“Just so,” returned Winnebeg. “See him Gubbenor, Missa McKenzie; tell him not go. Stay here—fort strong—plenty powder—plenty guns—you tell him so.”
“Most assuredly I will; and if he adopts the most prudent course, he will remain. With your strong force without and ours within, we may have a fair chance with any force that may be brought against us, whereas heaven only knows what may not be the result if we attempt so long a march through the wilderness, alive with Indians in the interest of the British. Good by, Winnebeg; you will excuse me, I am sure, for there must be no time lost in consulting with Captain Headley. Make yourself at home, and call out to Harry for anything you may want. That claret will not hurt you after your long journey; it is pleasant to the taste, and not very strong.”
“Tankee, Massa Kenzie; Winnebeg go to Pottowatomie camp—not been dere yet. Gubbenor say no tell him Ingins war begun till hold council to-morrow. Winnebeg sure him know it free, four days.”
“Why, do you think that, Winnebeg, since there has been no intelligence of the kind since your arrival?”
“See him plenty Pottowatomie here in Detroit while Winnebeg wait for despatches.”
“Indeed; but they may not have returned.”
“Don't know—maybe no, maybe yes.”
“Well, to-morrow the matter will be no secret, Winnebeg; and some decision will no doubt be added. In the meantime, you will be able to learn whether anything is known in the encampment of this unwelcome news, and, if so, what your people think of it.”
“Kenzie,” said the chief, taking and warmly grasping the trader's hand, “all Pottowatomies tink like Winnebeg—no go to Fort Wayne.”