“Heap,” the fellow answered, glancing around to note where Ree was placing the rifle he had put in the boy’s hands as a sign of friendship, upon entering.
“Get our friend some meat, John,” said Ree, standing the rifle in a corner. “Sit down and warm yourself,” he next said, addressing the mysterious caller, pushing a stool toward him.
The fellow seated himself, but still turned his face away, even while eating the cold venison which John placed on another stool beside him. Again John tried to get him to talk, but he answered only in the briefest way, and said nothing except when directly spoken to. Of his own accord a little later, however, he did speak, saying: “Me good Injun; me sleep here,” pointing to the floor near the fire.
“Yes, you may sleep there,” said Ree, but behind the visitor’s back he gave John a look which said, “We must watch this chap,” and his chum winked and nodded.
Theodore Hatch seemed quite undisturbed by the presence of the unexpected guest, but continued to talk to the boys of his plans for teaching and caring for the Indians at Captain Pipe’s town. Then he drifted from that subject to wondering whether the missing part of the paper describing the hiding place of his aunt’s fortune would ever fall into his hands.
“Of one thing we must make sure,” he said, “the letter must never come into the possession of the scoundrels who robbed me. I shall never use—verily if I am to work as a missionary among these poor Indians,—I shall never need, the money my poor mother’s sister secreted for my unfortunate brother and myself; yet shall it remain hidden rather than that it should be found and gambled away and spent for rum by the wicked men who have tried to obtain it.”
“Heap tired—Injun heap tired,” said the strange creature still toasting his hands close to the fire, though it was now so warm that the others had moved back from the blaze, and John was even lying on the bed of skins and blankets in the farthest corner.
“Yes, strange friend, lie down and rest thyself,” answered the Quaker complacently, taking a large bearskin from his own bed, and handing it to the fellow.
Without a word the latter wrapped the robe about his head and shoulders and threw himself in a corner—the very corner in which Ree had put his rifle.
“I, too, am weary,” said Mr. Hatch, and removing his coat and boots he lay down on his own bed and was soon snoring.