"Your errand shpeed so petter as goot, mynheer?" queried Hans as they struck into the trail again.
"I flatter myself it will all come out right in the end, Hans," was the reply; then there was a muttered word or two that sounded like an imprecation upon some absent person, with a threat of vengeance for some real or fancied injury.
Chillicothe seemed sleeping when they re-entered it; the streets were silent and deserted, the houses closed and dark; only from the bar-room window of the General Anthony Wayne gleamed the light of a single tallow candle. Master and man entered there without noise or bustle and presently slipped quietly away to the room of the former.
[CHAPTER XXIV.]
Curiosity was rife in Chillicothe and its vicinity in regard to the ceremony about to take place at Old Town, and as the set time drew near very many whites of both sexes might have been seen approaching the spot, singly or in parties.
Clendenin, hindered by the demands of his profession, was one of the last to arrive on the ground.
He found the Indians drawn up in a hollow square, outside of which was the concourse of white spectators, inside Wolf with his promised bribe,—a horse, a new saddle and bridle, and a new rifle for each of the sons of his victim.
Kenneth had come alone. He knew that Dale had preceded him, and whom he was to escort thither, and there they were on the opposite side of the square; Nell in a becoming riding hat and habit, sitting her horse with accustomed ease and grace; Dale by her side, the picture of content and good humor.
Kenneth sighed involuntarily; what would he not have given to be in Dale's place, yet he was glad to see his friend so favored rather than the Englishman.