“I lodged at the Eagle tavern that night and from there set out to find the Indian, Black Eagle, and in a few weeks I located him. But he had taken nothing from the body of Ichabod Nesbit, for killing whom I took him sharply to task; for, though Ichabod was no credit to me, he was yet my half-brother, as I have said. Having learned from Black Eagle where Ichabod’s body lay, beneath the stones along the trail at the foot of the hill, near where a giant tree was shattered by lightning, I went again to the Eagle tavern to get further information.
“I wished to know if Ichabod had any family or other relations of whom I might be ignorant. I found that he had none. And it was that night, as I lay at Mr. Quilling’s establishment, that my letter was taken from my saddle-bags, though they were in my room, and the greater wonder is that nothing else was stolen. Not—not that I have anything of great value about me! Indeed, no!”
So did the Quaker finish his story, and neither of the lads who heard it for a moment thought he had not spoken the truth.
“It must have been soon afterward that we chanced to stop at the Eagle,” said Ree, thoughtfully. “Quilling, being somewhat of a coward, and wanting help, took Duff and Dexter into his confidence, hoping to secure the other half of the fortune letter. They found Black Eagle and persuaded him to accompany them into this wilderness to find Nesbit’s body, believing either that they would reach the spot ahead of you, Mr. Hatch, or that you would be unable to find where Nesbit was killed—at any rate, that they would get his half of the letter, and, already having yours, secure the fortune.”
“Nay, they did not know I was coming to these desolate wilds,” the Quaker answered. “Not that I would intentionally deceive—oh, no! but fearing that rough persons along the road might molest me, should my mission be known, I caused Friend Quilling to believe (without staining my lips with lies, however) that I would be going back to Philadelphia, which I fervently hope I may yet do. But, oh, how sadly disfigured! Yet I shall not appear to disadvantage when my hat is on. That will cover the disfigurement then. No one will know my scalp is gone.”
“And when those fellows discovered,” said John, “that some one had reached Nesbit’s grave ahead of them, and Duff found out that Black Eagle had directed you to the place, saying nothing to them of having done so, he deliberately killed the Indian. Now, what I was going to say is just this:—Duff will kill any one of us if he gets a chance, if he thinks he can get hold of that piece of paper by doing so! What we ought to do is to go straight to those robbers and compel them to give up the letter they stole from Mr. Hatch.”
This suggestion gave the Quaker great uneasiness.
“No, no—we must not go near them! We must keep away from them—oh dear, oh dear!”
All in all Mr. Hatch was so distressed and it was now so late, that without more ado, Ree drew in the latch-string, a signal that it was bed time.
The hickory bark torch had long since burned out. The fire was low and the interior of the cabin almost dark. Confident, therefore, that no one without would notice his action, even though watching the cabin, Ree next opened loop holes on all sides and he and John carefully looked out.