"That is several hours distant; in the meanwhile, the missionary would speak to Wa-on-mon of the child."
"What does he wish to say?"
"He has a prayer to make."
"What is the prayer?" asked the chief, well aware what it was.
"Wa-on-mon has two little ones, a warrior and a sweet girl. The missionary has played and talked with them and held them on his knee; does Wa-on-mon believe that the missionary would not risk his life to save them from harm?"
Finley paused, but there was no response. The way had been opened at last, and it was too late now to turn back. He must press forward to the final solution, no matter what that should prove to be, but all the signs were ominous of the worst.
The question was anything but pleasing to the chieftain. He was silent a minute, and replied by means of a pointed question himself:
"Is the child on the tree the child of the missionary?"
"No, but she is the daughter of a friend; she is not a warrior who fires a gun at the Shawanoes of Wa-on-mon; she has harmed none of them."
"But her parents did; to harm her will hurt them more than will a bullet fired from the gun of the chieftain; therefore, Wa-on-mon will kill her."