A moment later the head of the canoe turned down-stream. It was then seen to be of considerable size. Five savages were seated within it. Oonomoo bent his head, took one earnest glance at them, and then said:
"Ain't Shawnees—Miamis."
"Friends or foes?"
"Jes' as bad—take scalp—kill white people—take your scalp—see you."
Lieutenant Canfield by no means felt at ease at the indifference with which his friend uttered these words. It certainly was no pleasant prospect—that of having these bloodthirsty Miamis for such near neighbors, and he expressed as much to Oonomoo.
"Won't come here—keep quiet—won't git hurt," replied the imperturbable Huron.
Considerably relieved at this assurance, he said no more, but watched the canoe. To his astonishment and dismay it again changed its course, and headed directly toward the rock in front of them. He looked at his companion, but his face was as immovable as a statue's and, determined not to show any childish fear, he maintained his place and said no more.
Reaching the outer end of the rock, the Miamis halted for a moment or two, when they turned down the river again, and landed about a hundred yards below where our two friends were standing. The latter waited for full half an hour, when, seeing and hearing nothing more of them, the Huron resolved to obtain his canoe, and continue their journey down the river.
"But where is it?" asked the soldier, when he announced his intention.
"Fastened out end of rock."