"No."
"White fader dead. White moder dead. Shawnee warriors kill me fader. Kill moder. Many moons ago."
"How many?"
A puzzled expression for a moment appeared on the stranger's face, and then, comprehending the meaning of the question, he opened and closed his hands so many times that, although Peleg was unable to count the number of moons indicated, he concluded that the Shawnee was approximately of his own age.
"Me live in Shawnee wigwam many moons. Me Shawnee. Me white Shawnee. Me have Shawnee fader and Shawnee broder," and he held up two fingers to indicate the number of his brothers.
"One of the men who had been stationed as a guard
was shot early in the morning"
"What are you doing here? What do you want?" demanded Peleg sharply. He was mystified by the statements which had been made and was fearful of some trap or treachery on the part of his visitor or his companions, who might even then be watching from the nearby forest.
"Me fader, me broder, me go," the visitor replied, pointing to himself. "All go trap many beaver, many mink, many muskrat," he added, making a circle with his hand to indicate his inability to count the pelts which had been taken. "Me broder he wan' go on warpath. He wan' help drive palefaces out Kantuckee. Me fader he say he go," nodding his head many times to emphasize his statement. "But one night many owls scream and cry. He say then no go. Me broder he say go. Me fader say yes."