Ree knew the way perfectly, for he had traveled the route several times the previous winter. He felt no harm for his safety, but kept his eyes wide open and pushed forward among the great oaks and beech trees stealthily and rapidly. He saw no Indians but once or twice when splendid shots of game might have been made, he ignored them for safety’s sake. Leaving the beaten trail after an hour’s traveling, he made directly through the woods to the lake. Without seeing any human creature he approached the Indian town.
An air of loneliness hung over the place. Instead of smoke rising from two score or more of fires, in and among the rude log and bark houses and wigwams, the few columns of blue vapor which ascended seemed to show that the village was almost deserted.
This was true. No one remained in the usually lively home of Captain Pipe save a number of children and old men and squaws.
“How—ugh!” grunted an old warrior, smoking his pipe in a sunny place. He recognized Ree at once and held out his hand.
In a few minutes a half dozen aged men of the tribe had gathered around and all gave the young trader welcome. They could speak little English and though Ree knew some Delaware words their efforts at conversation were so poorly rewarded that one of the Indians went to call an interpreter.
To Ree’s surprise and pleasure the person summoned was Gentle Maiden, the daughter of Captain Pipe, a young woman thoroughly deserving of the pretty name the Moravian missionaries had bestowed upon her. From them she had learned the language of the “Long-knives” and with her Kingdom could communicate readily.
Gentle Maiden had no hesitancy in answering questions. She said her father and his warriors were still in the northwest country and might be absent all winter. Even lately runners had been in the neighborhood to call all able-bodied men to join the braves who had first gone forth for the expected fighting, and no Indians remained in the vicinity save those who were too old to go to war, and some of the women and children.
“And Big Buffalo?” asked Ree, referring to the Redskin who had given himself and John so much trouble and from whom he had made his escape in the nick of time after the attack upon their cabin.
“Big Buffalo is with the rest,” said Gentle Maiden.
“There is an Indian—not a Delaware, I think—but one who roams the forests alone and is not a friend of the Palefaces. What of him? He is still about here?”