The Indians could not dispute the words of Boone.
“What seeks the white chief in the village of the Shawnees?” asked Ke-ne-ha-ha.
“Guess, and maybe you’ll find out,” replied the captive coolly.
“The white-skin comes as a spy—a foe into the village of the Shawnee,” said the Indian.
“When did any of your nation, chief, ever come except as a spy or a foe to the houses of the whites?” asked Boone.
“Ugh! the white-skin has stolen the land of the red-man. Cheated him with lies. Ke-ne-ha-ha is a great warrior—he will take the scalps of the long-knives and burn their wigwams,” said the Indian, proudly.
“You’ll have to fight afore you accomplish that, Injun, I reckon,” replied Boone, whose coolness and courage astonished the red warriors.
“The white-skin shall die!” said the chief, fiercely.
“I reckon we’ve all got to die, sometime, Injun,” answered Boone, not in the least terrified by the threat.
“Let my warriors take the prisoner to the wigwam of Ke-ne-ha-ha,” said the chief.