“He is,” returned Solomon Strange, hoarsely; “exposure to the night air is fast telling upon the Black Bear’s lungs. It hurts him to speak. He is hoarse, but he wished to speak to the brave young chief, Allacotah.”
“The ears of Allacotah are open,” returned the young chief, “he harkens to the voice of the great Black Bear.”
“Since I am unable to take the war-path,” began Solomon Strange, his hoarseness seeming to grow worse each moment, “I want the brave young Allacotah to take all my warriors and go away in the hills toward the rising sun and search for the white maiden. Should you find her, harm not a hair of her head, or the vengeance of the great Manitou will rest upon you. Should you find any pale-faces, harm them not, but bring them before Black Bear, even the great White Ranger whose sword has slain our braves in the heart of our encampment. Black Bear has spoken.”
“Allacotah has heard, and will do his bidding with joy and pride,” returned Allacotah, “but he is sorry the great chief is unwell, and can not lead his warriors upon the trail. But he must rest and he will be well soon. Allacotah has spoken.”
The young chief turned and left the tent, and in a few moments the wildest excitement prevailed throughout the village. Laughing to himself at his novel situation and splendid success, Solomon Strange peered out at a hole in his lodge, and saw that Allacotah was gathering his warriors for the war-path.
In less than an hour every warrior able to bear arms had left the village.
Black Bear, or Solomon Strange, now arose and walked away through the encampment and plunged into the woods.
He was on his way to Lone Pine to meet Duval Dungarvon.