“Where can Long Hair be?” whispered Tom to his mother.
“I cannot imagine,” she answered; “he left the cabin as I was telling you about the loss of the children through the treachery of Yellow Bank. His eyes glared while I was speaking, and there was a look on his face that I could not interpret. Do you suppose he is trusty?”
“Trusty!” echoed Tom; “why, mother, he perilled his life for us.”
“Yes, I know it, child; he is unlike any Indian I ever saw. But why did he leave so mysteriously?”
“I don’t know,” replied Tom. “Captain Manly tried to find him; he wished to present him to 227 General McElroy. He said he did not doubt that government would reward Long Hair for his services.”
“Well,” sighed his mother, shuddering as she spoke, “how different these Indians are from us! They come and go so noiselessly, and talk so little! But what is that?” she exclaimed, glancing back.
“What?” inquired Tom.
“Why, that light,”–pointing in the direction from which they came. And Tom saw against the dark woods, for a background, thick flying sparks from the cabin chimney made themselves visible for miles across the prairie.
A scout now rode up, to call the attention of the captain to the same appearance.
“I cannot comprehend it!” ejaculated that officer, putting his glass to his eyes. “It is clear that the cabin is not on fire. It seems to be occupied.” And, riding up to Mrs. Jones, he said, “Madam, can you tell me if there was any fuel in the fireplace when we left?”