“Anything White Fox asks will Fishing Bird do,” the Indian replied, with quiet dignity.
CHAPTER XX—DELIVERED TO THE DELAWARES
The effort it cost John Jerome to conceal his astonishment and his chagrin as he encountered the savages hurrying toward the scene of the explosion, from which he was hastening away, would be hard to describe. But he controlled himself sufficiently to say:
“Hello, here, brothers! Don’t go up there or you may get blown sky high! My powder pouch fell into the’ fire, and it tore things up to beat the Dutch.”
With this greeting and hastily given explanation of his being found running away, the boy was starting on, thinking to be gone before the Indians had recovered from their own surprise; but in this he was disappointed. One fellow seized his hand, as if merely to shake it in friendly salutation, but continued to hold it and would not let him take it away. Quickly the other savages gathered near and, though but a few seconds had passed, John saw that he was a prisoner and that his escape was intentionally cut completely off.
The situation seemed to give the Indians vastly more pleasure than it gave Jerome. Their amusement and delight made itself manifest in curious ways. One, with a great show of interest, took the boy’s rifle from him and pretended to examine it as though it were some very rare specimen. Another did likewise with his pistols, while a third bore off his powder horn. Still others playfully rapped their victim’s shins and head with their gun barrels, driving him at last to such desperation that when one particularly playful fellow pricked him suddenly from behind with a knife-point, he wheeled and with clenched fist sent the redskin sprawling among the leaves.
The savage retaliated with the butt of his rifle, but now the party started on, two of them leading John between them, and for the time the annoyances ceased. The Indians went at once to the spot where the explosion had occurred, plainly marked in the gathering gloom by the remnants of the campfire. They inspected the locality with considerable interest. There was little to see, however, and in a short time they were under way again. Their course, John was sorry to see, was in the direction of the Delaware village on the lake.
Not until darkness made it quite impossible to go further did the savages pause. They chose as a camping place a slight depression in the ground, among some maples. The wind had gathered a deep drift of autumn leaves here, and as the captive lay down between two of the captors, he found his bed not otherwise uncomfortable. A long piece of untanned buckskin had been tied about his waist, however, and as its loose ends were tied to the waists of the Indians beside him, he realized that escape would be all but impossible.
John had had abundant opportunity to study the Indians while on the march, but the fading light had made it impossible to see them distinctly. There were seven in the party, all young, active fellows, and all strangers. They were Shawnees, John decided. Where they had been, and whither they were going he could not guess. He did know that it would be pleasanter lying between the two redskins who guarded him, if they would but give him more room, and he knew that the paint bedecking the band was no sign of good. Not wholly hopeless, however, he fell asleep at last, wondering what Ree was doing.
With daylight’s coming the Indians kindled a fire and broiled some venison. They allowed their prisoner to eat all he wished, nor for the present was he tortured further with such antics as had been indulged in the night before. No haste was made to break camp and be on the move again by the band, but to the contrary, they were very deliberate in all they did. During the morning they held a council and, though they spoke in guarded tones, John knew that he was the subject of their talk.