Straightening up the man continued:
“Knew him the second I see him. But he didn’t know me. He’s one of Little Beaver’s white Injuns. He’s Greeby.”
Knight nearly collapsed.
“Greeby the renegade! Why did he ask about my folks, my home, so many questions about everything?” he cried.
“So’s he could pass off for you where your folks was known and you wa’n’t. Now we’ll pick up a canoe I had hid along here somewheres and cross to t’other shore.”
“He was taking me to Massie’s station tomorrow!”
“He was taking your ha’r back to Little Beaver, leaving you dead where he cooked your supper. No more talk. Take his gun, powder horn ’n’ knife.”
“Not the knife,” shuddered Knight. “Can you find your canoe in the dark?”
“Why not? It ain’t run away. Come, hurry. This light may fetch a parcel of Injuns on our backs.”
“Lord knows I’m grateful, Daniels—”