolver
instantly. Then he swung around to look at Fox-Foot, but the boy had
disappeared for a moment. The two stood silent, then Jack's quick eye
caught sight of the Chippewa many yards distant crawling on his belly
like a snake, in and out among the blueberry bushes upstream. "Foxy's
gone for all night; we'll never see him until daylight. He'll watch that
canoe like a lynx. He's worth his weight in gold," murmured Matt Larson.
Then he added, addressing Jack, "I thought I brought you out here
because your eyes were gone smash! Why, boy, you have an eye like a
vulture, to make out that canoe and that coat in this twilight."
Jack fairly beamed with pride at this praise. "Larry," he said, "I
believe I saw that canoe as much with my brain as with my eyes; besides,
my eyes don't hurt unless I strain them."
"Your eyes are bully; we'll take care of them, and of you, too, Jack.
You are--yes, invaluable. Well, somebody has got to sleep to-night to
be fit to work up-stream to-morrow, so, Jack, you and I shall be the
somebodies, for Foxy will never close an eye to-night.
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