Deerfoot was somewhat closer to them than to the others, for fortunately he found a partly decayed log, lying directly across his path, and he used this as a partial screen, though by doing so, he increased the difficulty of his withdrawal, should it suddenly become necessary.
The young Shawanoe had scarcely secured the position, when the warriors began talking in their own tongue, which was as familiar to Deerfoot as his own.
He was so close that he did not lose a single word of the conversation, which, as may be suspected, was of no little interest to himself.
"The pale-face is a brave youth, and he runs like Deerfoot, the son of the Shawanoe chieftain Allomaug."
"The Long Knives flee, when the Wyandots leave their villages and hunt for them."
"The Yenghese are not brave," said the third warrior, who had just fired his gun, and who used another term by which the Caucasian was distinguished from his copper-hued brother; "they run like the rabbits, when the hunter drives them from cover; they fled into the strong lodge, when they saw the shadow of Waughtauk coming from the north."
"They will hide behind the logs till their brothers along the Ohio can haste to help them," observed the first speaker, who seemed to be the pessimist of the party; "their lodge is strong, and the Wyandot braves cannot break it down."
Deerfoot, from his concealment, saw the painted face of the other warrior, as it was turned indignantly on the croaker.
"My brother talks like the squaw who thinks the voice of the wind, when it blows among the trees at night, is that of the panther and bear that are pushing their noses under her lodge to turn it over; has Arawa no heart, that he speaks so like a squaw that is ill?"
Arawa seemed to feel somewhat ashamed of himself and made no reply: he would doubtless have been glad if the drift of the conversation should change, but as his companions showed no eagerness to change it, he launched out boldly himself: