The driver paid no attention to the call. His companion on the box, however, leaned out. “Go to h—l, you old grand-daddy long legs,” he yelled.
The old hunter’s leathery cheek reddened. But before he could retort a horseman appeared in the road in front of the wagon and threw up his hand.
“Hold on, boys,” he called. “Hold on! I want to speak to you.”
The driver hesitated; then, compelled by something in the eyes of the man, he sulkily reined in. As he did so Jack and the little crowd about him moved over to the wagon.
“I’m Tom Rich, deputy of Colonel Johnson, the Indian agent up here,” the horseman was explaining, peaceably. “Colonel Johnson’s away just now and I’ve got to see everybody that goes north to trade with the Injuns.”
“We ain’t going to trade with no Injuns,” said the man who appeared to be the leader. “We’re taking supplies to Fort Wayne for the Government. I reckon you ain’t got no call to stop us.”
“Not a bit of it, boys. Not a bit of it. Just let me see your papers and you can go right along.”
The man sought in his pockets and finally extracted a paper which he passed to Rich, who scanned it carefully. “Your name’s David Wolf, is it?” he questioned, “and your friend’s name is Henry Williams?”
“That’s right and we ain’t got no time to waste. There ain’t no tellin’ when war’ll be declared an’——”
“No! There’s no telling. You can go along if you want to, but I’ve got to warn you—warn all of you.” Rich’s eye swept the group. “We got news this morning that there was a big council at Wapakoneta last night. There was a British officer there in uniform and he and Tecumseh tried to get the Shawnees to go north. Black Hoof (Catahecasa) stood out against them, and our news is that less than two hundred braves went. Still, there’s no telling, and the country’s dangerous. Colonel Johnson’s at Wapakoneta now. Better wait till he gets back.”