On a fallen tree he saw an Indian resting, with the carcass of the buck beside him. The warrior was Yellow Blanket, the red man who had called on Daniel Boone at the fort about a week before, bringing a message for Red Feather, which, however, had not, by Boone’s order, been delivered.
Yellow Blanket was alone, and was evidently getting ready to continue his journey. He had been carrying the buck across his shoulders, and his bow and arrows were slung over his breast so as not to interfere with his load.
By signs Joe gave Harry to understand that both should cover the red man with their guns, and this was done without delay. The two young pioneers leaped on the rocks and confronted the Indian.
Yellow Blanket had been in a contemplative mood, not dreaming that he would be thus quickly followed up. He started in amazement, and leaped to his feet.
“Raise your hands!” called out Joe, as one hand of the enemy went toward the tomahawk at his belt. “Raise ’em or I’ll fire!”
“And so will I fire!” added Harry.
The Indian understood very little English, but the truth of the situation was plain to him, and letting go of the tomahawk he spread out his arms wide, as if to show a friendly spirit. Then the youths came closer, each keeping the Indian still covered.
“So you thought you would run off with our meat, eh?” questioned Joe sharply.
The Indian looked blankly at them and shrugged his shoulders.
“Yellow Blanket cannot speak the tongue of the paleface,” he said in his own language.