"Perhaps that may be too late to save the paleface. I fear they will have put him to death," said Jamie gloomily. "Cannot we go and save him now?"
"Why, what's the matter, old chap? You seem very despondent," said Jack, as his comrade heaved a sigh deep enough to break his heart. "Do you despair of your life, that you want to throw it away so cheaply? If we are discovered by yonder crew, our lives are not worth a toss, and our scalps will be carried to the Canada lodges."
"The Wacondah has spoken to my brother, and his heart is heavy," said the Indian, looking straight at Red Feather with his piercing eyes.
"What is it, Jamie? Out with it. We agreed that there should be no secrets between us," said Jack, half in jest and half in earnest.
"Jack," said his friend solemnly, "I dreamt last night that I saw this paleface hunter in the clutches of the Algonquins. He was bound to a tree, and they were practising upon him every conceivable torture that even a red devil can invent. I saw him pierced and wounded, and the blood flowing freely from his head and face. Then, having tormented him to the utmost bounds, and finding that his brave heart quailed not beneath it all, they brought faggots and brushwood and kindled them at his feet. They were going to burn him to death, yes, roast him alive, while they danced around him in mad delight. But just as they kindled the fire, and my heart was bursting with grief and agony, because I was unable to help, I awoke, for I could bear it no longer. Then Swift Arrow returned and told what he himself had seen, but I believe that I saw even more than he did, for he saw not the tortures--and--and--I fear that we shall be too late when the chief arrives with his braves. That is why I wished to go straight to the camp now, and what is more, the face of that hunter is as familiar to me as your own, that is by night, for I have often dreamt of him before, but by daylight his features become indistinct, and I cannot recall his face. So now that is why my heart is so heavy! Cannot we do anything to save him?"
This last question was addressed to the young chief, who had been a serious listener to all that Jamie had just said, for the Indians take dreams very seriously, and treat them as messages from the Manitou.
"The Grey Badger is a great hunter, and his rifle has often left its mark upon the Algonquins, as well as the bear and the panther. Red men no kill him quickly. He is too great a prize. They will keep him till the new moon, and then kill him," replied the Indian.
"When is the new moon?" asked Red Feather hastily.
"Two days!"
"And when will our friends arrive?"