"We are told to inquire the particulars of you, Nick," observed the captain; "I hope you will tell us nothing but truth. A lie is so unworthy a warrior's mouth!"
"Nick didn't lie 'bout beaver dam! Cap'in no find him good, as Indian say?"
"In that you dealt honestly, and I give you credit for it. Has any one seen this letter but ourselves, yourself, and the person who wrote it?"
"What for ask? If Nick say no, cap'in t'ink he lie. Even fox tell trut' some time; why not Injin? Nick say no."
"Where did you leave my son, and when?--Where is the party of red-skins at this moment?"
"All pale-face in hurry! Ask ten, one, four question, altogeder. Well; answer him so. Down here, at mill; down dere, at mill; half an hour, six, two, ten o'clock."
"I understand you to say that major Willoughby was at the mill when you saw him last, and that this was only half an hour since?"
The Tuscarora nodded his head in assent, but made no other reply. Even as he did this, his keen eyes rolled over the pallid faces of the females in a way to awaken the captain's distrust, and he resumed his questions in a tone that partook more of the military severity of his ancient habits than of the gentler manner he had been accustomed to use of late years.
"You know me, Nick," he said sternly, "and ought to dread my displeasure."
"What cap'in mean, now?" demanded the Indian, quietly.