“Listen, White Fox, listen, my Paleface brother,” said Fishing Bird softly as he took Kingdom’s hand and drew him gently into the barn; then dropping his voice to a whisper:

“Lone-Elk has been here. All night did Fishing Bird watch and follow him. Then Fishing Bird hid here for maybe Lone-Elk be coming back when white brother still was sleeping. Morning comes now. No more danger.”

How to thank this friendly Indian Ree did not know. As he realized the hardship Fishing Bird had undergone to guard him from the wily, crafty Seneca, his voice trembled with emotion in trying to express his gratitude. Almost in the same breath he begged further information and an explanation of Lone-Elk’s presence; asked to know how, in the darkness, the Delaware had been able to watch him without being himself discovered. Where had Lone-Elk gone? Why had he come at all?

Seated on a little mound of hay, well within the stable yet where he could readily see out, and dividing his attention between the clearing and Kingdom, who sat beside him, Fishing Bird told his story.

He had feared from the beginning that his warning to the two white boys to flee would be unheeded, he said, and so determined, since he could give them no assistance, that he would at least keep his eyes on Lone-Elk. The Delawares had accepted the proposal of the Seneca that the death of Big Buffalo be not allowed to break up the Harvest Festival entirely, and so the night of the feast day had been spent in merry-making, as the custom was.

With but little rest the morning after the festival, however, Fishing Bird went on in his own simple but honest way. Lone-Elk, calling on as many as wished to do so to accompany him, had set out for the house of the Palefaces. It was his purpose first to locate Little Paleface and catch him off his guard, lest by witchcraft he should bring harm to the Indians before they could lay hands on him, Fishing Bird explained. So all day the Indians had watched the cabin and kept themselves hidden so that they would not easily be seen even if in approaching their home the boys should come upon them suddenly from behind.

Lone-Elk told the Delawares that a crow, which flew down in the cornfield, was almost certainly Little Paleface himself, and as night came on he assured them that the witch would either be found in the cabin in the natural form of a man or be caught trying to escape in the form of a bird.

Some had asked why the witch would not simply become an animal or a cloud or some such thing and so easily evade them, but the Seneca’s only answer to this was a growl at their ignorance and a hint that only children asked such questions.

Much that Fishing Bird told him was so nearly the same as Kingdom had previously guessed that the information was in no way surprising. But one thing which did surprise and interest him a great deal was the friendly Delaware’s account of the escape of John Jerome.

Fishing Bird, having no belief in Lone-Elk’s talk of witchcraft and being anxious to aid in the escape, rather than the capture of the so-called witch, was even more intent in watching all that went on than were any of the others, Lone-Elk excepted. In this way he accounted for his discovery of some object beside the river bank in the darkness as he and two other Delawares were paddling noiselessly toward the cabin—an object which he partially recognized, though none of the others so much as suspected its presence. Solely for the purpose of giving warning he had made sounds which would be heard and which, he was certain, had been heeded.

Ree could only thank his loyal friend again and again and he did not hesitate to tell the faithful fellow that he had almost certainly saved John Jerome from capture. This pleased Fishing Bird greatly. His pleasure was quite equal to that of a child which is praised for some duty well done.

“In fact,” added Kingdom, putting his hand gratefully on the Delaware’s arm, “we can never begin to pay you back for all you have done for us. But still you can help us so much more that I want to feel that I can depend on you. I won’t ask anything of you which is going to get you into trouble, and if I do, you must tell me. Neither do I want you to do anything or tell me anything which you do not feel that you can willingly do or tell. Is this fair and friendly, Fishing Bird?”

The Indian thoughtfully nodded.

“First then, why did Lone-Elk come back here in the night?”

The Delaware did not know and said so.

“I can guess that, anyhow,” Kingdom went on. “But here’s a more important question, Fishing Bird. Who, or what, do you think, killed Big Buffalo?”

The Indian shook his head. Kingdom scarcely knew whether he meant that he did not know or that he did not wish to tell. But he tried another question.

“Was it Lone-Elk?”

For a second or two there was no reply. “Yes, maybe Lone-Elk killed Big Buffalo,” came the answer, but the tone even more than the words expressed doubt.

“Well, can you tell me this, Fishing Bird: What is the secret of the Seneca’s power among the Delawares and why is he a wanderer and an outcast from his own nation and his own tribe? We all know that he is a sort of a fugitive, yet even Captain Pipe allows him the greatest liberty.”

“Listen,” said the Indian slowly and solemnly, “Paleface brothers must see always that no hurt comes to Lone-Elk, the Seneca. Yes, Lone-Elk is hated and Lone-Elk is hunted by his own people; but listen, White Fox, listen to this: Lone-Elk and no other knows where much lead for bullets is hidden in the ground. To Captain Pipe and to all the Delawares Lone-Elk brings lead—sometimes bullets, too—always lead. No, no! Lone-Elk will never show where lead comes from, so must no hurt come to him. Anything Paleface brother asks will Fishing Bird do, but if Lone-Elk dies who will know where lead is found! Lead placed in the ground by the Great Spirit for his children, the Delawares; for that is as Lone-Elk tells them.”

Kingdom could not help smiling slightly at the simple earnestness of the Indian, but he was interested, too, greatly interested. Once or twice before he had heard Delawares make secret references to the finding of lead in the earth somewhere in the locality of the Cuyahoga river. Now he was convinced that a mine existed, the location of which was known only to the scheming Seneca.

“So that is why Captain Pipe harbors the fellow though he knows that his history is so bad,” spoke Kingdom, partly to the Indian, partly to himself.

“White Fox knows how all the Indians look always now for much powder—much lead,” the Delaware returned. He was thinking of the trouble along the border and the fighting which was sure to follow the march of “Mad Anthony” Wayne’s army into the Indian country to avenge the killing of so many of St. Clair’s men the year before.

Kingdom read Fishing Bird’s meaning easily as print, though never until now had he realized how fully the redskins were planning for the expected battle, nor guessed how completely posted they were concerning the probable object of the troops Wayne was assembling on the Ohio below Fort Pitt.

“But you followed the Seneca, Fishing Bird. You watched him nearly all night, you say. Tell me, then, if Lone-Elk must not be harmed, what can you do, what am I to do if he makes trouble? Are we to let him drive Little Paleface from home—and me too? For of course if my friend cannot be with me, I shall not wish to stay here.”

The friendly Delaware shrugged his shoulders and looked puzzled. Glancing up, however, and seeing that Kingdom was waiting for him to answer, he slowly shook his head. “Maybe White Fox can find how Big Buffalo died. Maybe Palefaces can tell Captain Pipe that and then Lone-Elk can talk of witches no more.”

“Yes, but what if Lone-Elk kills somebody before somebody can do this?” Ree inquired.

“When Lone-Elk comes to do that then Lone-Elk must be killed,” Fishing Bird admitted rather reluctantly. But to show that he meant what he said, he now told at some length how he had followed the Seneca from the Delaware village all the way back to the cabin of the two white boys, when he found the crafty fellow stealing away after the return from the fruitless watch and search for John Jerome the preceding day and night. He left no room for doubt that he would have given Kingdom warning of the fellow’s presence if necessary; but Ree could not help but believe that his friend had also some other reason for spying upon Lone-Elk’s movements.

“This ‘talk’ I am to have with your people today,—will it do any good, Fishing Bird?” Kingdom at last inquired.

“All the Delawares ask how came Big Buffalo to die,” was the Indian’s only answer; and presently, though Kingdom asked him to remain, he slipped away, and wading the river at a place not usually used for crossing, quickly disappeared in the thick brush of the western bank.

In spite of the restless night he had spent and his weariness and anxiety, Ree made all possible haste with his breakfast and morning work in house and barn and hastened away to meet John Jerome. He must carry some provisions to him and let him know all that he had heard before starting for the Delaware town.

The distance to the place of meeting which the two boys had finally agreed upon was four miles or more, the spot a well hidden gully running back from the river until it lost itself in a dense growth of underbrush. From the midst of this matted mass there sprang up a great hollow whitewood tree with a large opening at the base. The lads had once hidden some traps there and knew the place well. In this natural shelter they would be quite free from possible observation, and anything left there would be little likely to be found by straggling Indians hunting in the vicinity.

With much anxiety Kingdom approached the meeting place. The day had come on dull and cloudy but still and in the vast silence of the leaf-carpeted forest the moist air made his every footfall seemingly loud and heavy. Yet listen as he did, even holding his breath, Ree heard not a sound to indicate that he would find John waiting for him. This was the more surprising because of Jerome’s customary carelessness so far as being very quiet was concerned.

Even when he reached the thicket in which the old whitewood stood, Kingdom listened in vain for the slightest signal to indicate that his coming was expected. He had had no doubt John would be at the place long before he himself arrived. What else would he have to do save wait and watch?

“Covered his trail better than he usually does if he has been anywhere near here!” Ree ejaculated beneath his breath when, after making the entire circuit of the mass of underbrush, he found nothing. Heavy hearted, he sat down with his back to a large maple to wait.

Now what Kingdom should have done, of course, was to make his investigation thorough before he concluded that John had not come. Ordinarily he would have done so—would have gone to the bottom of the subject before he reached a final conclusion; but as many another has done before and since he let a peck of troubles become greater still by shouldering some with which he might much better not have burdened himself, taking for granted, as it were, that trouble was his portion.

It was and is a bad thing to do. The fact was that while Kingdom waited on and on, trying not to worry, but thinking very unhappy thoughts indeed, John Jerome, curled among some dry leaves in the base of the great hollow tree, snoozed as composedly as ever he did in his far away home in Connecticut.

Kingdom rose to his feet. Something must be done! He shook off his heavy thoughts and stood for a moment to consider. It was the movement of his rising, perhaps, that awakened John. He, also, rose to his feet. He heard soft footsteps among the leaves and peeped out. He heard them more plainly and hurried cautiously to a part of the thicket from which he could see beyond the brush. There was Kingdom marching away through the woods as if he were going somewhere and in a hurry to arrive.

A whistle which might have been the call of a squirrel sounded. It was a signal both boys used for each other in the woods, and in another instant the needless burden had rolled off Ree’s mind. What a sea of fresh difficulties must certainly have come to both of them but for the chance awakening of John, in the nick of time, the two boys did not long discuss.

“But you would have come into the tree to leave some grub for me, anyway, Ree,” said John.

“Hanged if I thought of such a thing!” Kingdom answered. “You don’t deserve it, nohow! Going to sleep and keeping me in such a stew about you!” he added good-naturedly.

The lads were both seated on the ground inside the protecting whitewood now, and John, having long since eaten the provisions with which he left home, was making good use of those Ree brought. He had, he declared, with venison in one hand and bread in the other, a more immoderate appetite than any well-behaved witch should ever have.

John’s friendly feeling for Fishing Bird was certainly not diminished by what Ree told him concerning the good turns the faithful Delaware had done both of them. He quickly verified the statement that he had been warned by the voice of Fishing Bird at the brink of the river the night before, though he had little suspected the source from which came the “Ughs” he heard.

More than all else, however, excepting Ree’s own personal safety at the cabin, was John interested in the hidden lead mine of which Lone-Elk alone possessed definite knowledge. He declared at once his intention of improving his time in exile by watching the woods for the Seneca and following him wherever he went.

“You’ll do nothing of the kind, my boy,” said Kingdom with playful affection, but yet very earnestly. “I more than half suspect that one reason Fishing Bird follows and watches Lone-Elk is the expectation that he will find out where the mine is. With two of you on the Seneca’s trail, it is altogether too certain that he will find you out. And, mark this good and seriously, John, there’s no doubt whatever but that Lone-Elk would rather scalp you than not. I don’t think for a minute, mind you, that he believes his own witch stories. But he means business in the whole bad mess he has made for us. I’m confident he will not bother me very much, but for all practical purposes he has full permission and authority to take your topknot the first chance he gets. It’s the witch law of pretty much all the Indians and of all the Iroquois. The Delawares have all the Iroquois customs from having been subject to them for so long, years ago. So we know what we will have to reckon with.”

Jerome was rather inclined to demur but Kingdom would not hear to arty plan but that he should remain carefully in hiding.

“Well, then, I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” John suggested, as a final effort to gain more freedom than Ree believed wise, “I’ll take two or three days to myself and make a pilgrimage to the ‘salt lick’ over by the Mahoning river. Oh, I’ll be wary! I’ll look sharp enough, don’t you fear!” he added, seeing what Ree was about to say.

And so it was agreed that while Kingdom undertook to clear up the mystery of the death of Big Buffalo, Jerome should keep himself occupied and out of sight by the journey he proposed. The plan, like many another plan, far more carefully deliberated upon, had, as events proved, a most important bearing on the future.

But no man can tell what the next day, aye, the next hour, the next minute, will bring forth, however much our every act is constantly shaping the unknown fate and future.