“But, good Ewa, explain to me—tell me of—”
“Cooree, cooree! not now, not to-night. There is no time, chepawnee! See! look yonder to the west! Netle-hasse (the night sun—the moon) is going to bed. You must be gone. You dare not walk in the darkness. You must get back to the topekee before the moon is hid—go, go, go!”
“But I told you, Ewa, I had business here. I dare not leave till it is done.”
“Hulwak! there is danger then. What business, mico! Ah! I guess. See! they come for whom you wait?”
“True—it is they, I believe.”
I said this, as I perceived the tall shadows of the two chiefs flitting along the further edge of the pond.
“Be quick, then: do what you must, but waste not time. In the darkness you will meet danger. Haj-Ewa must be gone. Good night, young mico: good night.”
I returned the salutation; and facing round to await the arrival of the chiefs, lost sight of my strange companion.
The Indians soon came upon the ground, and briefly delivered their report.
Holata Mico had struck his tents, and was moving away from the encampment.