"If this is true, we are saved," said the trapper. "I have friends among that people, and know my way home from their hunting-grounds."
"Are you sure of what you tell us, Mahnewe?" asked Sidney; "for a mistake on this point might involve us all in destruction."
"Are not yonder the hills where my childhood's years were spent? Who can forget the home of their kindred, the place of their birth?"
"Sometimes hills in the distance bear a resemblance to others, which vanishes on a nearer approach," observed the trapper.
"Let Mahnewe go to her people, she fears not of finding strangers in their place," said she, in pleasing tones.
"A good idea, uncle, let her go and ascertain positively; but keep the child to prevent treachery," suggested Sidney.
"Mahnewe goes not without her child, if all our lives should depend on her going!" said the squaw, decidedly.
"But consider, Mahnewe, if they should not prove to be your people the child would only hinder your retreat, and if they should be, you can return and claim it in safety," said Howe.
"If my brother listens to the forked tongue of the Snake's squaw, she will guide the warriors of her people to our retreat, where we shall all be slaughtered," said the chief.
"I think not, chief; there is an air of sincerity about the squaw that dispels all thought of treachery in my mind; besides, she is under great obligations to us for saving her own and the child's life. The Indians are not ungrateful you know, chief, and I think we do her wrong to suspect her motives in wanting to go."