“I’m sorry the chief can not go—”
“Why can not the chief go?” asked the Indian, within whose breast there had sprung up a desire to taste the precious fire-water of the renegade.
“Is he not watching the wigwam for his Wyandot brother Girty?”
“Can not the Shawnee chief go for the fire-water, and leave his Shawnee brother to watch the lodge?” asked the Indian.
Of course this was exactly what the shrewd renegade wished.
“My brother is as wise as the fox.”
The Indian bowed at the compliment.
“Will my Shawnee brother go for the fire-water and leave me to watch the lodge?”
“My brother speaks good. The chief will go,” and the Indian rose to his feet.
“The chief will find the corn-juice under a blanket near the door of the lodge.”