To his surprise Ree found Mrs. Catesby and Mary waiting for him in the combined sitting-room and kitchen, when he entered the house.
“As you will be leaving so very early, sir, we thought to say good-bye to you to-night,” said Mary with feigned solemnity. And a little later she said as they were talking, “I do hope you will be as good as your name and will bring your scalp safely home with you when you do ‘return’.”
Ree laughed and promised he would do so, but he blushed, and seeing which, Mary Catesby did the same, and looked her very prettiest.
“We shall think of you often, Return, and maybe you will be able sometimes to send us a letter. We shall be glad to hear from you, and oh, my boy, be careful—careful in all things,” Mrs. Catesby said.
There were more teasing words from Mary, and more advice and real tears, from Mrs. Catesby and her daughter, too, before the final good-byes were said at last.
The late September sun spread a soft, warm haze over old Connecticut. A great, two-wheeled, canvas-covered cart lumbered slowly along the country road. Walking beside the one large horse which drew the vehicle, was Return Kingdom, his battered beaver hat on the back of his head, a smile of buoyant hope upon his lips. Sitting on a chest, his feet hanging over the front of the wagon box, his back against a bundle of blankets which made a fine cushion, was John Jerome. Joy in living and satisfaction with himself and all mankind were written in every line of his face. It was eight o’clock of a Monday morning. Two hours earlier the long journey toward the unknown Northwest had begun.
“Why, ye’r in a terrible hurry, youngsters! Thought I’d never ketch ye!”
It was Captain Bowen who called out, driving his spirited team alongside of the emigrant wagon as he did so.
“After ye’d gone, it come to me all of a sudden that ye’d stand a chance of meetin’ an old friend of mine. He is an Iroquois Injun of the Mohawk tribe an’ his name is High Horse. General Putnam gave him this knife fer doin’ some thin’ or other one time, an’ High Horse gave it to me ’cause I shared powder an’ bullets with him when he was out, an’ durin’ the war at that. Seems t’ me naow, tew, that I pulled him through some sick spell or somethin’. Any haow he give me the knife. If ye see him tell him ye know me. I heerd that he was livin’ up some crick emptyin’ into the Ohio.”