Part 31 (1/2)

”I don't understand you, parson.”

”Perhaps it is better that I shall not attempt to explain, but, if possible, remember my words.”

”I think that to make sartin there's no slip on my part, I'll go to the rock now.”

”I'll go with you.”

It was a brief walk to the place fixed upon for the meeting, and both were so familiar with the ground, or rather the sh.o.r.e of the river (for it has been explained that the missionary knew little about Rattlesnake Gulch itself), that it required only a few minutes for them to proceed directly to the place.

”I'll leave you here and return to Wa-on-mon,” said Finley; ”G.o.d be with you, and, if you can, remember what I said just now.”

Kenton returned his salutation, and without further words they separated.

On his return to the Shawanoe camp the good man used extreme caution for a time, as though fearful of being detected by some of the warriors whom he was seeking. When certain at last that no human eye saw him, he knelt in the midst of the solemn wood, and poured out his soul in prayer to the only One who could aid him in his dire perplexity. He spent a long time alone and in communion with his Maker, and then, much strengthened in spirit, he pressed forward with the same openness as before, until once more he stood in the Shawanoe camp.

Little change had taken place during his absence. Instead of most of the warriors walking about all were seated--some sleeping, but the majority awake and talking with each other.

Little Mabel was still unconscious, but instead of reclining on the log she lay on the leaves close to the fallen tree, one chubby arm doubled under her cheek, her slumber as sweet and restful as if in her trundle-bed at home.

Since it was not reasonable to think the little one had made this change of position herself, it must have been done by one of the Shawanoes. An odd suspicion came to the missionary that it had been done by The Panther, but he deemed it unwise to inquire, so the truth was never known.

But nothing escaped the eye of Finley. He noticed the chieftain sitting apart talking with four warriors, and two of them were not in the camp when the missionary left it. They had come in while he was away. Most likely they were scouts that had been watching the movements of the pioneers on the other side of the river. It was fortunate if it was so, for they must have brought news that the fugitives had ceased any effort to reach the block-house, and were quietly waiting until the missionary or Kenton, or both, had returned with their tidings.

Finley endeavored to approach near enough to the group to catch something that was said, but the chief and his warriors were too cunning to permit this. Not wis.h.i.+ng to interrupt, he seated himself on the fallen tree to wait until Wa-on-mon was ready to talk to him.

The chief did not keep him waiting. Leaving the warriors, he came over and sat down beside him, the moccasins of the savage so close to the curly head that a motion of a few inches would have touched it with his toe.

The Panther did not glance at the little sleeper, and it would be unwarrantable to suppose that any feeling akin to pity glowed within that sinister breast, which burned and seethed with a quenchless hatred of the people that were trying to drive the red men from their hunting grounds. Nevertheless, Missionary Finley clung to the belief that it was Wa-on-mon that had lifted the child from her hard seat on the log and deposited her so gently upon the leaves that her slumber was not disturbed.

”Has my brother seen the white hunter?” asked Wa-on-mon, speaking in a much lower tone than was used in the former interview.

”He parted with him a short time ago.”

”Is his heart glad that Wa-on-mon will meet him?”

”His heart flows with joy,” replied Finley, with deep depression that such should be the truth, over the prospect of so shocking an event.

”He will not run away?”

”Did he do so yesterday?” was the stinging question of the missionary, which struck the Shawanoe hard; ”he is so afraid he will not be at the rock in time that he has gone there to await the coming of Wa-on-mon; he is there now; Wa-on-mon will find him when he goes thither.”

”Wa-on-mon will be there when the sun rises from its bed; he will not keep the white hunter waiting.”

”And the pale-faces that have crossed to the other side of the river will tarry there till the missionary returns to them.”

”My brother speaks with a single tongue,” remarked The Panther, thereby uttering another strong tribute to the integrity of his visitor.

”Does he not always speak with a single tongue?” asked Finley, feeling warranted in pus.h.i.+ng the chieftain, now that the all-important question had been settled.

”He does,” was the prompt response of the fiery sachem, who thereby plumply contradicted what he had said a short time before.