This was the question Scarred Eagle asked himself. Moorooine had softly gained a position at his side, and was listening to the excited conversation going on but a little distance away.
“Good—very good!” she whispered, at length.
“What is it, gal?” inquired Scarred Eagle, anxiously.
“The canoe gone!” she answered, drawing a breath of relief.
“What canoe, Moorooine?”
“Mine. They s’pose we took an’ escaped!”
“Is that what they say—ar’ ye sure?”
“Yes; sure. We safe for more longer anyway. S’pose white friends safe too—all safe? Why s’pose White Fox safe?”
“I judge he is from what you told me an’ from what I noticed when I crept into the village. You said he got away but was drowned in the river.”
“Yes; seen ’im run—jump in, above the dark passage. Bad place—bad spirit lives there.”