Ree did not doubt that Lone-Elk, expecting that he and John would meet
to talk over the events of the day and the outcome of the "talk," would
either spy upon him as he made his way home, or keep watch of the
clearing during the night.
The lad easily saw in the Seneca the influence which set Captain Pipe
and many of the other Delawares against him and against John. He
concluded, too, that so far as Lone-Elk was concerned, the accusation of
witchcraft was but a means to an end.
He was certain that the Seneca had some evil purpose in view in causing
the Delawares to believe the absurd things he told them. Or was it only
to shield himself from suspicion in connection with Big Buffalo's death
that he had invented the witchcraft story? Was the Seneca, then, really
the murderer of the Delaware warrior? If he were not, he must have some
reason for turning the people of Captain Pipe's village against their
white neighbors other than merely to avert suspicion from himself.
Often the worn and anxious boy recalled the warning Captain Pipe had
given him to carry to the settlements no news of what the Indians were
doing. Could it be that some attack upon Gen. Wayne's men was being
planned and the Delawares, inspired by Lone-Elk, were afraid the white
boys would hear of it and give the alarm? Or did Lone-Elk merely fear
the Paleface pioneers would discover the secret lead mine which gave him
his hold upon Captain Pipe? Maybe that keen old redskin himself feared
the same thing and dreaded lest the white soldiers should invade the
country to win possession of so rich a prize.
Ree wondered if he was right in any of these surmises, then it would
seem that the wish of the Indians was to cause him and John to forsake
their cabin and their clearing and be gone to return no more. On the
other hand, after the warning he had received, it would be positively
unsafe for him to travel far in the direction of Fort Pitt or the
settlements, lest the redskins suspect him of going to betray some
secret, and so make an end of him. What then could he do?
So, completely tired out after the past two anxious days and nights,
Kingdom floundered more and more hopelessly in a sea of "ifs" and "but
thens," and confused question marks, as he tried in vain to arrive at
what would seem to him a correct summing up of the situation.
"It's just no use thinking any more about it," he declared to himself
when half way home. But he added, "Not now, at least," as a second
thought, for he well knew in what direction his mind would turn when he
had rested and could reflect with more composure.
A half mile from the Delaware town Ree had let Phoebe gallop wherever
the trail was open enough to make such speed possible, and he had a grim
satisfaction in the belief that Lone-Elk was following him.
The Seneca was equal to such a task. Nothing tired him; no hardships or
labor were tod great for him to undertake when he had a point to gain.
Kingdom knew this well. He saw in the hateful fellow a spirit which
nothing could turn aside and a strength and cunning far superior to the
same qualities in other Indians, though all were gifted in this way.
"I only hope he is following. If I could be sure of it and make him run
his legs half off to keep up, only to disappoint him in the end, I'd
gallop you every step, Phoebe, every last step," Ree told the sagacious
mare, who was picking her steps with the utmost nicety.
And the fact was that the tenacious Seneca, thinking that Kingdom would
surely go at once to his companion, was following the horse and rider at
no great distance behind. He was afraid to go forward to the clearing,
and spy upon the cabin from the edge of the woods lest Ree meet John at
some appointed place along the trail. He thought with savage pleasure of
the satisfaction he would have in dragging the Little Paleface before
the assembled Delawares. With a sort of fierce happiness he anticipated
the pride and joy he would have in hanging the white boy's scalp above
the door of his lodge where all might see.
Forced as he was to run at a good, round speed in order to keep the
sound of the horse's hoofs within hearing, and being tired and in no
pleasant frame of mind to begin with, Lone-Elk became furious as mile
after mile he followed on and all to no purpose. His very scowl was
frightful. Again and again was he tempted to overtake the young white
man and vent his hatred in one safe, sure shot from behind.
Had the Seneca attempted to put this thought into execution, however, he
would certainly have regretted it. Unknown to him, Fishing Bird was also
on the trail. Keenly as Lone-Elk followed the horse and rider, he in
turn was spied upon by the Delaware who, for a favor done him long ago,
was willing to risk his life for his Paleface friend.
As Kingdom reached the clearing and mounted the hill to the log house,
Lone-Elk changed his course and traversed the edge of the woods to a
point from which he could command a view of the cabin and the whole open
space about it. Fishing Bird changed his course also. From behind a
clump of hazel bushes he kept his eyes on the Seneca unceasingly.
Long after the firelight shone brightly from the door of the white boys'
home, Lone-Elk, silent as the very tree trunk which screened him,
watched and waited. Scarcely could Fishing Bird see him, yet with equal
patience, he also remained at his post.
Little guessing how closely his every movement was scrutinized by eyes
in which there was not one gleam of kindness or of justice, Kingdom went
about his evening work in the barn and house and prepared his lonely
supper. One consoling thought, and only one, came to him. It was that he
could consider himself safe for the present. He would have time to meet
John when he returned, and then if they agreed that their only safety
lay in deserting the cabin,--the cabin and all they had accomplished in
the clearing,--they would do so. With a few hours' start they could,
with their horses, leave any pursuing Indians well behind.
Still, Ree assured himself more than once flight would be the last thing
he would recommend or think of. He declared it might be that Lone-Elk
was more than a match for him, but the Seneca would have to prove it,
and meanwhile the game he had commenced was one at which two could play.
Much thinking of all that had occurred and trying in vain to reason out
the inward meaning of it all drove Kingdom to his bunk, completely worn
out. With a determination, whose strength was one of his
characteristics, he succeeded in putting his difficulties from him for
the time, and soon soundly slept.
When the moon had risen, when the firelight in the cabin no longer
brightly burned, when all the clearing was hushed and silent, Lone-Elk
gave utterance to a contemptuous, disgusted "Ugh!"
Fishing Bird, alert and faithful every moment, heard the sound and noted
with exquisite satisfaction the disappointment and chagrin the Seneca's
tone expressed. As Lone-Elk turned and moved stealthily, as his habit
was, deeper into the woods, and in the direction of the Delaware town,
he followed. Elation over the toppling of Lone-Elk's hopes after all the
toil and trouble with which he had followed the Paleface youth filled
his heart. Dejected and sour must the Seneca go back to the village
again. The thought that he, also, must make the weary journey and that
he, also, had had but his labor for his pains, did not come to him. His
conscience commended him for what he had done and the hardship of it all
was only play.
It happened, however, that the generous Fishing Bird arrived at his
conclusions quite too hastily. Satisfied that Lone-Elk was returning to
the village, he gave little further heed to the Seneca's movements.
Having allowed the latter a long start, he was content to go on slowly,
taking pains only that he should not come upon the other unawares, or be
likewise surprised himself.
When the morning broke on the village of the Delawares the Seneca was
not there. Fishing Bird was the first to observe his absence. He had
been away from the time the council closed the day before, some of the
young braves said. They feared Lone-Elk, but they also admired him for
his strength and his knowledge, and being much given to watching all his
movements, they had noticed his absence from the first.
Alarmed and much provoked with himself, the Indian friend of the two
young white men spent an anxious day. He feared at any moment to see the
Seneca come striding proudly among the lodges, as his custom was,
dangling the scalp of Little Paleface in such a way that none would fail
to see it. Again and again he was tempted to visit the cabin of the
boys, but dreaded to do so lest his presence there be discovered and
result in so much of suspicion being aroused that his usefulness in the
lads' interests would be ended.
All day Fishing Bird moved idly about or sat silently in his lodge,
showing neither by word or look or action the anxiety he felt, though it
increased more and more as the afternoon waned and Lone-Elk continued
absent. But at last his long watch ended. Just at sunset the Seneca came
wearily into the village. At his belt hung two pouches, both of which
seemed heavy. One of them he gave to a group of squaws who were tending
the boiling of a great pot of beans. It contained salt. The other he
carried to Captain Pipe and without a word emptied its contents upon a
bearskin at the chief's feet.
"More bullets!"
"More bullets, more lead, Chief Hopocon," the Seneca answered, using the
Delaware's Indian name, "more lead for the brave warriors of the
Delawares."