CHAPTER VI—“THE WITCH IS HIDDEN HERE.”
That part of Lone-Elk’s band which had been appointed to hide along the river bank throughout the day and paddle up and down in the densest shadows of the shores when night had come, did not keep up their search as long as John had hoped they would, when he silently chuckled over the thought of their waste of time and effort.
When they passed so close to the lad they sought, not more than one of them suspecting how very near he was, the Delawares were closing in on the cabin, together with others on shore. Lone-Elk had given the signal, by passing the word quietly along the irregular line his braves made around the clearing, after waiting all day long. He hoped to find the “witch” in hiding in the little cabin. Even if he did not, he would impress the Delawares with the seeming truth of the charge he had made against the young white man by showing that he was away from home, engaged, presumably, in some of his dreadful witch’s work. The Seneca had, moreover, a plan in mind which made a visit to the home of the young Palefaces desirable from his point of view, whether the one they sought should be discovered or not, and now would be as good a time as any for the carrying out of his purpose.
While the Indians were yet at a distance, Kingdom, watching and listening in the cabin, heard their approach. He had kept his rifle close at hand all day, and now he casually picked the weapon up and with a show of idle carelessness polished its glossy stock with a bit of buckskin.
The savages came silently on, apparently without effort to keep from being heard. Kingdom was aware that they kept their line spread out so as to form a semicircle which, together with the river, would wholly enclose the little log house. His sharp ears assured him that this was done, but it was with well acted surprise that he sprang lightly up and stepped toward the door when Lone-Elk and one other Indian showed themselves at last within the dim ray of light shining from the fireplace.
“Come in! It’s wet and bad outside! Bring them all in!” he called pleasantly, meeting the Seneca at the threshold and glancing out as if he plainly saw the whole line of Indians outside, which in fact he did not see at all.
“White Fox speaks kindly,” answered Lone-Elk, calling Ree by the name the Delawares had long ago given him.
Only the Seneca and the one other Indian drew near the lighted space about the door, however, and these two now entered as if they were quite by themselves.
“Why should I not?” Ree answered to the Seneca’s remark, noticing as he did so, how searchingly both the savages were looking about the cabin’s single room. “We,—my white brother and myself—have had the friendship of the Delawares always.”
“It is as the white brother says,” said the second Indian, a powerful fellow whom Kingdom now recognized as a brave from the Delaware town on the Muskingum, and whom he had seen a number of times before. As he spoke, this Indian looked at Lone-Elk inquiringly. Perhaps the Seneca considered his words a challenge. At any rate he said sharply: