Part 29 (2/2)
With the skill of a trained diplomat, with his perfect knowledge of the Indian character, Finley kept matters moving.
”It will delight the heart of the white hunter to meet Wa-on-mon, as they were to meet only yesterday, and I know it will make glad the heart of Wa-on-mon to meet the white hunter in the woods, where no one can see them. Shall I tell the white hunter that these are the words of Wa-on-mon?”
”They are Wa-on-mon's words; he will meet the white hunter.”
This was all well enough, and the negotiation was progressing satisfactorily; but the most delicate work yet remained to be done.
The arrangements for the encounter were yet to be completed, and, above all, the stake must be fixed, or, no matter what the issue, everything would come to naught.
”The white hunter and my brother, the great and mighty Wa-on-mon, cannot meet in the darkness of the wood, for when they meet they must see each others' faces.”
It was the first time the missionary had ventured to speak of the chieftain as his brother since he was angrily forbidden to do so. He made no objection in the present instance, though possibly it was due to his mental excitement that he did not notice it.
”They shall meet when the sun rises over the tree-tops; Wa-on-mon will be there and await the white hunter, if he does not run away.”
”The white hunter will not run away,” quietly remarked the missionary, refraining from making the stinging retort that rose to his lips; ”but my brother, the mighty Wa-on-mon, is wise, let him say how he and the white hunter shall meet, and the missionary will see that it is done.”
Before the chieftain could formulate a scheme, the shrewd Finley was ready with that which he had formed while crossing the river in the canoe.
”Let Wa-on-mon go to the rock that lies yonder,” he said, pointing up the stream, ”it is but a small way beyond this camp; the rock is only the size of a canoe, and it is hardly above the surface of the water; does my brother know it?”
”Wa-on-mon knows where his brother, the missionary, means,” replied the chieftain, thrilling the good man by the term used.
”Will he be there when the sun appears above the tree-tops?”
”Wa-on-mon will be there, armed only with his knife.”
”It shall be the same with the white hunter.”
But the sagacious Panther saw the difficulties that still confronted them. His ”brother” had clinched the confidence the chieftain held in him by his selection of the battle-ground for the Kentucky side of the Ohio, not far from the Shawanoe camp. This reduced, as far as possible, the chances of treachery by the white men, and conceded a most important point to those with whom treachery has always been a cardinal virtue.
”The missionary will see that the white hunter is by the rocks when it begins to grow light in the east.”
”Then what will the missionary do?”
”He will come back to the camp of Wa-on-mon and await his return.”
Had he expressed his wishes he would have added the words, ”hoping he will never come back again,” but he was too wise to say anything of that nature.
”Wa-on-mon will not keep him waiting long,” was the confident declaration of the Shawanoe.
”And when he returns?”
”Then my brother, the missionary, shall go free.”
”And the little one asleep there?”
”She dies.”
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