"Do you know who shot that Indian?" asked the Tory, in an undertone.
"I haven't the least idea."
"It was Fred Godfrey; he is somewhere near. The shot sounded out yonder"—pointing in the proper direction—"and, if you want to save your life, you must go out and bring him in."
"I'll do it," said McEwen, catching like a drowning man at a straw.
He turned about to start upon his strange errand, when Golcher commanded him to stop.
"How are you going to do it?"
"Catch him by the neck and heels, and drag him along."
"Don't you see the Senecas are starting off to hunt him up?"
It was true. The red men quickly recovered from the shock, and, knowing who fired the shot, were stealing off into the woods in search of the youth, who had given proof of his presence near them.
Almost every one was able to tell the point whence came the familiar bullet, and it will be understood that Fred Godfrey took his life in his hand when he interposed to save his father.