While he was gone Sergeant Quayle told, with many expletives and many invectives against the British, the confession the murderer had made. The fellow’s name, it developed, was Lobb. He had been connected in an unofficial way with the British garrison at Detroit and had served a number of times as a go-between for the English officers in certain of their more or less secret dealings with the Indians. In consequence of these services he was chosen to accompany two men sent to encourage hostilities among the savages to the south of Lake Erie and as near the border of the American settlements as they should deem it prudent to go.
The party traveled by canoe, Lobb had said, and coasting along the southern shore of Lake Erie, readied and ascended the Cuyahoga river. In the course of this trip they fell in with Lone-Elk, roaming the woods alone, as his frequent custom was. The Seneca was not unknown to the men, for he had visited Detroit and offered his services to the British when forced to flee from his home among his own people.
For various reasons, but principally because they feared some news of their presence would reach Fort Pitt or Gen. Wayne, the men concluded to do all their business with the Indians of the locality through Lone-Elk. He would distribute their bounty, the powder and the bullets they brought, also gold for those who cared for it.
Not long had the men been in the vicinity when they decided to visit the salt springs of which they had heard a great deal. To conceal their identity they concluded, also, that they would make some salt while there, pretending that such was the sole purpose of their presence.
It was at the springs that Lobb’s cupidity got the better of his natural cowardice and what little decency he possessed. With a view to obtaining the gold in the party’s possession, and thinking then to escape to the east in disguise, he concealed himself and shot both his comrades just as they were preparing to leave the springs. To convey the impression that Indians had done the awful deed he scalped both men. Then, filled with fear lest the bodies be found before he could get away, he had dragged them into the woods and covered them with brush.
“Well, why did he hang around here? What did he say about the lead mine?” asked Ree, as the Sergeant finished.
“Sure, it’s all the farther he wint with his black yarn, fer with ‘ye dirty cur, ye!’ I give him a push an’ a shove an’ he landed where he’s still layin’, hard an’ fast ferninst the ground there.”
Lobb was questioned further by Kingdom immediately. The boy believed he saw in the loathsome creature’s story reason to believe that the Delawares had been grievously deceived by the Seneca.
Whining and groaning, the self-confessed murderer continued his story. He had been afraid to go on east from the springs, he said, and made all haste back to the Cuyahoga, where he and his companions had established headquarters in a small cave, originally pointed out to them by Lone-Elk.
From here he dared move in no direction. He was afraid to return to Detroit—afraid to go east, west, north or south. Knowing of the presence of the two boy pioneers, a few miles away, his fears were greatly increased lest they discover him and guess his guilty secret. Day after day, then, he had lived in the hole in the hillside, coming out only at night to prepare food, or when forced to go in search of fresh meat.