The sparks pouring out of the great chimney of the cabin and the light shining through the chinks here and there, giving promise of a warm fire and supper awaiting him, were a most pleasant sight to John as he galloped into the clearing and across the little valley to his home, in the early twilight. The night had come on cold and raw, with every indication of a considerable snowfall and an end of the bright days of autumn weather which had extended into December.
Ree came quickly out of the cabin as he heard John’s approach.
“Trot along in, old boy, and warm yourself, I’ll look after Neb,” he said, wondering why John had not brought the old cart home, but waiting for another time to ask questions, for he knew his chum must be cold.
Ah, how pleasant it was to be snug and comfortable and safe once more, and with his mind chuck-full of interesting things to tell Ree, thought John, when he had washed his hands and face and spoken a pleasant word to the quiet Quaker sitting in a big, easy chair the boys had rigged up for him, with the half of a large hollow block of wood for a back. There was the delicious smell of fresh bear steaks to sharpen his appetite, too, and a crisp, brown johnny-cake still smoking hot on the table. A little bark basket of hickory nuts, to be cracked afterward as a relish and to help pass the time pleasantly, was on the rude chimney mantel. Only one thing marred his happiness. It was the thought of the awful murder of Black Eagle and of the Indian’s body lying cold and still in the dark forest.
“Yes, sir, I guess it does feel good to be back again,” said John most heartily, in reply to a remark the Quaker made, and soon Ree came in and supper was ready at once.
Theodore Hatch was helped up to the table, easy chair and all, and the two boys seated themselves on three-legged stools, of their own manufacture.
“I’ve got a heap to tell,” said John, brimming over with anxiety to impart his information, but giving Ree a wink to signify that he could not tell all in the presence of the Quaker without letting the latter know the object of his journey.
“Go ahead; let’s hear the whole story,” said Ree. “Mr. Hatch knows where you went, and why. For, you see, he made a discovery to-day, and then I told him where Ichabod Nesbit was killed, and that you had gone to give his bones a respectable burial.”
The gravity of Ree’s tone caused John to ask, with some concern:
“A discovery?”