The owl said, "Answer me, answer me."
"Wait until the iron hand comes," replied Anthony with apparent secrecy in a very audible whisper, "then he will give bad medicine."
The owl laughed—yes—laughed!
Anthony hastily set his finger on his lips as a signal to the owl to be silent. The owl obeyed. Anthony pretended to pretend to go to sleep!
The dismayed chiefs laid their ruffled feathers together. They did not like the prospect of a visit from Tonty, who had more than once puzzled and defeated them. His bad medicine was bitter to their taste.
Without stopping to call a powwow they summoned all hands to arms. They released the Illinois prisoners and drove them out of camp. They roused Anthony and his chum and bade them leave.
"But we don't want to go," protested Anthony. "We like to wait with you."
The listening chiefs were overwrought. They dared not kill him, nor keep him, nor send him back. They set some sentries over him, not to prevent his escape, but to hold him so that he could not follow them! For they were now bent on running away before Tonty's hand should strike at them. Of armed force they were not afraid, but before black magic they fled in panic.
Break o' day saw them going over the horizon.