"Bad scran to ye now, Huntin' Jim, ef I don't take ye by the neck this instant and scalp ye. 'Tis yerself that's uncommon handsome to-day. Stand up and let the Cap'n see ye."
He retired into the background, and gave Steve an opportunity of setting eyes on the tall trapper who had been such a staunch friend. He, too, was decked as an Indian, and in his case the disguise was perhaps even more natural than in that of the others. For Jim was tall and wiry. He was trained by constant wanderings in the forest to the very last ounce, and his muscles, though small and not of Mac's proportions, stood out like whipcord. Then, too, his sharp and intelligent features helped in the deception, while the habits which this old hunter had learned in the fifty years of his busy life had given him that imperturbable look common to the Indians.
"You was never so surprised in all yer life, Cap'n, I reckon," he said. "You was mighty sick of roostin' up there in the fort, and no doubt thinkin' of having a turn for liberty yerself. Then Silver Fox come into the fort, and I'll bet what yer like that he walked about as ef he'd been thar many a time, and as ef he wasn't on no account to be hurried. He's that cool, he's like an icicle."
"He is a gallant fellow, and I thank him. Chief, I owe a lot to you as well as to these other friends. But who is the stranger?"
A tall Indian had stood in the background looking on at the scene with a half-suppressed air of contempt on his finely chiselled features, for your Indian could not understand the need for such warmth and such hand-shakings over a meeting. Silver Fox beckoned to him.
"This is my brother, Hawk," he said, "this is Flying Bird, a Mohawk once, and later a Huron. He is now again one of our tribe."
"And thereby hangs the tale of your release, my boy," broke in Mr. Mainwaring. "The story is soon told. This Flying Bird was born in the same wigwam as our old friend Silver Fox, and would have been there to this day had not the village been raided. The Hurons made a sudden descent, and Flying Bird was carried away. He was then seventeen, and almost a brave. He was spared, and became one of the Hurons, marrying into the tribe. Now he has lost his wife, and taking advantage of the fact that the Hurons were marching into the country adjacent to that in which the Mohawks lived, he made a journey to find Silver Fox. He came in the nick of time. I had just returned to find you a prisoner, and the band of scouts which you had formed near Fort William Henry about to be disbanded. They had been fortunate in escaping from the fort before the surrender, and of course there was little left for them to do.
"Well, we made plans to meet again at the breaking of the winter, and two months ago we gathered at Silver Fox's village. His brother had returned to Canada for the cold months, so as to allay suspicion, and we fell in with him ten days ago south of the St. Lawrence. As to how we reached that part, why, the movements of our troops are beginning to worry the French, and they are concentrating at the threatened places, leaving the upper reaches of the Richelieu and the country to the west of that river almost denuded of trappers and Indians. We slipped through, and——"
"And here you are, father. What is the next move?"
"We wait here for a week perhaps, till the hue and cry for you is over. Then we take to the river, capture some sort of craft, and sail for Nova Scotia."