"Tecumseh has long arms, and I am dead if I fall into the hands of his men. What of that? Can he make a chief a dog? No. I will die as I have lived, a warrior true to our American father and his men."
The canoe was by this time in the midst of the current, floating slowly down, for they were not using the paddles.
"Push her up-stream, boys," said the Yankee. "Most of the devils is down below. They've got six canoes, and I guess thar ain't less than a hundred men in all. Cuss that Prophet! I wish I hed his skulp."
"It would gratify me immensely if you had," replied the young soldier. "And that scoundrel Willimack! There is no end to the benefits he has received from time to time from my father and myself; and yet, he would have killed us all to-night, if you had not foiled him."
"I will wear the scalp of Willimack in my girdle some day," said Dead Chief. "He is a dog. He cares nothing for either white man or Indian, if he can get blankets, powder and rifles. He has taken belts from both sides and hates them all. He talks with a forked tongue, like a snake. One tongue is for our white father at Vincennes, and the other for the red-coats. Tecumseh is a slave of Elliot, the red-coat agent."
Zip! Zip!
Two bullets cut through the air close to the canoe, one passing between the Indian and Floyd, and the other clipping a piece out of the stern, close to the immovable figure of Seth, who nodded smilingly.
"That means business," he said. "I knowed they'd hev somebody up here tew watch. They knowed we must go down-stream to git to Vincennes. Throw yourself, Dead Chief! Up-stream fer yure life."
The canoe seemed to leap into the air under the vigorous strokes of the Indian, and they quickly passed the point from which the shots had come.