The guide discovered the two Indians at the same time that Peleg did and instantly he became greatly agitated. Once more he turned to Sam Oliver and in low tones begged him not to kill the man who had been his foster-father nor the other who had been his foster-brother.

"Sam," whispered Peleg, "it will be better for us just to make prisoners of these two men. I think we ought to do this. The boy plainly has spoken the truth. He did not want to betray his father and his brother, and you and I cannot blame him. Take both the Indians prisoners, but do not fire upon them."

Aware that Sam was somewhat moved by his plea, Peleg repeated his request more urgently and was almost as relieved as the guide when at last Sam reluctantly consented.

In accordance with the directions of the hunter the band scattered to surround the place where the two unsuspecting Indians were cooking their dinner. When all the preliminaries had been completed, Sam Oliver stepped forward and in his loudest tones demanded the surrender of both men. At the same time his companions darted forward, making a rush upon the unarmed warriors.

To the surprise of every one, the old Indian made a desperate resistance. With an almost incredible quickness the Indian boy dodged his enemies and escaped to the forest. The old man, apparently striving to hold back the attacking party, resisted to the utmost of his strength until in his rage Sam Oliver raised his rifle to his shoulder and shot him.

The recent guide, when he saw his foster-father fall, instantly rushed to the spot where the old man was lying. The aged warrior was bleeding profusely, but he was still conscious. Flinging himself upon the ground beside the prostrate body, with the tears streaming down his cheeks and his voice broken by sobs, again and again the white Shawnee spoke to the aged warrior. Even Sam Oliver was silent as he saw the grief of their guide.

His companions indifferently watched the bereaved boy, but Peleg looked away when he saw the old man raise his hand feebly and place it upon the head of his adopted son. It was a token of his forgiveness, although his few words were not understood by the listening group. The meaning of the act, however, was clear to every one.

Soon the old warrior breathed his last, and as soon as Sam Oliver was aware that the end had come his sympathy speedily departed. Turning once more to the guide and ignoring the grief of the boy, he roughly said: "Now take us where that canoe is buried. The other Indian has got away from us, and he will probably make straight for the canoe. You lead us there about as fast as you can travel and we will try to head him off before he can go down the river!"

In broken utterances the young white Shawnee begged the hunter not to enforce this last demand. "Me show where me fader was. Me fader dead. Me no show where broder is. Me wan' broder escape. No go broder! No go broder!" he besought the hunter earnestly.

Sam Oliver, however, was not to be turned from his decision. "You go with us or I shall make you!" he said, and in spite of Peleg's protests he turned the young guide's face to the forest and with many threats compelled him to lead the way.

Two hours elapsed before they came near the place where the canoe had been buried. Creeping cautiously among the trees, the settlers came within rifle shot of the spot, and as they peered keenly about them no one at first was able to discover the presence of the young Indian.

By the direction of Oliver every man remained in his hiding-place waiting for the arrival of the Indian boy, who, Sam was convinced, would soon come to the place. This expectation was fulfilled, as in about ten minutes the young Indian appeared and started to the sandy sh.o.r.e of the river.

Without hesitation he proceeded to the spot where the canoe had been hidden and, as he began to dig the sand, the hunter ordered his companions to fire upon him. The reports of the five rifles rang out together.

The young Shawnee leaped high into the air and fell dead upon the sand.

Doubtless he never knew of the unwilling treachery of his foster-brother by which he and his father had lost their lives.

CHAPTER XV

GATHERING CLOUDS

The grief of the white Shawnee at the death of his foster-brother was pitiful to behold. Even Sam Oliver and his companions, who seldom showed any sympathy for the Indians, were not unmoved by his agonized cries of grief.

In the Shawnee tongue, some words of which all the white men present understood, the young stranger poured forth his sorrows. He called upon the spirits of his foster-father and brother to wait for him in their journey to the happy hunting-grounds. He explained that in no way had his treachery been of his own choosing. In spite of his protest, he explained, he had been compelled to direct the white men to the place where those who were nearest and dearest to him had fallen before their fire.

Several minutes elapsed and no one of the settlers spoke. Then Sam Oliver said sharply: "We have had enough of this! I feel just about as guilty as I do when I shoot a panther cub." Without a further word the hunter stepped to the place where the body of the young Indian was lying and scalped his victim. Even Peleg, hardened though he was to the scenes that were enacted upon the border, shuddered as he saw his companion perform this act.

At the urgent request of Peleg the white Shawnee was permitted to return with his newly found friend to bury the body of his foster-father, after his brother also had received decent burial at his hands.

When this act, in which Peleg had aided, was completed, the young hunter turned to his heartbroken companion and said, "You must come to the fort with me."

"No go! No go!" wailed the visitor.

"I do not blame you very much," acknowledged Peleg, "but you have no other home, and you might just as well come with me. I am sure you will be treated kindly, and as soon as Daniel Boone comes back you need have no further fears. If you go back to the Shawnees they will think you have betrayed your father and brother. Of course I understand that you did not do anything of the kind."

"Me do! Me false to me fader," interrupted the white Shawnee, his lamentations breaking forth afresh.

"What is your name?" abruptly demanded Peleg.

The reply of his companion sounded to him very like Tontileaugo, but although it was repeated several times Peleg was unable to p.r.o.nounce it distinctly.

"I might call you Tonti, and I might call you Henry. Which do you like better?"

"No call Tonti."

"Then I will call you Henry. Don't you remember what your name was when you were a white boy?"

"Henry" shook his head, although plainly he was striving to recall the name which belonged to the years that were now dim in his memory.

"You come with me," said Peleg.

Together the two boys returned to the fort. Neither of them spoke until they entered within the stockade, where the men of the settlement were a.s.sembled listening to Sam Oliver's dramatic description of the events which had just taken place.

The sight of the hunter seemed to revive the sorrow of Henry, as Peleg henceforth called the young stranger, and bring back recollections of his own, unwilling treachery to the family which had been kind to him since the time of his adoption into the tribe.

However, Peleg did his utmost to shield his friend, to whom his heart went out in strong sympathy.

"What you goin' to do with your friend?" laughed Sam as he spoke to Peleg when the group at last scattered.

"I am going to take care of him," replied Peleg quietly.

"Make a pet of him, are you? The next rattler I find or the next wolf's cub I run across I will bring back to you, lad, and let you make a pet of that, too. The only trouble is that a rattlesnake is kinder at heart than an Indian."

Peleg shook his head but did not reply to this statement of the hunter.

"It is true, what I am tellin' you," continued Sam, as if somehow he was striving to justify himself. "It's got to be extermination. Either you kill the redskins or they will kill you. There isn't room for both in the same land. They are trying to kill us off, and I am not one to sit down quietly and invite them to bring their tomahawks and brain me. If I can get the drop on them before they can get it on me, that's all to my advantage."

"I think Henry feels----" began Peleg.

"Henry? Who's Henry?" broke in Sam Oliver.

"That's the name I have given this boy. He told me what his name was in Shawnee, but I could not quite get it. It sounded like Tontileaugo, and I offered to call him Tonti for short but he didn't like that."

"You will live to regret the day you ever took him in," warned Sam.

"But he is a white boy," persisted Peleg.

"Born white, but raised an Indian. It doesn't make much difference where a man is born. He grows to be like what he sees and is used to. He has been brought up to look at things through Indian eyes and he thinks Indian thoughts. You will find he will play you false before you are done with him."

"I shall have to take my chance as to that," said Peleg. "Daniel Boone has told me to try to do something to help somebody every day. He told me to start out with that in my mind the first thing every morning."

"You are makin' a mistake, lad," said Sam Oliver more quietly.