“I fight the English,” said Guyasuta. “That big red-coat general does not know how to treat Indians. He sends for us, then he sends us away. He treats us like children, and so do his red-coat soldiers. I will not march around by his orders. But I do not fight Washington and Scarouady. They are my brothers. You can tell them so.”
“That is good, but how can I tell them?” answered Robert—with excellent reason.
“Yes,” said Guyasuta; “you ran off from here once and the Ottawa are mad. Now Shingis would make you his son. You are Delaware. You will have hard work to run off again. Wait and we will see.”
“I will wait till the English and the Long Knives come to take the fort; and that won’t be long,” replied Robert. “Then the French and their Indians will run, themselves.”
“Wah!” said Guyasuta. “Maybe. It is a great army, with big guns. I know, because I saw it; everybody knows. The council hasn’t decided what to do. There is another council tonight. The French are too few yet. The Indians ask the French captain how he expects their eight hundred men to whip four thousand with great guns. You must not try to run off. You had better wait. And I ask you not to tell that white boy that you have seen me. If I am known to be your friend then you will be shut up.”
“He goes with me,” said Robert, at once.
“Then you would be caught sure,” replied Guyasuta. “He is white, and he is too lame to run. Besides, he will be well treated. The Delaware keep him to adopt him, for they like him.”
Another council was held this night. The English army had been sighted nearer, and the excitement in the fort had increased. From the council room there sounded loud speeches, by the French and by the chiefs.
“What do you make of it, Rob?” Jim asked. “Is that war? You’re part Injun—you ought to know.”