The wounded Redskin was conscious as Ree bent over him.
“Don’t speak if it will hurt you, but if you can, tell me who fired that shot at you,” Ree urged.
“Black Eagle come soon,” was the buck’s only answer; and indeed it was but a few minutes until the other Indian returned. Ree met him and inquired calmly. “What luck, Black Eagle?”
“Gone. Paleface robber gone.”
“Who was it? Where has he gone?”
“Gone,” the savage repeated.
“Turn in and get some sleep, John; Black Eagle and I will watch a while,” said Ree.
“Gone,” growled the Indian with gruff dignity; and wrapped himself in a blanket and was soon asleep.
John likewise lay down, but Ree, resolving to exercise every care, remained awake through the whole night. Twice John awoke and wanted to take a turn at guard duty but each time he was told to go back and “Cover up his head.” Reluctantly he did so. He felt that he would do anything in his power for Ree Kingdom, but he was far from guessing what Fate had in store for him to do in his friend’s behalf before they should see Connecticut again.
With the first light of morning Ree went reconnoitering hoping to find the trail of the young Indian’s mysterious assailant. Scarcely had he started when Black Eagle joined him, and in the road three hundred paces from the camp they came upon the trail together. A single man had approached the camp on foot—a white man it was certain, for he wore boots—and from behind a thick thorn bush had fired the shot. Then the trail led back along the road, but soon disappeared in the woods.