“No see him,” replied Deerfoot, who at once began the work of cleaning the fish he had caught. Robert asked no more questions and as Deerfoot did not offer to tell how he had captured the second scalp, the matter was evidently closed, at least for the present. Both boys were burning with curiosity, but to no purpose. Some day perhaps, if Deerfoot felt so inclined, he would tell them all about his exploit, but this he apparently did not consider the proper time to do so.
“How long do you expect to stay here, Deerfoot?” inquired Joseph after several moments of silence. The Indian was cleaning the last fish and he made no reply until he had finished. The task did not consume much time, however, for the Pottowattomie was an expert in this art. He laid the fish upon a flat stone with the others, wiped his knife clean and then answered Joseph’s question.
“We leave tonight,” he said.
“Where are we going?” demanded Joseph and Robert in one breath.
“Dixon’s Ferry.”
“Dixon’s Ferry!” exclaimed Joseph. “Why, that’s a long distance from here.”
“I know,” agreed Deerfoot. “We go there. Soldiers there, too.”
“Is that so?” cried Joseph in surprise. “You mean soldiers sent against Black Hawk?”
“Yes,” said the Indian. “Governor Reynolds send soldiers.”
“How do you know all this?” inquired Robert doubtfully.