"No can repay. Armstrong name never can forget. You see. To-night we go away. Bob wait to show way home. Blue Jacket him not able go far. Much sorry!" he said, as he limped about the lodge to try his poor limb.
But Sandy gripped the Shawanee's hand, while his boyish face fairly beamed with the affection he felt toward the gallant young savage.
CHAPTER XXII
THE ESCAPE
"When can we go, Blue Jacket?" asked the boy, with his usual impatience.
"No can get away yet some time. Sandy look out," came the reply.
"Well, I see what you mean," admitted the prisoner, reluctantly. "There does seem to be considerable of a stir around. Everybody is moving about. Even the dogs seem to be prowling around sniffing at things."
"Ugh! much stir. Talk heap. French trader try to palaver with chiefs. Make think English bad men. Steal Indian country, kill squaws, papooses, all. Ugh!" and, from the way Blue Jacket said this, it was evident that he feared the influence of the smooth-voiced Jacques Larue would undo all the good his harangue had accomplished.
Not that his people would think of putting Sandy to the stake. That bugbear had been effectually squelched after he had told how kind the two Armstrong boys had shown themselves to him. But they might refuse to let the prisoner go free, demanding that he be forced to join the tribe. The lodge was still to be a prison, for the squaw had betaken herself off, and Blue Jacket had said he would not be allowed to stay with his white brother.