“It was quite a chilly night,” Kingdom answered in the same manner, stirring the coals of the fire, and getting down on his knees to blow them.
And not once that day was the joke referred to. Afterward John said that the first impression he had as he felt the ice on his head was that his hair was on fire.
John was much surprised but equally pleased as he learned of Ree’s adventure of the night, and could not wait until after breakfast to run down to the foot of the slope to inspect the canoe. He found that it was only a little warped by reason of having been out of the water all summer, and the kettle and other articles they had left with it, were also in good condition.
Awakened from his long sleep at last, but still keeping his precious saddle bags under one arm, Theodore Hatch was telling Ree that he felt much improved, as John returned to the cabin.
Indeed, the mysterious stranger was looking vastly better than at any time yet, and when breakfast was ready, ate quite heartily, propped up on the rude bed he occupied. He inquired about his mare, Phœbe, before he asked anything else, and that led to the telling of the whole story of how he had been found and cared for by the boys. With much feeling the Quaker expressed his gratitude.
“I was traveling into the wilderness unarmed,” he said. “I am a man of peace, as are all those of our faith. I have met hostile Indians at different times, but when they saw who and what I was, they made no movement toward molesting me. I cannot understand why I was attacked, but it must have been because of the failing light, and my assailant, whoever he was, may not have seen rightly. It was just at evening as I prepared to spend the night beside a little thicket. I saw no one, but heard a shot and fell with the wound in my side. I was still conscious as a young Indian ran up to me and beat me on the head with his hatchet. Then I knew no more.”
As he spoke, Theodore Hatch put up his hand to feel his injured head. A look of horror and mental anguish came to his face.
“Was I scalped?” he gasped.
John was almost ready to laugh over the Quaker’s despairing tone, but kept a straight face, and Ree in answer to the question soberly nodded.
“The poor, deluded sinner,” groaned the stranger. “I have forgiven mine enemies always—always. I must—I will—aye, I do, truly forgive him. He did not know I was a man of peace. Oh, why did I come into these forests?”