“I hide,” said Peter.

“Where?”

Peter pointed.

“Who brought you here?”

“I come. Night. Swim down river. Hide.” For Peter had no notion of telling on Patrick Gass and George Shannon.

“Humph! You did!” And the chief with the red hair grunted. “Ran away, eh? Who was your chief?”

“We-ah-rush-hah. First Osage, then Oto, but me white.”

“Where’s your mother?”

Peter shook his head.

“Where’s your father?”