“Come in, friends,” Kingdom continued, his voice taking on a more cordial tone. “I suppose you have come to look for Little Paleface, but he is not here nor has he been for many days.”
“Witches come or witches go. Like the wind they are here but they are gone. Let the Delawares see.”
These words from Lone-Elk set all the party to looking about in careful search. No crevice was too small to escape their investigations. They seemed to think the so-called witch might hide himself in a space not large enough to admit a hand, and peered into every chink and corner.
It developed later that the savages were looking more for evidence of witchcraft than for the alleged witch himself. Still nothing was discovered.
“Brothers, hearken to Lone-Elk,” the Seneca cried presently. “We remember the great crow which sat so long upon the gathered corn. Look, then, where the corn was. Witches take strange forms but they leave marks behind, if the Delawares can find them.”
In a body the reckless party of braves the Seneca had brought rushed toward the cornfield. Only one loitered in the rear and he was Fishing Bird.
Lone-Elk was in advance. Even while he spoke, he was leading the way, and as if he had marked the spot well, he went directly to the shock of corn on which the vagrant crow was perched the day the Indians watched in vain for John Jerome while he slyly peeked out at them from the cabin loft.
“Tear down the corn! See what can be found!” the Seneca cried, and with a violent jerk laid the shock of fodder over upon the ground.
“Ugh!”
The savage who spoke was an evil-looking fellow and one of Lone-Elk’s warmest followers. Even as his exclamations were made, he seized a heavy stone tomahawk, which lay on the ground where the shock of corn had been, and held it up for all to behold.