William heard the shout of warning, and ran like a deer back to the log cabin.
The heavy door was shut with a slam, and John's father, with his rifle, waited for the Indian attack.
But the two Indians did not dare attack the log cabin.
Dragging John after them, they started up the river bank toward their Indian town, many, many miles away.
All day long they traveled, and at night they built a small fire.
Over this fire they roasted a partridge which one of them had shot. John was given his share of the bird and a handful of parched Indian corn.
The Indians looked at John's skates, which still hung over his shoulder.
They did not know what skates were. They thought they must be some of the white man's magic.
On and on they traveled for many days, following an old Indian path.
All through the long march John still carried his skates.