"Well, what do you want?" asked the victim, showing a disposition to argue the matter.
"Want your scalp! Come up—hand it to me."
This was more than flesh and blood could stand. With a howl of terror the settler whirled around and dashed into the depths of the forest, never pausing long enough to notice that the voice which addressed such terrifying words to him was that of Lena-Wingo, the Mohawk.
CHAPTER X.
ON THE RIVER.
After the unceremonious flight of Mr. Perkins, the whites gathered around the Mohawk and expressed a fear that their little joke had resulted in the loss of the boat which the frightened settler was about to place in their possession. But the Indian assured them there was no loss on that account, as he knew the precise point where, if there was any boat within reach, it would be found. He proved the truth of what he said by leading them to the shore of the river, where, sure enough, the very thing for which they were looking was discovered.
"I feel like forgiving Ike for all those tremendous yarns he told us," said Clinton, when the prize was found.
"Well, I don't think he has suffered any harm beyond a good scaring, which he deserved," added Rosa, who enjoyed the discomfiture of the settler as much as did the Mohawk himself.