“The English have gone back,” said the Indian chief. “They lost many soldiers and would have lost more had it not been for Washington. He carries a charmed life and the enemy cannot kill him. They are safe on the retreat.”
“And what brings you here?”
“’Tis a strange thing—more strange since I have met you. I came to look for the white boy’s father.”
“My father?” ejaculated Dave. “Is he here?”
“I hoped to find him here. In the great battle I met Yellow Ear, who was once at the trading-post with your father. He is a dog of a Miami and I fell upon him and wounded him greatly. To save his life he told me of your father, who had been a prisoner at the fort. Your father had escaped and was in this wilderness. So White Buffalo came to look for him—and found his son.”
“In this wilderness! My father!” murmured Dave. “And have you found any trace of him yet?”
“White Buffalo has not.”
“Was he in the fight?”
“Who can tell that? White Buffalo will look for him—he can do no more.”
“And I will help look—if I can walk. Tell me, have you seen anything of Sam Barringford?”