“Peter Bondie has ever been the friend of the red men,” he resumed. “He has taken a squaw from the Miami tribe. Metea is his friend. Metea is also the friend of Alagwa, the foster child of Tecumseh. Therefore he comes to warn him and her. His peoples’ tomahawks are up. The chief Winnemac leads them. Already they have slain the white men in the west. In two days they will be here. Their tomahawks will fall on the white men, and when they fall they will spare not. Therefore, let my brother and all that is his betake themselves to the south. All this land once belonged to the red men and it will belong to them again. No white man, brother though he be to the Indian, shall live in it. Let my brother take warning and begone; and”—he turned to Alagwa—“let my sister prepare to go to Yondotia. Such is the will of Tecumseh.”
The Bondies looked at each other; then they looked at Alagwa. The imminent loss of all that they had accumulated was a shock, but Metea’s words to Alagwa struck them dumb. Fantine, knowing what she did about the girl, had suspected that the tie between her and Tecumseh had not been entirely broken, but Peter was ignorant even of her sex, and its revelation took his breath away. Neither he nor Fantine guessed the purpose for which Alagwa had come into the American lines, nor in any case would they have greatly reprobated it, for their associations and sympathies were largely with the Indians. But the order to her to join Tecumseh was a bolt out of a clear sky. Curiously, questioningly, the two stared at her.
Alagwa, however, was not thinking of herself, but of Jack. His words that afternoon had cut her to the heart. But they had not freed her from her obligation to serve him. She loved him and with her to love was to give all, without question of return. Not even at the command of Tecumseh, would she leave him. Yet she could not defy the will of the great chief. She must gain time to think and to plan.
She looked up and saw Metea’s eyes fixed on her.
“At dawn tomorrow my sister will be ready,” he said.
At dawn! Alagwa’s heart stood still. She would have time neither to think nor to plan. Desperately she cast about for some respite, however brief. “At dawn!” she echoed. “Why need I go so soon? Why need I go at all. Will not Tecumseh and the redcoats come here? It is only the Pottawatomies who will attack the fort?”
Metea paused a moment before replying. “The Pottawatomies are brave,” he said. “They will surround the fort, cutting off all help from the south. If a chance offers they will capture it. If not, they will wait. In one moon their redcoat brothers will come with the big guns to batter down the walls. But my sister may not wait for them. Tecumseh commands her presence now and she must go. She will have fitting escort. Twenty of my men wait to attend her.”
Alagwa’s hope vanished. No way could she see out of the coil that bound her. “Did Tecumseh send no word about the young white chief?” she faltered, desperately.
Metea shrugged his shoulders. “The young white chief?” he echoed. “He who slew the Shawnee braves at Defiance? No, Tecumseh sent no word! Let the young chief stay where he is. Soon we will test his courage at the stake and see if he is a brave man or a coward.” Metea threw his blanket about his shoulders and turned to the door. Then he looked back. “At dawn!” he repeated. “Let my sister be ready.” He strode through the opening and disappeared.
Alagwa sprang to her feet. Her eyes flashed, her nostrils dilated, her lips curled back as they had curled when she faced Brito. “You shall not,” she shrieked to the empty door. “You shall not. Dog of a Pottawatomie, little do you know Alagwa. I will not leave him and he shall not die. I will save him yet.”