“The land north of the big river belongs to the Indian. The Great Father gave it to the Indian and the palefaces smoked the pipe of peace with the red man. Now they would come and kill our game and the red man must die.”
“Our party was not seeking land north of the river when the Indians cruelly attacked us.”
“The Wyandottes are at peace with the Shawnees and do not take away their captives.”
“You all are at peace with the whites and have no right to make me a prisoner,” was Rodney’s reply, so boldly spoken he feared its effect might be bad.
“Young braves will not always obey their chiefs,” was the rather evasive reply of the old man, and the boy instinctively felt he had not displeased Ahneota by his bold speech.
“Ahneota has one brother. He left the palefaces and is an Indian.”
The boy understood this to mean that he might, by forsaking his people, find safety as a member of the tribe. Every tie of affection bound him to his own people. He knew, moreover, that if an adopted member of the tribe ever deserted it the offence was regarded as a most serious one; that on the contrary he would be expected, if need be, to fight against his own people. He made no reply.
“Will paleface be Ahneota’s brother?”
Thought of home almost brought tears to the boy’s eyes. He gulped down his emotion, for he knew the Indians look with contempt on any display of one’s feelings.