“I believe we ought to help them if we can,” whispered Dave, as the Indian who had held the paddle dropped in a heap on the seat. “I don’t believe they could harm us, no matter how they tried.”
After some hesitation Henry agreed, and guns in hand the pair stepped from the shelter of the bushes and walked down to the spot where the canoe had grounded.
“Hullo, redskins!” called out Henry. “What brings you here?”
At the sound of the young soldier’s voice the Indian on the seat stirred feebly. Then as he caught sight of the two on the shore he uttered a faint cry.
“English soldiers!” he murmured in his native tongue.
“I say, what brings you here?” repeated Henry.
“How?” muttered the red man in return, and tried to brace himself up. “Blue Crow much hurt. Got fire-water?”
“No, we haven’t any fire-water,” answered Dave. “How did you get hurt?”
“French soldiers shoot Blue Crow and Yellow Nose,” answered the Indian, with an effort. “Good English help um, yes?”
“Perhaps,” said Henry. “Where did you have the fight?”