The perfect quiet within the clearing, and the sense of comfort and greater security which Ree found in having companionship once more, permitted him to be persuaded to lie down for the sleep and rest he so greatly needed, while the younger of the lads did guard duty at the loopholes in the cabin wall. At the first sign of anyone approaching, it was agreed he should call Ree, then quickly conceal himself in the loft. Sooner than the boys expected, the worth of their plan was put to the test.

A party of seven Indians, Wyandots from the region of Sandusky, traveling up the river in canoes, landed that morning at the point where the river met the portage trail, near the cabin of the young Palefaces. As did most of the Indians for many miles around, they knew of the presence of the two venturesome white lads in the wilderness, and did not hesitate to stop for a warm bite to eat and to see what the Paleface brothers offered in the way of trade.

Little did the Wyandots guess as they drew near the cabin, however, the flurry their presence caused inside. A mere whisper from John awakened Ree. In a twinkling the latter sent Jerome climbing into the loft "like a scared rabbit into its hole," as he afterward expressed it, and pulling the little ladder up after him.

Kingdom greeted the visitors in his pleasantest manner. They spread their hands before the bright blaze in the big fireplace, and ate heartily of the meat he set before them. Nevertheless, when the strangers showed a disposition to look about rather more closely than seemed natural, even standing on tip-toe to peer into the loft, the lad grew decidedly uneasy.

As for John, he watched through a crack all that went on below with a great deal of interest, indeed. He was scarcely more than a foot above the heads of the taller Indians. The least sound from his direction would reach them and excite their suspicion.

Would the Wyandots never go?

Before they had been five minutes in the cabin Ree was wondering why they lingered so. Every second was magnified sixtyfold as he watched and waited, doing his best to appear perfectly at ease.

"Much skins up here," one swarthy young fellow with a single black and red feather in his hair remarked, and with his foot on a stool climbed partially into the loft.

"Oh, not many-you come down now, brother! You'll bring poles and all down on our heads," Ree answered, and quickly drawing the Wyandot down, placed the stool in a place where it would not be so readily available for such use again.

"Have the Wyandots any salt to trade for knives or cloth or anything else we have for them?" asked Kingdom, hoping to obtain information which might be valuable.

"No salt; Injuns got no salt. Paleface get big heap salt at big 'lick,'" answered the leader of the band. "Paleface over yonder-him have salt. Him trade, maybe."

"Where? Where over yonder do you mean?" Kingdom inquired, pretending to be little interested.

"Over yonder-down river. Him have camp piece back from river, yonder."

"Just one man, is it!" Ree asked.

"Ugh! two-leben-four-cuss! Injun don't know!" the Wyandot returned, and seeing that the redskin suspected that he was being "pumped," Ree changed the subject as naturally as he could.

Every moment that the Wyandots tarried the boy feared their next words would be to ask where John was. All the Indians knew there were two of the white boys, and that they were usually together. Had these travelers learned of the charge of witchcraft against Little Paleface? Kingdom dared not turn their thoughts in that direction by any words pertaining to the subject, and he was glad enough to say goodbye to them, at last, even though on this point he had gleaned no information.

There was no need for Kingdom to tell what had been said and done by the visitors when, after they were well out of sight, John came clambering down from the loft.

"I'm getting awful tired of being a witch, Ree," the latter began, peeping out of a loophole. "What in the world's the use of our staying here and living this way? I'm not complaining, old boy, you know I'm not; but this sort of thing is likely to last all winter. You can't find out how Big Buffalo was killed, and until you know, every mother's son of those Delawares swallow all that Lone-Elk tells them. So how's it going to end? Am I to jump and run like a whipped pup, all winter, every time we hear a noise?"

"Just you wait, my son," Kingdom answered, quite gaily. "We know that the Seneca's hold on Captain Pipe is his secret lead mine. Suppose we find that mine! Mr. Pipe will be glad to find out where it is. There! Now you see what I mean. You're just feeling a little cross because you had to stay out of sight. But here's another thing, John. We agree that we don't intend to let any one Indian chase us away from here; but we have some business on hand besides that. We've got to find out, if we can, who killed those men at the salt springs. With all the reason we have for believing that the murderers are camped out just about under our very noses, we're bound to look after them, especially if they're white men, and-well, you heard what the Wyandots said just two minutes ago. Don't you think, either, John," the older lad concluded very soberly, "that I don't see the danger we are in. I see it big and strong all around us; but we've gone too far to turn back unless we have to. If we can come out ahead of Lone-Elk just once, there will be no danger of his ever troubling us again. Pipe and all the Delawares will be our solid friends for all time. We don't want to sacrifice all we have done here and the good start we've made, do we, John?"

Ree's last sentence was an appeal. Jerome might have argued against every other point, but not against that. "We'll stay here till water runs up hill, Ree, before we'll budge an inch except we want to," he declared with quiet emphasis. "So what are we going to do next?" he added.

"Wait till the snow's gone," Ree answered cheerily. "It's thawing fast now and by afternoon we can hunt up that camp where I saw the salt spread out. Until then we will have to watch out that Lone-Elk doesn't come prowling around again."

"Good thing it's all we have to do. It's enough to keep one man busy," John returned, and undoubtedly he was right; but nevertheless their labor was for nothing this time. The Seneca was not discovered, nor was there a single visitor to the neighborhood of the clearing.

Kingdom's prediction that the snow would soon be gone was quickly verified; for the wind having changed to the southwest, a rain came up by noon which completed the work of the sun very quickly.

Call to mind the most gloomy, misty, wet and altogether disagreeable fall day you can remember, and you will have a fair idea of the sort of afternoon on which John Jerome and Return Kingdom tramped cautiously through the woods in search of the camp of the suspected salt spring murderers. The gloom in the thicker portions of the forest was little short of actual darkness and the mist or fog became so dense, as time went on, that objects were indistinguishable at a distance of more than a few yards.

The secret nature of their expedition and Kingdom's oft expressed belief that the camp they sought was occupied by British traders, or even soldiers from about Detroit, caused both the boys to feel a great deal of importance attaching to their undertaking. Just what they expected to discover, however, or what they intended saying regarding the purpose of their visit, in case they found the birds in their nest, neither of the two could very well have told.

Time and its developments answer many questions and so were the questions confronting Ree and John disposed of a little later. Kingdom had little difficulty in leading the way to the camp he had so strangely discovered. His familiarity with the woods for miles around would have made any spot in the vicinity of the cabin easily located.

Favored by the mist and semi-darkness, the two boys readily approached very near to the edge of the little bluff from which they could look down upon the camp without danger of their presence being discovered. Then on hands and knees they went forward more cautiously.

The birds, were gone. The nest was there, just as Ree had seen it, except that the salt had been taken away; but the camp was unoccupied and the ruins of the campfire were cold and water-soaked.

With much curiosity the two young detectives inspected the deserted camp and its surroundings. Nothing could they find to indicate who its makers had been or whither they had gone. In vain did they examine the ground within a radius of several yards from the heap of dead ashes. They discovered not so much, as a footprint.

Compelled at last to give up their search in disappointment, the boys were about to climb out of the protected nook the bluff formed on three sides of the camp, when John observed a small pile of wood such as would be gathered for a campfire in the forest. It was partially covered with leaves and being a rod or two from the site of the camp had not sooner been noticed.

"It may mean that they're coming back and it may not," the lad remarked. As he spoke he saw Kingdom pick up something a few feet away and quietly put it in his pocket.

"At any rate they're gone," Ree answered. "We may as well go, too."

The boys climbed the ascent to the higher ground without further comment. When they had gone some distance John asked: "What was it that you found, Ree? I thought I saw you pick something up."

"What do you think, John? It was a glove, the mate to that other one. What do you think of that?" was the low but earnest answer.

And while the boys hurried quietly through the woods, there emerged from a small cave, screened from view by sumac and other bushes, in the little ravine, a roughly dressed man who climbed the bluff and gazed after them.

CHAPTER XV-THE GIFT OF WHITE WAMPUM

The effect on the minds of the boys of the discovery Kingdom had made was much the same as if they had seen a ghost. A vague fear of something unexpressed and unknown took possession of them and they hastened through the misty, sodden forest as though expecting every minute to be pursued. Kingdom remarked about their apprehensiveness.

"We act like a couple of thieves," he declared, "the way we are hurrying to get away! But suppose we were seen hunting around that camp and it was noticed that I picked up this glove; it wouldn't be exactly healthy for us, I suppose? Still, it's not that that makes us both nervous and fidgety as a fox in a trap; but what is it?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm thinking of those two dead men under the brush pile; just can't help it;" said John. "The man that wore those gloves knows how the bodies came there, I'll bet a buckskin!"

"Of course," was the answer, "but that's just what I have suspected all along. The deuce of it now is to know what we're going to do about it."

The darkness was coming on most rapidly. The dark, gray clouds seemed to settle down to the very ground. In half an hour it would be quite impossible to find one's way safely through the woods, for not a breath of wind was stirring; there would be absolutely nothing by which to be guided.

Seeing the importance of quickly reaching the neighborhood of the clearing, Kingdom proposed that John seek shelter for the night in the old whitewood while he continued on to the cabin. They would meet again soon after daybreak in the morning.

Having had some such plan in mind when setting out from home, the boys had blankets and provisions with them, and Jerome readily agreed to Ree's suggestion.

As the hollow poplar was now not far away, they parted company at once. Kingdom promised to leave the cabin before daylight again, if he could do so without discovery, and to meet John at the whitewood for another visit to the camp in the gully.

"And you wait for me, whatever happens," Kingdom said in admonition. "I'll be worrying all night if I think you're prowling around by yourself."

"Worry fiddlesticks!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the younger lad, with a laugh. "What if I were to be worried about you?"

So the good-byes were said and ten minutes later John was snugly settled in the protecting trunk of the big hollow tree, glad enough to rest after his long tramp.

Kingdom, meanwhile, was hurrying on at increased speed. He aimed to travel in a sort of semicircle so as to approach the cabin from a direction which would give no clue to the locality from which he had come. He had little doubt that Lone-Elk would be watching for him. Indeed, it was only the great probability that the Seneca would be prowling about the vicinity of the clearing that had made it seem necessary that he return home instead of spending the night with John. The boys wished to keep the Indian in ignorance of the fact that the "witch" was in the neighborhood at all. If they could succeed in this for a time, the redskins, Lone-Elk particularly, would conclude at last that search for the missing boy was useless.

The complete darkness, the thick, cold mist and utter silence which pervaded the clearing and made it seem certainly the most desolate place in the world as he entered it, would have depressed and frightened bolder hearts than Kingdom's. He hurried up the familiar path, and ascended the slope to the little log house with dread. A whinny came from the stable. What a welcome sound it was! And when, five minutes later, the blaze in the big fireplace was dispelling the shadows, it seemed also to dispel the dreadful feeling of vague fear and homesickness from Ree's mind. He was himself again.

Worn out with much work and little rest for two days, Kingdom retired early. He knew that the dispirited condition, which sapped his courage and destroyed his peace of mind and self-confidence, was due to his being completely tired out, and that sleep would make all the next day's problems seem easy by putting him in shape to meet them. And so thinking he fell asleep.

It was near midnight, Kingdom thought, though really much earlier, when he was awakened. Some one rapped at the door,-quietly, secretly. Again he heard it,-thump, thump!-two short, quick taps, sounding as if made with finger tips.

"John!" was Ree's first thought; and he was out of his bunk in a second.

"Who is it?" he asked in a low tone, before opening the door.

"Fishing Bird has something to tell white brother," came the answer in tones so guarded, that, filled with wonder and anxiety, Kingdom unbarred and opened the door in a trice.

Instantly the Indian entered and Ree closed the door again. He felt, rather than saw, that the redskin was bedraggled, wet, cold and weary. He drew the visitor to the fireplace and sat him down. Though covered with ashes, the warm bed of coals gave off a comfortable degree of heat, and while the Indian leaned over the warm hearth, his host, still wondering, brought him meat and a dish of hominy.

Fishing Bird ate heartily. As he was doing so, a tiny flame, which for a second blazed up above the ashes, showed that his condition was even worse than Ree had pictured it. From the soles of his worn-out moccasins to the top of the uncombed hair falling in coa.r.s.e, untidy strings about his ears and down his back, he was very wet and very dirty.

"What news, Fishing Bird?" Ree asked, when he had dressed and the visitor had eaten all he wished. "I've been wanting to see you for many days."

"Ugh! Lone-Elk very bad!" the Indian replied, meditatively. "Fishing Bird watch him all day, watch him in the night, too. He goes many places, and don't go nowhere."

Kingdom repressed a smile. He guessed at once that his friend had been trying to follow the Seneca to the secret lead mine, and had only his labor to show for it. A moment later the Indian confirmed this supposition.

"Lone-Elk gone all day long and comes to the Delaware village in the night," Fishing Bird went on. "Lone-Elk brings no lead. Next morning-today-Lone-Elk goes again and Fishing Bird follows behind. Maybe Lone-Elk be going to where lead is; maybe going to watch young Palefaces. But him walk, walk, walk, all the time going on and on and never getting anywhere at all. Never looking back; never knowing Fishing Bird comes on behind, so Lone-Elk went here, went there, all day. Night came and in the dark Lone-Elk got away and Fishing Bird couldn't watch him any more."

"Maybe he was hunting for Little Paleface," Kingdom suggested.

"Lone-Elk bad-a mean, bad Seneca Indian!" the weary and disgusted Delaware made answer. "Now Fishing Bird will tell news he came for. White Fox knows how Lone-Elk found tomahawk in the corn-how Lone-Elk told that it was the witch's hatchet-same hatchet that killed Big Buffalo. So Lone-Elk hangs the tomahawk at the door of his lodge and says with that hatchet he will kill the witch that killed the Delaware warrior. One time, two times, three times, did tomahawk fall down when Lone-Elk had hung it up. One time Lone-Elk a little mad. Two times Lone-Elk pretty mad. Three times, when hatchet fall down, Lone-Elk heap much mad.

"Neoliaw tell Lone-Elk not to hang tomahawk up like that any more. Neoliaw knows much. No Delaware knows all things like Neoliaw; yet Lone-Elk holds his head high and asks if Neoliaw thinks the Seneca is but a squaw to be frightened by such talk."

The Indian paused. Much interested, Kingdom waited with impatience for him to continue, but at length asked: "And what did the medicine-man of the Delawares say to that? What did Neohaw say?"

"Neohaw tell Lone-Elk never mind. Some day tomahawk have more blood on it than now. Maybe it be Seneca blood."

"Do the Delawares still believe all that Lone-Elk tells them about how Big Buffalo was killed by a witch, and believe that the witch was our friend, John?" Kingdom inquired.

Fishing Bird nodded. "White brother shall hear more," he said, a moment later, as if having decided to reveal something he had at first thought he would not tell. "Listen, White Fox. Lone-Elk knows where lead is. Lone-Elk is a mighty warrior. Hopocon, that you call Captain Pipe, wants Lone-Elk in the fighting that will come bime-by, and wants lead for Delawares, Chippewas, Wyandots,-all the Indians that will be in the fighting off yonder," waving his hand toward the west and north. "So Hopocon sends white wampum as presents to the Seneca tribe for squaw of the warrior Lone-Elk killed. Because Lone-Elk killed a warrior, White Fox knows, he can go back never to his own people. Only if the presents, sent by Hopocon, are taken by the squaw of the warrior that was killed, will Lone-Elk be free to go here, go there, like other Indians. Then Hopocon will make him a Delaware."

Ree did not know until now the history of the outcast Seneca. He had known that Lone-Elk was a fugitive, but never before more than suspected the reason. In a general way he understood the Indian custom that if the nearest relative of one who was murdered received and accepted from the murderer or his friends a present in token of regret and sorrow-usually white wampum-it meant that the crime was forgiven and fully wiped out.

He knew, also, that if such a present was refused by the relatives or friends of the dead, that it meant but one thing-that at the first opportunity they would have their revenge by taking the life of the murderer. The custom had prevailed among the Iroquois and many of the other Indians for generations. It was implicitly followed.

The refusal of the peace offering usually meant eternal unforgiveness. It meant the exile of the murderer from his own tribe and the villages of his fathers forever. It meant death whenever one or more of the friends of the person killed started out to seek vengeance,-death swift and certain-unless the murderer succeeded in escaping them; but, once on the trail, the avengers knew no pause, no rest, no hardship too great to be undertaken, until their mission was accomplished.

Instantly realizing the great importance of Fishing Bird's information, Ree asked him to go on and tell more of the Seneca's history.

The friendly Delaware, however, seemed to believe that he had told enough. Maybe he regretted that he had already been so confidential. He sought to speak of other things, therefore, until Kingdom asked point blank: "Will the friends of the one whom Lone-Elk killed be likely to accept the presents that have been sent, Fishing Bird?"

The Delaware nodded decidedly in the affirmative at first, then shook his head. He didn't know and couldn't guess, he stated, what view the dead man's relatives would take of the matter. It was the usual thing to receive such presents and grant forgiveness. A great deal depended on the nature of the crime, and the details of the murder Lone-Elk had committed, Fishing Bird did not know, or if he did, he pretended ignorance.

He believed the Seneca had struck another down with a tomahawk, and had afterward hidden the hatchet near the Delaware town to which he had originally escaped, and whither he had again come after the battle with St. Clair's army. At least that was the story the squaws had whispered to one another. The warriors were too proud to take notice of such matters, especially since Lone-Elk, by his prowess, by his constant activity, and afterward by his knowing of the lead mine, had become a leader among them.

All this information Fishing Bird rather reluctantly imparted. He was very tired and just a little cross. In response to some further questioning he said, plainly showing his impatience: "Fishing Bird has told the white brothers they must not stay here. Still it has done no good. Fishing Bird is the friend of the two young Palefaces, yet they must not ask of him what no Delaware can do."

"Come, Fishing Bird," Ree answered kindly, "we are not going to ask you to endanger yourself or any of your people on our account. We know and appreciate how much you have helped us, and but for one thing we would probably go away as you suggest. And now there is only one more question I want to ask you; then you must lie down and rest till morning. Does Fishing Bird know of any other Palefaces, besides White Fox and Little Paleface, who are in the woods here; any who have been getting salt somewhere?"

The Delaware had lost his s.p.u.n.ky feeling entirely when he answered. He did not, he said, know of any other white persons in the woods anywhere about. He was quite sure there was none; for the Indians were very watchful now, lest Paleface spies come among them, and would be quite sure to discover any white persons who came near.

A little later Ree spread a blanket and some skins upon the floor and urged Fishing Bird to lie down; but instead, the Indian rose to go, nor could he be prevailed upon to remain. Thinking that perhaps he wished to be back to the village before the Seneca returned, Kingdom reluctantly opened the door for him, and he went forth into the cold and darkness, and the thick, raw mist swallowed him up immediately.

CHAPTER XVI-A MIDNIGHT SUPPER

Seated on a bed of dry leaves in the snug shelter of the old whitewood, John Jerome ate his supper. Kingdom had made fresh corn bread and hominy and roasted a whole quarter of a deer during his otherwise enforced idleness a couple of days earlier, and all these things were very much to John's taste. He enjoyed his supper so much, indeed, and felt so strong and hearty after he had eaten and rested for a time, that he crept out from his retreat and stood upright among the bushes concealing the hiding place.

It lacked a little of being totally dark. Except for the dense fog, or mist, it would still be almost daylight, John thought, as he looked about him. He didn't feel like lying down to sleep at once. No, he wouldn't either. He would go out just a little way beyond the thicket and see if he could not discover some sign of a campfire down in the gully. That pile of wood which he and Ree had found was not there for nothing. It meant that the camp was not permanently abandoned. At any rate, he would see what he could see.

With some such reflections, by way of excusing himself for doing what Kingdom had told him not to do, John made his way cautiously and slowly toward the protected valley and the mysterious camp there hidden. No light of any kind shone in that direction, however, and he reasoned with himself that it was useless to go further. Still, he thought, there could be no harm and no danger either when veiled by such a mist in going clear up to the edge of the bluff.

Even while making excuses to himself John was edging stealthily onward. Soon the brink of the steep descent was just before him. He could not see into the valley but his familiarity with the trees and general lay of the land a.s.sured him that he had to go only a little farther to obtain a view of the mysterious camping place.

In his eagerness the venturesome young man was quite forgetful of danger. Making scarcely an effort to conceal himself, indeed, he was pushing steadily forward when suddenly he was recalled to a realization of his carelessness in a manner he long remembered.

With one foot on a fallen log, in the act of rising up to step quietly down on the other side, John unconsciously paused for an instant to get his balance. As he did so a scarcely audible sound of light but rapid footfalls greeted his ears, and the same moment there came into view the erect and muscular figure of the Seneca.

The Indian was hardly more than five yards distant. Even in the thick mist and semi-darkness he must have seen John immediately had he paused or so much as turned his head for an instant. Fortunately he did neither and in another second he was out of sight.

"The lead mine!" Jerome whispered, and immediately his imagination pictured some hidden cavern near, and the Indian in the midst of the treasure.

Intent on following the redskin, if possible, the foolhardy boy did not stop to reason or reflect. After Lone-Elk he went and with such speed that soon the savage was only a few paces before him. The Indian halted for a moment. Again brought to the use of his sounder judgment with a jerk, John Jerome stopped no less quickly. Whether some sound, or the prompting of some other of his keen senses had caused the Seneca to pause, the white boy could not determine. But when the Indian moved on, changing his course and heading more directly toward the river, the lad thought twice before he followed.

Could it be that Lone-Elk, well aware that he was being trailed, was only leading his pursuer on, suddenly to turn and kill him when the time and place were to his liking? The thought made John quite uncomfortable.

Then, boy-like, he thought of the lead mine again, thereby deliberately putting temptation before himself; and the next moment he was again in pursuit of the Indian. He heard the fellow now and then, some distance in advance, but did not catch sight of him. It was quite dark now. He must be careful or he would come quite up to the savage without discovering him.

Continuing cautiously, John had traversed nearly a quarter of a mile when he noticed that he no longer heard any sound of the Indian's movements. In vain he listened. The dark, mist-soaked forest was still as death. How in the world could the slippery redskin have disappeared so suddenly?

Afraid to go on lest he fall fairly into the Seneca's arms, hesitating to turn back, the mystified boy stood pondering.