But the first consideration was, where should he find an Indian? He was aware that the Red men had been pushed backward and westward miles from the towns of the whites. It was years since he had roamed through the forests and mountains——years since he had known where his old-time, red brothers built their lodges. There could be but one means of finding a camp, namely: to walk onward, to penetrate fairly to the edge of the wilderness beyond.
Nothing daunted by the thought of distance, he struck out for the west. Like the Indians themselves, he could smell the points of the sunrise and sunset, unerringly. With boyish joy in his thoughts, and in the dreams he fashioned of the hair-breadth events that would happen when he arrived in the town in his toggery, he plodded along all night, happy once more and contented.
CHAPTER XXXII.
A FOSTER PARENT.
Adam covered many a mile before the morning. Mindless of his hunger, spurred by the thought that he must soon be back in Boston, he felt that the further he went the more he must hasten. Thus he marched straight on till noon.
He rested briefly at this time, filled his craving stomach with water, and again made a start. In fifteen minutes he came upon a clearing, at the edge of a little valley where up-jutting rocks were as plentiful as houses in a city. Pausing for a moment, to ascertain the nature of the place, and to prepare himself against possible surprise, he presently approached a small log hut, of more than usually rude construction.
There appeared to be no signs whatsoever of life about the place. No smoke ascended from the chimney; there was no animal in sight, not even so much as a dog.
Adam glanced hurriedly about the acre or so of land, beholding evidences of recent work. A tree had been felled, not far away, within the week. In a neat little patch of tilled soil, green corn stood two feet high and growing promisingly.
Going to the cabin-door he knocked first and gave it a push afterward, for it was not latched, although it was nearly closed. There being no response from the inside, he entered. The light entered with him. It revealed a strange and dreadful scene.
On the floor lay a man, dressed, half raised on his elbow, looking up at the visitor with staring eyes, while he moved his lips without making a sound. A few feet away sat a little brown baby-boy, clothed only in a tiny shirt. He looked up at big Adam wistfully. Strewn about were a few utensils for cooking, a bag which had once contained flour, the dust of which was in patches everywhere, and an empty water-bucket and dipper, with all the bedding and blankets from a rude wooden bunk, built against the wall.