But at the last he rose to depart, and still fasting. With the solemnity of one who parted from her forever, he addressed the veiled Wahneenah and bade her:
“Put aside the grief that palsies, and find joy in the children whom the Great Spirit has sent you. They also are homeless and orphaned. There are left now no white soldiers to harry and distress. This cavern is warmer than a wigwam, and there is store of food for many more than three. Remain here until the springtime and by then I may return. I go now to my brother Gomo, at St. Joseph’s, to counsel at his fireside on what may yet be done to save the remnant of our people. You are safer here than in any village that I know. Farewell.”
But, absorbed in his own gloomy reflections, the Black Partridge for once forgot his native caution; and without waiting to reconnoitre, he mounted his horse and rode boldly away from the shelter of the brush into the broad light of the prairie and so due north toward the distant encampment of his tribesmen.
Yet the glittering eyes of a jealous Indian were watching him as he rode. An Indian who had been sheltered by the hospitality of the great chief, and for many months, in Muck-otey-pokee; but who had neither gratitude nor mercy in his heart, wherein was only room for treachery and greed.
As Black Partridge rode away from the cave by the river, the other mounted his horse and rode swiftly toward it.
CHAPTER XI.
UNDER A WHITE MAN’S ROOF.
The log cabin of Abel and Mercy Smith stood within a bit of forest that bordered the rich prairie.