After one or two ludicrous attempts at an imitation, War–Eagle shook his head, saying, “It is not good—may his Lenapé friend call him ‘Netis?’”[16]
As soon as Reginald was informed of what had passed, and of the meaning of his new name, he accepted it with pleasure, and Wingenund repeated it again and again as our hero bid him farewell.
War–Eagle insisted upon accompanying him, and leading Nekimi through the forest, until they reached the broad wheel track which passed Colonel Brandon’s house, and thence led through other clearings to the village of Marietta. As they went along, Reginald desired Baptiste in a whisper to talk with the chief, and endeavour to draw from him what article of dress, ornament or use, he would most value, as he was anxious to make his Indian brother a present; and the guide, by skilfully manœuvring his conversation, soon learnt that War–Eagle had, on this last excursion, lost his rifle, and that he was also short of ammunition. They now emerged from the forest upon the great road, if it might be so called, leading to Marietta; and the Indian putting the halter of Nekimi into Reginald’s hand, said that he would return to his camp. Our hero, taking him by the hand, said, “Netis wishes to see his brother at this spot to–morrow at noon.”
“War–Eagle will come,” was the brief reply; and shaking both the white men cordially by the hand, he turned and disappeared among the trees.
Reginald and the guide were within a few miles of Colonel Brandon’s house; but they could not proceed very fast, owing to the evident reluctance shown by Nekimi to follow his new master; he neighed, snorted, jumped, and played all manner of pranks in his endeavour to get loose; but this War–Eagle had foreseen, and the tough halter of undressed hide was well enough secured to defy all his efforts at escape.
“This has been a strange day of adventures, Baptiste,” said Reginald; “it has been to me one of the pleasantest of my life!”
“Why, Master Reginald, it has been a day of events, such as they are; you have been twice at the outside edge of t’other world, with water and cold iron.”
“Oh, there was not much harm in the water,” said Reginald, laughing; “had it not been for the knock which one of the horses gave me on the head; but that villainous attempt of the Huron makes me shudder;—to offer a man food, and stab him while he is taking it! I thought such a thing was unknown in Indian history.”
“It is almost,” said the guide. “But a Huron—and a Dahcotah!” added he, bitterly—“would murder a brother to gratify revenge.”
“But I had never injured him, Baptiste.”