“Wingenund hears men and horses,” was the short reply.
Baptiste strained his practised ears to the utmost, as did Reginald, without success. Even War–Eagle seemed for a moment unable to catch the sound. He then whispered to Reginald, “Wingenund speaks truth, there are men—not a few.”
Several minutes elapsed before our hero and the guide could distinguish the tramp of horses and the voices of men speaking angrily.
Our hero and his party being effectually screened from view by the dense laurel[20] thicket, could listen unobserved to the conversation of those who were approaching; and the following expressions delivered in a loud and authoritative tone, at once attracted and absorbed their attention: “It is impossible that the fellow should escape, we have scouts out in every direction. There can be no doubt that the camp which we have just found in the woods is the one where he passed the night with other red–skins, for the embers are still warm. Dickenson and Brown are gone south towards Marietta; Henderson and his party are tracking the prairies to the north: it is impossible he should long escape; and young Hervey thinks he should know him anywhere!”
While the person who appeared to be the leader of the unseen party was thus speaking, War–Eagle whispered a few sentences to Wingenund, to which the intelligent youth only replied by a look; the chief then conversed apart, in a low earnest voice, with the guide, who ended by grasping his hand, and saying, in the Delaware tongue, “Grande–Hâche will do it at the risk of his life.”
The chief appeared satisfied, and rising with calm dignity, he tightened the belt at his waist, to which he hung his newly acquired knife and ammunition; and throwing his rifle into the hollow of his left arm, he said to Reginald, “War–Eagle must leave his brother Netis; Grande–Hâche will tell him all; before two moons have passed, Netis will come to hunt the bison with his brother; and he shall smoke with the braves of the Lenapé.”
“He will,” replied Reginald, warmly pressing his hand, and at the same time passing the cornelian ring upon one of the fingers of the chief. “If the Great Spirit gives him life, he will come and hunt, and smoke with his Lenapé brother.”
The chief, now turning to Lucy, drew from his head the eagle feather which was passed through his hair, and which was quaintly stained, and ornamented with porcupine quills: offering it gracefully to her, he said, in a voice of musical gentleness, “War–Eagle wishes happiness to the ‘pale flower of Mooshanne;’ many braves have tried to pluck this feather from his head; no Dahcotah nor Pawnee has touched it and lived! The Sister of Netis may fasten it in her hair—let none but a brave warrior raise his eyes to it there.”
