The young Shawanoe, as a matter of course, was the director of all the movements of the little party, and he now said that it was best to leave the spot and spend the night somewhere else. The Indian to whom they had given such a scare might steal back, when he judged the three were asleep and take revenge.
"He hasn't any gun," remarked Jack, who had picked up his own weapon which the other left behind him, "so he can't shoot us."
"He has a tomahawk and knife—them he would use, though he had a rifle as good as Hay-uta's."
"How was it, Deerfoot, that that Indian was roaming through the woods on this side of the river, without a gun?"
The Shawanoe shook his head to signify he did not know: it was, to say the least, a curious incident.
"I thought possibly he was a stranger to the war party across the river; he acted as though he was afraid they would see him."
"He is a Pawnee," observed Deerfoot, who had gained a view of him, "and is one of their best warriors."
"Why, then, should he act as he did? You must have some explanation even though you can't be sure."
"He was a passionate warrior; he may not have been right there," said Deerfoot, touching his finger to his forehead; "perhaps he was so evil the Great Spirit placed darkness where there was light."
"But when an Indian is unfortunate enough to be unbalanced in mind, the others become more kind to him than before; he would have no need to be afraid of them."