“Let’s understand each other, my red friend. I was among the Americans as a spy. What were you doing in their service?”
“Bright Wing him spy, too,” was the unmoved rejoinder.
“And you have left them and come to fight with your people?”
“Ugh! me fight with friends. Paleface fight with redmen?”
“No,” Bradford reluctantly admitted; “I shan’t fight with them. I can better help them in another way. Where are you going?”
“Bright Wing him go find friends. Good-night.”
The Wyandot stalked away, leaving Bradford staring after him.
“It may be all right,” muttered the latter, “but I greatly doubt it. I suspect that cunning fellow’s here as a spy. But how did he pass the guards at the gate? Ah! here comes Gray Wolf!”
Gray Wolf was a gigantic, vicious-looking Shawnee. Evidently he and Bradford were old acquaintances. They held a hurried conversation. Then Gray Wolf hastened away in pursuit of Bright Wing. He came upon the Wyandot in an obscure corner of the inclosure, just as the latter was preparing to scale the palisade.