“The fellow seems to know all about us, and we can’t get away from him. It looks as though we’d been expected, by word from Venango. Ask him if he can guide us straight across country now, for the Forks of the Ohio.”
“We’d do better to strike out alone, more into the south, major,” Gist said. “Down this Beaver Creek, which will fetch us to the Ohio.”
“No,” said Washington, who was stubborn. “We lose time. I mean to cross at Shanopin’s-town of the Forks and get into country that we know, on that side. The Governor is waiting on me.”
The Indian acted very glad to show his brothers the way; and he had a hunting cabin, near water, in the east, where they all could stop for the night.
“Well,” remarked Gist, “we’re three and he’s one, but I don’t trust him. He’s too friendly.”
“It is not to my mind to show him we’re afraid of him,” answered Washington. “You may be mistaken in him. He speaks fair.”
“He has a bad heart,” suddenly said Robert. “Do not trust him, Washington. You can read his face.”
“See? Even the boy knows,” Gist laughed. “You have something to learn of Indians, yet, major. But we’ll try him out.”
The Indian put on snow shoes; and when he saw Washington limping and stumbling he stopped and took the pack.