“Yes, certainly.”
“But, Earth,” said Rolfe, “they profess to be at peace, and surely would not add another crime to the one just committed.”
“Yes, they will do any thing,” said Earth, “never put any trust in one if you can help it.”
“Well, Earth, tell me where do you think they are going?”
“That is more than I can tell,” said Earth, “you know that large numbers are constantly gathering upon the Wabash to see their new made prophet, and these may be hurrying on there, like a parcel of 'coon dogs on a warm trail. But this looks mightily like some of Tecumseh's work.”
“How? What do you mean by Tecumseh's work?”
“Why, I mean I never knowed any one of his band to leave any thing unfinished. I've known 'Cumseh a long time; I knowed him when he was a mere boy, in the old ‘Black Snake's’ time. I have set for him many a night on his paths, and watched for him like I would for a deer at a lick. That was a good while ago, Rolfe, but he used to make his mark then mightily like this one we've seen to night.”
“Whom do you mean by the old ‘Black Snake?’” inquired Rolfe.
“Who? Mad Anthony to be sure; why, Rolfe, you don't know any thing. The Ingens called him the ‘Black Snake,’ because, although they kept a sharp look out, he would crawl upon their lands before they knowed it.”
“Well, where is Tecumseh?” said Rolfe, “tell me that, for I think it probable they are going to his camp.”