Ethan explained in what manner the presence of Wahena had saved them from the Indians.
"We can't spare him till we get out of the woods ourselves," added Ethan.
"Then I must go back and be skelped," replied Rattleshag, solemnly. "I promised Lean B'ar thet I'd git the boy, or else I'd kim back myself; and old Rattleshag never broke his word to Injin or white man."
"Thet's so," said Ethan, who knew the reputation of the trapper for simple honesty and fidelity.
"Hev you got a boat?" asked Rattleshag.
"Yes."
"Then I reckon we kin go down to Mankato. The sogers is drivin' the Injins back. Thyer's ben awful times all through the country; more 'n a thousand men, women, and children hes ben killed. I've trevelled all through from Big Stone, dodgin' the Injins all the way. They are as savage as painters. I kim down hyer to git away from 'em, but I found they'd ben hyer too," added the trapper, with another melancholy shake of the head. "It's awful."
Rattleshag over-estimated the number of victims to this terrible massacre, though it has been stated as high as seven hundred. He related to the young exiles his adventures in his long journey through the devoted region which had been the scene of so much cruelty and bloodshed. He told of the men, women, and children he had seen lying dead and mangled in the deserted settlements; of the wounded, starving, and dying fugitives he had met in their flight; and of the desolation which lay in the track of the merciless savages.
The listeners were appalled and horrified at the sad and bloody tale. Fanny wept, and Ethan with difficulty choked down the emotions which agitated him.
"What shall be did?" asked the trapper, at last. "Kin you let the boy go, or shall I go back and be skelped?"