The captive was glad to believe that none of the Indians knew him. They would be for taking him directly to the Delaware town, to place him at, the mercy of Lone-Elk, if they were aware of the charge against him, he was certain. If the savages asked him anything, he would in self-defense be bound to deceive them. Thinking of this made John think of deceiving the band still further. He would cause the savages to believe that he was from Detroit, a British spy sent to ascertain the extent of Wayne’s forces, and, of course, friendly to the Indians.
The boy’s opportunity to put his plan into practice came rather sooner than he expected. Within a few minutes one of the redskins who had their heads together in conference, came to him and asked in very fair English who he was and what he was doing in the woods so far from the settlements.
“It’s about time you were finding out, I think,” John answered, with a show of injured innocence. “At Detroit we are taught to believe that the English and the Indians are brothers. We both hate the Americans, who are robbing all the tribes of the Northwest just as they robbed the Eastern tribes long ago, yet when my chief sends me to find out what moves the Americans are making to march into the forests of the Indians, lo! a party of my red brothers seize me and treat me as a prisoner!”
The savage to whom John addressed his words of well-feigned righteous wrath looked puzzled, then a grin spread itself slowly over his lips. He summoned the other Indians and told them, in substance, what the captive said. Then in a tongue John did not understand he added a few words which made them all smile.
Very much afraid that in some way he had gotten himself into a predicament, with his hastily concocted story, the lad felt at heart that he might have fared as well if he had told the truth; but having made a start upon a different road he was unwilling to turn back.
Even when one of the redskins began to question him as to when he had left Detroit, and with whom and by what route he had traveled, he maintained his air of offended friendship, and answered as best he could. Asked the name of the person in command at Detroit at the time he left, he promptly answered, “Col. John Jenkins, and you ought to know it, if you know anything about Detroit at all.”
John used the first name which came to him in replying to this question, and he answered many others just as rashly. From appearing puzzled the savages now seemed mightily amused. The prisoner noted the fact with chagrin, but stuck resolutely to his original story. The climax came, however, when he was asked if there had been much snow at Detroit when he left.
“Why, no; not much to speak of,” he promptly answered.
The Indians looked at one another and grinned. Then one of them turned to him.
“Paleface heap big liar,” he said.