He had grown up with them.

Loyalty to the king had nothing to do with his becoming a renegade or a Tory; he could not plead lost lands or exile for taking part in such massacres as Wyoming or Cherry Valley, but, long since an ally of the Indians, he was now at the head of a Tory band that murdered and burned from sheer pleasure.
"Some day we'll get him, as shore as the sun rises an' sets," said Shif'less Sol, repeating Henry's prediction.
But for the present they "holed up," and now their foresight was justified.

To such as they, used to the hardships of forest life, "The Alcove" was a cheery nest.

From its door they watched the wild fowl streaming south, pigeons, ducks, and others outlined against the dark, wintry skies.

So numerous were these flocks that there was scarcely a time when they did not see one passing toward the warm South.
Shif'less Sol and Paul sat together watching a great flock of wild geese, arrow shaped, and flying at almost incredible speed.