“What does the white face say?”
“The Shawnee chief is a noble hunter and a warrior whose fame runs beyond the blue ridge,” said Daniel Boone. “And his words are as straight as the young birch by the waterside. It is true that the pale-face’s friends are far away, and that his lodge is many days across the hills; and for both of these his heart is sore. But he would not lose his life. Other friends he can make; other lodges he can build; but he has one life only, and when that is gone he cannot call it back.”
Black Wolf repeated this to his counselors and again came the chorus of grunted approval.
“It is well spoken,” praised the Shawnee chief. “Do you, then, give up your people and will you go to the villages of the Shawnee and make them your home?”
“To save my life—yes.”
“And you?” asked Black Wolf, his eyes going to Stuart.
“I say the same,” replied that worthy.
“It is well,” said the chief.
He arose, and the elder braves did likewise; turning to them he spoke briefly and to what he said they apparently agreed with readiness. One of the warriors took out his knife, approached the captives and severed the thongs which bound them.
Black Wolf signed for them to get up.