"Where did you see the negro?"
"In the old fort."
"The old fort! What was he doing there?"
"Maracota followed his trail--a lame foot and a stick--and saw him as he
entered the ruin; some one was waiting for him inside."
"Who was with the negro," demanded Wacora.
"His master," repeated Maracota.
"Warren Rody?"
Maracota nodded.
"I heard their talk," he said.
"What did they say?" asked the young chief.
"At first, I could not hear--they spoke in whispers. After a time they
grew angry. Warren abused Crookleg and struck him. The black man
uttered a fierce oath and leaped over the wall of the fort at the side
opposite to where I lay hid."
"Did you hear their conversation before they quarrelled?"
"I heard the pale-face say Crookleg had only half done his errand and
must return to complete it. The black refused. It was then the other
got angry and struck him."
"This is very strange, Maracota. It is some treachery I cannot
understand. The negro must be found and questioned!"
"Well, Massa Injun, dat ain't hard to do. He, he, he!"
Had the fiend of darkness himself risen between the two Indians, they
could not have been more startled than when these words were uttered in
their ears, for it was Crookleg who spoke.
The darkey appeared delighted at the effect his sudden appearance had
created, and continued for some time to chuckle in great glee.
"Yas! here be de 'dentical nigger wot you was a-wishin' for. You hab
found him 'ithout gwin far. He, he, he!"
Wacora turned sternly towards him.
"And having found you, wretch, I mean to keep you till I've made you
speak the truth."
"De trufe, Massa Injun, am what dis ole nigga always 'peak. He can't
help it, kase it comes so na'tral to him. Trufe an' innocence is dis
chile's on'y riches, tank heaven!"
The look which accompanied this impious speech was almost diabolical.
Wacora cut him short in an attempt to continue his speech, by a command
instantly to make known what Warren Rody wanted, with what message he
had been charged, and to whom.
Crookleg, however was not easily taken at a disadvantage.
"Well, Massa Injun, I don't mind tellin' you somet'ing, but I don't like
talkin' afore other folk. You send dis indiwiddle away," pointing to
Maracota, "an' ole Crook'll tell you all about it. He meant to do so,
when he comed here so sudden."
With a sign the chief dismissed Maracota, and telling the black to
follow, led him a little distance further from the town.
A long, and apparently interesting conversation ensued, in which
Crookleg's gesticulations were, as usual, violent, while the young
chief, with arms folded, and brows knit, listened to his narration.
It was late ere they separated, the negro hobbling back in the direction
of the ruin, while Wacora returned to his uncle's dwelling.