“Your fadder, he ees—he ees——” said the wounded man, and that was as far as he could get. He gasped for breath, tried to sit up,—and a minute later all was over.
“He must have known something,” said Dave, to his uncle. “What was it?”
The planter shook his head. “Do not ask me, Dave,” he said, gently. “It is too bad! First your father, and now it may be Henry!” And he turned away to hide the tears that sprang into his eyes.
Dave could not content himself, and wandered idly from one part of the trading post to another. His father was continually in his mind. He missed his parent as he had never done before.
Suddenly as he walked along one of the men came running towards him.
“I say, Dave, have you seen that redskin that was wounded in the fight?” he called out. “The one your uncle shot?”
“No, I haven’t seen him.”
“He is gone—we can’t find him anywhere. We all thought he was dying, but it looks now as if he had gotten away,” went on the man.
He turned into the stable and then into a small compartment of the storehouse, where the powder for the post was usually kept. A moment later he came rushing into the open yelling wildly.
“The Injun’s in there!” he gasped. “He has got a torch and is going to set off all the powder and blow us sky-high!”